Showing posts with label Jimeoin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jimeoin. Show all posts

Saturday, 26 July 2014

Reviews Archive: September 2001 - August 2002

Edinburgh Fringe 2002
 
NewsRevue 2002, C, Edinburgh

THE format of a gang of comics performing satiric sketches and songs accompanied by a pianist is as old as the hills.

So it was suprising to see the extent to which this year's cast - cherry-picked from the long-running show at London's Canal Cafe Theatre - made it fresh.

From the Queen Mother's death to fatal rail crashes to Osama bin Laden, nothing was out of bounds. Indeed, the sickest material proved the most successful at getting laughs.

Therein lies the rub for a live revue. In terms of taste, the writers and performers have to push the envelope to create a sense of excitement, while hoping not to upset their audience.

It worked a treat. The vicious attack on film star Kate Winslet was well received, as were cruel jibes at members of the Royal Family (dead and alive) and Paul McCartney, his wife and clan.

The show - starring Bea Holland, Iain Davie, Dan Fox and Samantha Sanns - was slickly directed by Odette Abbot, with Chad Le Long as musical director and Emma Taylor as producer.

All of them should feel pleased with their work.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson



Ich Bin Produkt, CO2, Edinburgh

IRISHMAN James Goldsbury is not a fully-formed comedian.

His stand-up routines fell painfully between two chairs: neither observationally accurate enough to strike a chord of recognition with his audience, nor sufficiently surreal to get away with it.

Coupled with this gaffe, his performance skills were weak and he lacked the quality of material to sustain an hour of comedy.

You cannot get away with shamefully-poor routines about G-strings or why women cannot use mobile phones. His women's voices were hopeless and the conversations he enacted utterly lacking in credibility.

In mitigation, Goldsbury was playing in front of an audience of seven people at an appalling venue - a white-washed cellar bar with no atmosphere.

He would have been better advised to share a Fringe show with three others at a decent venue, so he could have filtered down his material to the best 15 minutes and really worked it.

As Goldsbury rambled on, failing even to put down a heckler, you ended up feeling sorry for him.

But the shambolic finale, in which he panicked his way through 50 bleary impressions, deserves every criticism.

STAR RATING (out of five): *
Chris Wilson



Lucy Porter, Gilded Balloon, Edinburgh

SHE may be small but Lucy Porter certainly has great charm and presence on stage.

Her smiling face warmed the room and she wasted no time in flirting outrageously with the audience.

She kicked off with some good gags in routines about getting drunk in Edinburgh, her school gym teacher and gymnastics displays.

The problem was there was a somewhat 1980s feel to her act. The jokes were fresh but the the subject matter was not. It was competent stand-up but not very exciting or adventurous.

The same could be said of the first of her characters - a Sloaney boutique owner. Unfortunately, the accent was extremely similar to her normal voice, while the quality of material dipped.

The second character - President BushÕs spirituality adviser - was better formed, more original and far funnier. But the voice-overs that accompanied both characters were weakly scripted.

All the same, it was an enjoyable performance by Porter. She is a very sound club act with much going for her.

However, she needs to stretch herself more as a writer and performer to produce comedy that is distinctive and exhilarating.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***
Chris Wilson



Brian Damage and Krysstal Go Pear Shaped at Midnight, Holyrood Tavern, Edinburgh

THIS must be the longest comedy show at the Fringe this year and possibly the best value.

At three hours with 15 different acts, it felt like a stand-up marathon with all the highs and lows of a long distance run.

Brian Damage was an excellent compere. He has his grumpy persona down to a tee and knows his tight musical set backwards.

His wife Vicky plays his intellectually-challenged sidekick Krysstal and together they are like a good old music hall double-act - as daft and charming as they are funny and the perfect cement for a line-up of acts ranging from the highly-professional to the unashamedly amateurish.

It was wild.

The highlights included Phil Zimmerman's pigeon hate routine - an inspired piece of physical comedy that has enormous potential; young comedian Laurie Crowther's punchy and promising performance, and David Jackson's sickly surreal take on life.

The evening had started with a classical music performance by three-piece string outfit, Pluck - a fact easily forgetten later when Lloydy the Illegal Street Trader was chucking around a kidney.

Madly wonderful!

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson



Gavin and Gavin - Full English Breakfast, Pleasance, Edinburgh

IT is unusual to encounter a comedy double-act who appear totally out of place on stage.

But the Gavin sisters may well be the exception that proves the rule.

Their material was, to put it kindly, unoriginal: verbatim chunks of Ali G, hammy rasta accents, nattering northern and Irish women - just about every cliche in the book.

The vast majority of the audience watched the show unravel in stunned silence. It was a truly abysmal performance that did them no credit.

It was certainly true the Gavin girls were not helped by their venue, the Pleasance Cellar. There was no staging or cantilevered seating with the result that most of the audience could not clearly see the performers for much of the show.

But that does not excuse the Gavins' appalling attempts at doing accents, the extreme weakness of their material and the unforgivable 'Is it because I is black?' Ali G rip-off.

By the time half an hour of performance had passed, members of the audience were stealthily gathering their belongings, evidently longing to get out.

You couldn't blame them. STAR RATING (out of five): *
Chris Wilson



Madame Galina - Ballet Star Galactica , Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh

MADAME GALINA is sensational.

From the second she stepped on stage, the overweight and exiled Russian prima ballerina - also known as character comedian Yestyn Evans - had total mastery of the room.

She/he used the ruse that Arts Council inspectors were on their way - and the crowd needed to be rapidly trained up as a 'ballet audience'.

Monitors were appointed, a dancing partner auditioned and suitable plaudits rehearsed amid a heady blast of sexual innuendo and school-ma'mish discipline. It was brilliantly written and fantastically funny.

It was hard to believe that a show of this high calibre was playing to a room that was only one third full. It deserved to be selling out every night of the week.

As a piece of comedy acting, the role was beautifully underplayed, skilfully reined back.

But what made it special was that Evans was not just an overweight comic larking around in a tutu and tights. He is a trained ballet dancer, and despite his bulk, and can pirouette for Britain.

The result was a show that wasn't over until the fat lady danced. . .

STAR RATING (out of five): *****
Chris Wilson



McCloud and Black, Pleasance, Edinburgh

FEMALE double-act McCloud and Black spent their entire show playing two posh scrubbers who worked in an office.

From the outset, it was clearly heavily influenced by Absolutely Fabulous's Edina and Patsy, with incessant bitchy talk and drunken and sluttish behaviour.

Unfortunately, McCloud and Black lacked the great performance skills of Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley, and their script was lamentable compared with any AbFab episode.

They just about made the characters work, but there was a dearth of good punchlines and witty put-downs.

The highlight of the show was the films they had made featuring disgraceful episodes: one of them walking around town with her bum showing; a James Bond-style punch-up between the two of them, and one woman pushing the other around the streets on a swivel chair.

But these interludes didn't make up for the lack of a cogent plot.

Where should they take it from here? They need to have a hard think about whether to continue with these characters.

If they decide to, McCloud and Black will have to work much harder on their writing to give this legs.

STAR RATING (out of five): **
Chris Wilson


Rory Bremner, Assembly, Edinburgh


IT took only a single glance at the audience to see how mainstream Rory Bremner has become: elderly couples in their Sunday best sat beside the middle-aged with only a sprinkling of younger generations.

Indeed, a besuited Bremner broke the ice with an old gag before rolling out his original material.

But from there on in, there was wonderful political comedy from the master of mimicry.

Bremner's impression of Tony Blair was as remarkable as his take on Labour's failings - in an effective attack on the Government's record.

The audience may not entirely have agreed with him, or even understood all the gags, but the speed and verve of Bremner's performance carried the night.

In some ways, however, he was too ambitious, rattling through what seemed like scores of impressions and occasionally missing the mark.

His Iain Duncan Smith impression was not quite right, having the tone of the Conservative leader's voice but missing its edge. Bremner's Simon Bates voice lacked bass and his Graham Norton was not sufficiently camp.

All the same, it was a very funny and enjoyable start to his Edinburgh run.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson



The Funjabis 'Lovin A Sorna Gora' (Lovin' A Nice White Boy), Club West @ Crowne Plaza, Edinburgh

IF you went to this show expecting a crib of Goodness Gracious Me, you were in for a big surprise.

The Funjabis had a very different take on Asian culture - less caustic than their better-known rivals but, nonetheless, very enjoyable.

The show was a playlet/pantomime - a satirical Bollywood love story which really did not take itself terribly seriously.

This was both its strength and weakness. The audience clearly felt at ease with the production, forgiving a creeping amateurish that should not have been there.

It was a well-rounded affair - with spirited dancing and singing, some amusing sketches and highly-commendable all-round performances by Mamta Anand, Sody Singh Kahlon and David Capstick.

The plot - an Asian girl wants an arranged marriage but then falls for a rich white toff - was more fun than funny and, at times, good lines were few and far between. But the show had an uplifting quality that is surprisingly unusual in comedy.

You left feeling a little bit happier, having spent a pleasant hour losing yourself in a comedic fairytale.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***
Chris Wilson



Francesca Martinez - I'mperfect, Pleasance, Edinburgh

JUST in case you didn't know, Francesca Martinez has celebral palsy - around which she bases much of her comedy.

This is an observation rather than a criticism because she has proved herself a very talented performer who's turned her condition into a comedy goldmine.

Martinez was enormously charismatic on stage - drawing the audience into her secret world of humiliation at the doctor's, on a first-date at an Italian restaurant or being hassled by a shop security guard.

As so often in comedy, the real stories shone out while the nonsense fell a little flat.

But the real problem with the show was its structure. Martinez drifted from one piece of material to another without logical progression.

A good director might have brought more order to the production, enhancing the impact of what was excellent comedy with an important message - that we are all different, all special.

You sensed there was more beneath the surface than came out. In passing, she mentioned God numerous times but performed no material on how she felt about Him.

She was determined to venture into territory about British arms sales to India and Pakistan but failed to find a decent punchline.

Nonetheless, the show had much to commend it.

The episodes from her past - beautiful played out with the help of fellow comedian Markus Birdman - lifted the performance.

From Francesca in a Wonderbra to her occasional descent into sick humour, the show was full of pleasant surprises.

And the water pistol gag and the grand finale, in which she cut an audience member's hair very badly, were absolutely hilarious.

As for the perfection question, I can happily accept Francesca Martinez is perfect - but her comedy still has a little way to go.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson



Ricky Grover, Gilded Balloon, Edinburgh

IN his first hour-long Edinburgh show, the larger-than-life Grover strides on in his boxing gear with his vintage stand-up set of 20 minutes (admittedly, 18 minutes longer than an Audley Harrison bout).

This is promptly followed by Buller ("I'm nice - OH, YE, I'M NICE BUT DON'T UPSET ME!").

Ricky previously showcased Buller on The 11 O'Clock Show when he appeared in a prison cell.

This time he's on the loose with a live audience - and you are not safe at the back (who said only the front row gets picked on in comedy clubs?).

Finally, to fill the hour, Ricky appears as himself and explains the background to the show and his life, including his first job (a jewellers!), his family and his therapy.

His closing medley is how his life (and underpants) have changed over 25 years.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***and a half
Peter Merrett



Oram and Meeten, Pleasance, Edinburgh

STEVE ORAM and Tom Meeten are undoubtedly a talented duo.

They have done some great stuff in the past and there was a sense of expectation for this show.

But it proved a big disappointment. Certainly there were laughs to be had, but they popped up all too infrequently in a show that was held back by mediocre material.

This was a shame, because the performances were good.

The show got off to as bloated start, with an audience interaction section followed by a visual joke about scaring a baby in a cot which was initially very funny, but went on for too long.

It was returned to later in a manner that smacked of padding in a show lasting 50 minutes.

On the plus side, Tom Meeten, who at times in the past had seemed overshadowed by his partner, has become much funnier, and his depiction of a giggling simpleton village idiot-like character was brilliant.

Another potential gem in the show was thrown away, when a tall gangly mystery guest performer came on to do silly things in even sillier costumes.

Steve would then come on and tell the guy to leave, as if that was where the laugh lay.

But it was too false, and the laughs would surely have flowed if the gooning and ganglings had been authorised.

The main theme was the absurdity of mundane things.

There was a slide slow about Steve and Tom working together in a supermarket.

What we actually see are shots of them in swimming trunks, nowhere near any supermarket. Basically a funny idea, but it somehow lacked inspiration.

Possibly the funniest part of the show was Steve's bizarre Dingo song in which an unwilling and incompetent Meeten is followed around the room and pressed up against the walls and pillars.

But the sketch about three Scandinavians watching a chicken lay an egg was noweher near as funny as it sounds, its highlight being Meeten's sudden startling resemblance to Michael Palin.

Well, perhaps that is a good omen.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***
Comedy Spy



Omid Djalili, Pleasance, Edinburgh

OMID DJALILI has been one of the hottest tickets at this year's Fringe, which is quite an achievement for a show largely focussed on addressing the status quo after September 11.

Djalili, the only Iranian comic in town, is a man with a mission - using humour to fire creative bullets at the ingrained perceptions which lead to hatred and conflict.

He makes fun of President Bush and Tony Blair and Yasser Arafat and Ariel Sharon.

And he ridicules the BBC for the manner in which they wheel out the same unrepresentative nutter each time they claim to be presenting the Islamic view.

Well, let's hear from the Ku Klux Klan to redress the balance, he implores, to storms of laughter.

The laughter level, however, never quite builds into the expected all-englufing wave tonight.

But it is a measure of Djalili's skill as a performer, that, even on an off night, he still delivers a highly enjoyable show.

At one point, in keeping with a bad day at the office, the microphone conks out, but Djalili turns this to his advantage by launching into a Spandau Ballet song/Iranian remix.

He begins the evening speaking in an Iranian accent, then drops the pretence and goes into middle class English, revealing, hilariously, that he got into stand-up after the buzz of realising he was the second funniest person in the office.

Behind Keith in Accounts. Whatever happened to Keith? We are not told.

Never mind, there are Godzilla impressions, though not nearly enough of them, the usual range of silly faces and voices, and when a joke falls flat, or fails to get the laughter it deserves - "this is hilarious, you're just a shit audience" - it's the cue for the imfamous Djalili belly dancing.

There are some earnest moments, but just when you think Djalili is about to get too serious, he throws in a pefectly timed funny-bomb.

The show features a false ending with our man fading into the shadows.

But his place in the spotlight is assured.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Comedy Spy



Daily Telegraph Open Mic Award Final, Pleasance, Edinburgh

AN afternoon start for the thrusting wannabes - presumably to keep them all sober. But it didn't stop compere Chris Addison biting the hand that feeds him, with a few remarks about the sponsor. With the crowd warmed up, Addison reeled on the first act for the allotted eight minutes.


Ria Lina claims to be from "Bucking-ham-shire", before admitting her American accent and dark skin colour give her away. She breaks into song using her banjo to reveal her father is German and he met her mum through a catalogue.  Her material to music is excellent and she would have been in the judges' mind come the finish.

Assembled from the comedy world to make the big decision were Dave Gorman, Simon Day and Mackenzie Crook, plus Sarah Sands, The Daily Telegraph's small but perfectly-formed Deputy Editor.

Next on, James Bench-Capon, a posh bloke with a name that would not be out of place in the Telegraph newsroom. He came dressed in immaculate suit and tie, looking a prime candidate for a job on the Torygraph's comment desk. His assorted one liners included stuff on feng-shui.

Third up, Paul Kerensa, is ginger and 24. Or is it auburn?
Also suited and booted, I sit in a packed audience at the Pleasance with shorts on and wondering if I read the invitation wrong. Kerensa was good at maths and produced flip charts. I can't help thinking this must have impressed Dave Gorman.

Next on Stan Stanley with very sharp observations on a suggestion for a medieval cook show and the way Michael Buerk links to the weather on the BBC News - all of it delivered with a cutting style. He didn't bother wearing a suit.

Final act of the first five was Matthew Reed who started with a long visual gag on a quiet Christmas then finished with a song about nicotine.

Sixth on was Mark Watson, a young Bristolian wearing a T-shirt and khaki trousers who dissects sod's law and army recruit adverts. Crucially, he had judge Dave Gorman in stitches.

Laid-back, Gary Delaney appears next with a cracking line about Winnie the Pooh. He strolls along effortlessly with one liners on Amnesty International, penguins, ladies in waiting and an Israeli flatmate.

Next is the lovely Hils Barker, who like Delaney has already featured in the BBC new act competition final. Her observations are on letters to the Daily Mail and how neutral Switzerland is, before she pulls out her guitar and demonstrates how British acts have hijacked latino music.

Steve Hall's material touches upon the fact that he is a charity shop gypsy (no argument from me). He is a Steve Coogan-lookalike and even sound-a-like but he has a tame ending to his set.

Finally, Katie Walsh with ponytail and glasses looks like a teacher and, maybe, if her resume said she was a teacher or indeed winner of a new act competition, I'd check it out as she describes how lies on CVs are only exaggerations.

A tough choice for the judges, as I could only narrow it down to four, and even changed my mind on the order of those before Sarah Sands arrived on stage to announce the result.

A special commendation to Stan Stanley, but the overall winner  was Mark Watson. Accepting the award and cheque for £2,000 Watson modestly commented: "I thought two or three had trumped me today."

Dave Gorman remarked afterwards: "He's the only one who didn't remind me of anyone else."

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
The Gag Police



Phil Nichol, The Things I Like I Lick, Pleasance, Edinburgh

PHIL NICHOL is a picture of composure as he strolls onstage, beaming and basking in the audience's rapturous reception.

He then delivers a few conventionally-structured jokes which elicit a mixture of groans and titters.

But wait. This is all designed to lull the crowd into a false sense of security. They are about to be bombarded with a whirlwind of inspired angst-ridden lunacy, during which anyone present might at any moment be licked.

This happens to a very shiny-topped bald headed man in the front row - several times actually - as Nicol develops an alarming taste for his bonce.

Other victims simply get hugged or kissed or have silly newspaper hats placed on their heads by the sweat-soaked spittle sprayer from Canada.

Nicol's level of intensity is astonishing and you wonder if he can possibly keep it up over an hour. But he does.

He is a master at communicating truth about himself by pulling the audience - sometimes literally - into his world, and the story about being arrested after an altercation with a moronic Virgin Trains ticket inspector is funny because you can see it happening. Yes, this guy really knows how to lose the plot.

The title of the show came about out of a conversation with a friend, who told him in a dark moment of despair, that he should make a list of all the things he liked.

Nicol's depression was born of a disastrous year of bad luck, which, in addition to being arrested, saw his long-term girlfriend dump him, the loss of his savings, a random attack by a Tube lunatic who broke his nose and a freak accident that tore a muscle in his testicles. All of which left him unable to perform in the bedroom or on the stage.

But in a perfect example of the Buddhist principle of turning poison into medicine, Nicol channels all the frustration of that time into his performance.

In fact, his gloom, doom and misery about the pain of it all comes close to being a good and serious rock song, Radiohead-style.

He just needs to make it slightly less funny. The audience loved it.

Each show concludes with a surprise devised by a friend of Nicol who appears on stage.

On the night of this review, it features Nicol in an Elvis outfit and falls flat in spectacular style.

But normal service is resumed with a whirlwind rendition of a song about all the things he likes to lick.

Baldies beware!

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Comedy Spy



Goodbye Seattle Coffee Company - Julian Fox, Pleasance Attic, Edinburgh

EVERY year at the Fringe, I hope and pray for brilliant new comedy talent that comes straight out of left field.

And in former Royal Shakespeare Company doorman Julian Fox, this year my prayers have been answered.

This man is a little comic genius - obsessed with inspecting coffee houses, drawing Duran Duran's Simon Le Bon and keeping his own sad journal.

In this wondrous show, Fox hits on attributes that are very British - anal retentiveness coupled with a willingness to accept your lousy job.

Taking pride in something you have nicked, building afresh out of someone else's work.

His style was nervous/camp/articulate - somewhat like the stand-up comedian Paul Foot's, only far more so.

Fox's songs epitomised the angst of a London-living, flat-sharing, rent-paying generation - people seeking solace in an affordable luxury such as the products of the late, lamented Seattle Coffee Company (now part of Starbucks).

It was an extraordinary show which saw the crowd applauding long after it would have left most other shows.

Superb and sublime.

STAR RATING (out of five): *****
Chris Wilson



Scott Capurro, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh 

WHEN you have shocked and shocked, where is there left to go?

This question sprang to mind after seeing San Franciscan comedian Scott Capurro failing to fill a smallish venue - despite his notoriety and undoubtedly enormous comedy skills.

During the show, you found yourself liking and pitying him in equal measure.

His performance was essentially one long (and hilarious) bitch about his sad life as a gay sex hunter and man who would happily say anything to make a passing impression.

Yes, he returned to Holocaust humour, although only tentatively this year.

And Capurro ran through a gumut of gay sexual practices - from rimming to fisting.

He even found a young gay man in the audience, accompanied by his mother, and embarrassed both of them by climbing on top of the lad to demonstrate 'tea-bagging'.

Admittedly, it was extremely funny to watch.

Capurro is laid-back in his style but very quick in wit, intelligent and super-cynical.

His problem now, perhaps, is that there is no control switch. He'll say anything to shock, whether it is funny or not.

This was fine when he was trying to make his name as a young comic, but now he is a 39-year-old, no one is particularly bothered any more, and he could be applying his comedy talents far more effectively.

Capurro is a gay Bill Hicks. The attributes that have guided his comedy could also destroy him.

Gratuitous sex is apparently Capurro's Achilles Heel.

After describing some of the unusual sexual acts he performs with strangers, he accused a married man of only attending the show to try to have sex with him.

You got the impression, however, that even Capurro himself was tired of his act.

He is a five-star comedian, currently firing on three cylinders.

Capurro is a great talent but desperately needs to reinvent himself to win back the attention of the public.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson



Thoughts of a Noble Mind - Simon Munnery, The Stand, Edinburgh

BURIED in the small print of Simon Munnery's highly-entertaining show is a great new idea for all struggling ventriloquists: come on stage with a metal bucket over your head.

And here's another thought: If people persecute you for wearing a bucket, on stage or off, don't get annoyed, don't shout, you'll only deafen yourself.

This is just a droplet from a torrent of good jokes that Munnery delivers to great effect in his deadpan style.

The show was cleverly structured with a mad visual act by Andrew Bailey in the middle, which nonetheless went on a tad too long, before Munnery returned with a different coloured bucket on his head.

There was a bizarre musical build-up during which expectaions were stoked by a countdown of the number of minutes till showtime.

Then, with great drama, Munnery appears, or fails to, dressed in a medieval orange outfit, with bucket on head, and a ball and chain in hand.

You might think the novelty of such a visual joke would quickly wear off, but the quality of Munnery's material while inside the bucket, and the authority of his delivery extracts maximum mileage from it.

However, the bucket, by virtue of its eventual removal, is really just a device to allow Munnery to be himself and deliver some clever thoughts on the twisted ways of the world.

These appear in lists, and diagrams and songs and self-deprecating one-liners.

He gives us his thought-provoking and very funny wisdom on subjects like God and money and sex.

For instance, rules for making love to a woman - don't, why stoke the volcano of grief?

Also, he conclusively proves, by way of a very funny joke, that the chicken came before the egg.

He offers a great tip for smokers trying to quit. Take up the harmonica. It engages the hands and mouth and simply produces notes instead of cancer.

Then with typically-perfect timing, he delivers the pay-off - but the harmonica is not as popular in restaurants.

The show ends with Munnery inviting the audience to don buckets and join him outside for a singalong in the poetically pouring rain. Great fun.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Comedy Spy



Jimeoin, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh

JIMEOIN is the ultimate feel-good comedian.

The brilliant Irishman - who moved to Australia and became one of its biggest comedy names - is a fantastic observational physical comic.

He wins huge laughs out of body language and human psychology: material ranging from which days of the week girls can and cannot tart themselves up to how farmers feel about the colour of their tractors.

But he never humiliates the people in his audience. If he picks up a handbag from someone in the crowd, he does not go prying inside like Graham Norton would.

Instead he walks around with it, finding humour and enjoyment in carrying something strange and new.

The large audience of Australian, British, American and many other nationalities was united in laughter.

It was a shame that at times background noise from an adjacent theatre intruded upon the performance.

But that took nothing away from Jimeoin's comedy greatness.

STAR RATING (out of five): *****
Chris Wilson



Daniel Kitson - Something, Pleasance, Edinburgh

DANIEL KITSON is brilliant at making his life sound funny.

The 25-year-old - who looks a bit like a 50-year-old woman - had his audience in gales of laughters with his stories of joining a pro-cannabis march (because it seemed the quickest way to get home), arguing with a bus driver who he'd called a prick, and almost getting a pasting at the hands of a drunken squaddie.

His stage persona is perfect.

And although he says he lacks social confidence, Kitson is supremely confident when performing - even hugging a man in the front row who was upset for reasons which were unclear.

Kitson is enormously talented and idiosyncratic in his outlook.

He divides the people he does not like into "knobs" or "cunts" - they have to be one or the other.

He claims to believe in there being only one possible soulmate for him, who he reckons is probably staying at home to avoid "the cunts".

If Kitson really believes this bollocks, it is very sad. Good relationships are built on partners respecting their differences as well as enjoying their common interests.

If he is looking for a mirror image of himself in a lover, he will have to marry a female clone of himself - as he won't find it in a natural woman.

Something to think about.

STAR RATING (out of five): Four-and-a-half
Chris Wilson



Hal, Amused Moose Comedy at Smirnoff Underbelly, Edinburgh

HAL CRUTTENDEN is a gifted performer.

His training as an actor was evident in the effective way he delivered his routines to the audience.

And his material was high quality and as tight as a drum - with hardly a redundant syllable or comma.

I have seen Hal perform on many occasions and love it when he takes his audience on flights of fancy about the tooth fairy, scary monsters, Army ads or a host of other subjects.

This was just such a night.

The crowd were up for it and roared their way through his routines, as Cruttenden switched between camp and macho voices, politics and the bathroom, genially bantering with them along the way.

Hal is still growing in stature as a stand-up - and has great potential to make it as a big comedy star.

STAR RATING (out of five): Four-and-a-half
Chris Wilson



Billy Watson, Holyrood Tavern, Edinburgh

IT is good to see Scottish comics taking shows to the Fringe - not intimidated by the high standard of many of the international acts.

And local lad Billy Watson certainly put his heart and soul into his show, working the small audience extremely well.

He has excellent confidence and stage presence, but his material needs some attention.

If you tackle such well-worn subjects as the War on Terrorism or internet pornography, you have to find something fresh and funny to say about them.

Watson would benefit from a few months on the London circuit - honing his material and learning where to draw the line.

All the same, I admired his gung-ho dedication to his craft, particularly the story of how he was on stage when he admitted marital infidelity for the first time - and his wife was in the audience.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***
Chris Wilson



Rob Deering - The Facts, Pleasance, Edinburgh

IT is not long since Rob Deering was doing open spots on the London comedy circuit. Yet he has been moving like lightning up the ranks of the stand-up world.

His debut Edinburgh Fringe show is a remarkable achievement for a relatively-new performer.

Deering harnesses his amiable personality, ready supply of gags and undoubted musical and physical comedy skills to deliver a well-honed and highly enjoyable performance.

The show is loosely autobiographical - taking in Deering's childhood quiz show appearances, manifold hair styles and obsession with James Bond theme tunes (which makes an excellent finale).

The material is good but the pace - at preview, at least - a little sluggish at times.

But have no doubt, this is a show well worth seeing and a performer with oodles of potential to produce great comedy.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****
Chris Wilson

Reviews Archive: April 1998 - February 1999


August 1998 - February 1999
Mutt's Nuts, The Hand and Racquet, Whitcomb Street, W1

THE upstairs room at this West End pub is a decent size, with a bar, low lighting and country beams everywhere.

MC Mark Felgate hit the right note of friendliness, energy and pace; he warmed up the audience without hogging 'act' time.

First-on David Caruana was affable and is definitely becoming more of a performer than a bloke telling stories.

Eve Guthrie looked very new and young and lacked presentation skills. But she had some good material and a quiet confidence about her.

Aussie Tony Bailey had some excellent and intelligent gags but needs more oomph. He has to find his comedy legs after taking a year to get to England. (If the plane had gone any slower, it'd have fallen out of the sky).

Then we were treated to Phil Davey, loudly confident with some interesting thoughts on sleep. He's a top act and put a buzz into the room.

The next two acts, Juliet Cowan and Belinda Merriman, both looked great, had presence and tried to perform would-be shocking material. But it was a bit coy: adolescent girls shrieking on the bus stuff.

Finally, headliner Ian Stone came hotfoot from the Comedy Store, just round the corner. His humour was Jewish but not exclusively so. He was very bright and relaxed.

Overall, a splendid night for this new club.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

Georgina Gush / February 1999


Mickey Flanagan, Buccaneers, London W1

IT was a good night with the audience outnumbering the acts - something that hasn't happened in a long time.

And Mickey Flanagan - who looks like such a nice boy - did a hysterical routine on the East End, world travellers and kinky sex.

I really shouldn't approve but he's extraordinarily funny. It's hard to see how someone retains their charm while delving in gross areas, but he does. If he dropped the f-word, we could be talking TV.

The other acts were also good. Paul Sinha put in a polished few minutes, which would be even better if he moved away from punning; Shappi Khorsandi was infectiously funny and smiley; and with a bit move focus on ordering his act David Keay would be brilliant.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

Georgina Gush / February 1999


Mitch Benn, Buccaneer Comedy, London W1

MITCH BENN had the audience falling about with his tried and trusted song "Crap Shag" and an excellent new song about an audience's fear of the musical comic.

But for someone who can assemble such killer lyrics, his patter between numbers and joke-telling is curiously defensive - as though he knows he is weak without accompaniment.

His playing and songwriting is so strong, however, it's easy to glide over these moments.

Benn's well-deserved encore - Perfect Day as sung on the BBC promo by 40 voices - was amazing. On its own it should silence any carping critics of musical comedy.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Georgina Gush / February 1999


The Red Rose Comedy Club, Finsbury Park, London N7

SATURDAY night at the Red Rose - one of London's most famous comedy venues, now back under the stewardship of its progenitor Ivor Dembina.

Dembina is a curious character: a little bespectacled man who seems to carry the woes of the world on his shoulders.

But he knows how to run a great club.

In the few months since his return, the large room behind the Labour club in Finsbury Park has cackled with comedy. Now his audience is reaching its "critical mass" of 120ish, the Red Rose is becoming a top gig once again.

As a compere, Dembina has the most extraordinary style. Most professional MCs exude confidence and look absolutely bullet proof.

Dembo's approach is to carry his vulnerability and self-doubt on stage with him, allowing him to question the audience without posing a threat to them. The comedy then stems from his quick wit in turning their answers into jokes.

He used a girl's boast that she'd just spent £200 on buying bras to great effect. ("50 quid a bra, 25 a tit!").

That led to a whole string of quips that warmed up the audience very nicely.

First on, Andy Parsons was a crowd pleaser, although not to my taste. He shouts and swears too much and that detracted from his performance; his material (cereal packet instructions, grumpy old people etc.) was neither clever nor original; and his yobby persona didn't really ring true.

Drew Barr was far worse. He boasted a smart suit but very weak material. And with the audience, he dipped alarmingly until only a handful of people were laughing at his jaded routines.

You can't get away with feeble jokes about flying and getting drunk any longer. To be brutally honest, Barr wasn't really up to playing the Red Rose.

True pro Martin Coyote turned the evening. He has a lovely manner and some very good routines.

And headliner Simon Bligh was absolutely outstanding. I love his technique; leaving the microphone in the stand and acting out his flights of fancy around it. He picked on audience members but left them feeling good about themselves. And he was topical without being boring.

There's no doubt Bligh is a real gem of a club comic - worth the £6 admission fee on his own.

Overall it was a very good night's entertainment in an atmosphere that was unusually sexy for a comedy venue.

The Red Rose is an important club and it and Ivor Dembina deserve all the public support they can get.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

January 1999


Buccaneers Comedy, The Hope, London W1

I ARRIVED late and swelled the paying audience by 20 per cent. But I was in time for the very pleasant and funny Lucy Baylor who looked slimmer and bendier after birth than I have since the age of 14.

Mandy Muden was nearly hoisted by her own petard when her lascivious patter induced an American to strip to his boxer shorts! Her wonky tricks are always appealing.

Very confident David Kelly spread his little good material with great skill and excellent magician Danny Buckler used audience members without embarrassing or humiliating them.

After his commended performance on Channel 4, he deserves a bigger audience.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

Georgina Gush/January 1999


SUCK IT AND SEE, BAR LATINO, Islington, London N1

EVERYONE with a guitar amp, microphone stand and access to a bar seems to want to launch a comedy club these days. Stand-up isn't the new rock 'n' roll - it's the new karaoke!

And the opening night of Suck It and See was a first-rate demonstration of how NOT to do it.

First, the room - a garishly-painted nightclub - is totally unsuited to comedy.

From the soap box that passed as a stage, the acts could only see half the room. More importantly, half the punters couldn't see the comics.

On the night, some might have said that was a blessing in disguise.

Compere Simon Clayton trotted out all the old sexist and racial stereotype routines in his warm-up. He's not really an alternative comic at all.

You might as well have had Bernard Manning up there. The only difference being that Manning would have told the gags a lot better.

The first act was James Holmes, who is a camp comic with good empathy with his audience but weak material.

He came unstuck because of that at last year's Edinburgh Festival - and only just got away with it at this little venue.

Most of his routines are about celebrity deaths - and so they quickly go out of date, leaving his act looking threadbare.

Then came comedy newcomer Dougie Dunlop, a Scot with a good range of accents and some very old gags.

After that - to my amazement - there was an interval. A couple of middling acts were promised for later, but I already had the measure of Suck It and See.

It sucks!

STAR RATING (out of five): *

John Behrens/January 1999


BUCCANEER COMEDY, The Hope, London W1

SALLY HOLLOWAY gave a good start of the night's entertainment.

Her chatty style shouldn't lead you to think that her set isn't packed with fine material - because it is.

There no waffle and some good stuff in there. She can always josh an audience successfully and watching her explain - without being crude - to an idiotic American why Tony 'Donkey' Adams's name is misleading was wonderful.

Then there was a wonderful newcomer, John Moore.

He had enormous presence and affability, which, when he finds some good material, could be devastating.

Anton, the following act, doesn't seem quite right in the head. Why does he think saying 'Doggie style' 10 times over is going to bring the house down? It was very tiresome for the rest of us.

Keith Coughtree suffered from being too quiet and whimsical, but had some good ideas percolating through.

And fabulously-glam Luis Alberto headlined with some impressions (not too many, thank God) and some surprisingly sharp sociopolitical stuff, which was a breath of fresh air.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Georgina Gush/January 1999


DOWNSTAIRS AT THE KING'S HEAD, CROUCH END, LONDON N8

Despite a good warm-up, Dave Thompson and Dave Holland each had a raw deal as the audience refused to shut up.

But, as always, music soothed the savage beast with Mallory and Mr Flute on fantastic form with their rude songs and delicately sinister presentation.

The evening was crowned with an appearance by Paul Thorne, blessed with a heckler at the front whom he tagged "My Little Pony".

Thorne topped the night with his mad chicken routine, which is as good a use of five minutes and one joke as you'll ever see.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Georgina Gush/January 1999


1998 Reviews

MADDEST TURNS OF 1998 SHOW, JOE'S COMEDY MADHOUSE, Stoke Newington, London N16

THIS was undoubtedly the craziest and funniest gig I have ever attended.

Joe Wilson handpicked some of the biggest loons on the London comedy circuit and got rising star Rob Rouse to compere - to amazing effect.

I have hardly ever seen a small crowd whipped up into such a comedy frenzy. Rouse's banter with them was nothing short of inspired lunacy and his material (including send-ups of disgraced Gary Glitter and Geoff Boycott) had them splitting their sides.

And the maddest turns of the year were extraordinary. Opener Steve Day was distinctly wacky and wasn't put off by heckles. Because he's deaf.

Tony Hindle gave us a guide to Tory party politics, using his naked arse as an illustration and Chris Hawkins discussed wanking in the newsagent's.

Molly Moron made us perform a ludicrous song in a northern accent, and Joe Wilson was at his most outrageous, screeching come-backs at hecklers.

Crazy-eyed Max Leonard did his dreadful puns and was suitably embarrassed when Rouse called him back to microphone to reveal his day job: art editor of Mayfair magazine. And the legendary Jimbo spent his act silently battling with the microphone stand.

His job was made more difficult by an obese and drunken couple who claimed to have bought the pub and insisted on screaming "You're fired" at the acts.

When they really got out of hand (insulting other members of the audience), Joe Wilson sprayed them with the fire extinguisher and threw out them out of the door - to loud cheers.

Even at the Madhouse, there's never been a night quite like it.

STAR RATING (out of five): *****

Peter Guest/December 1998


Brixton Comedy Club, The Hobgoblin, London

'FANTASTIC! Alan Davies for £5!' That's what south London's collective comedy consciousness thought and the sometimes-drafty Hobgoblin was as packed as Marks & Sparks on Christmas Eve.

Charming Mark Kelly was guest MC, hitting the right note with the audience by having them sing a chorus of "He's up his own arse" at football-crowd volume.

Splendid Jojo Smith brought a Chaucerian crudity to the event. How she gets away with her wince-inducing fanny gags I do not know, but she was very funny and kept the pissed-up boys in the front row firmly in their place.

Earl Okin was as smooth as a lounge lizard and had a balming effect on the drunks with his melodic, louche and scathing songs.

The main attraction of the night however was Alan Davies. His television appearances in the BBC drama Jonathan Creek and his solo show have raised his profile enormously, and he clearly has a lot of charm.

The shaggy hair and come-to-bed eyes and his mild manner are all endearing, and his voice is a perfect imitation of Mick Jagger's nasal whine. Davies can talk rot about the backdrop, the room and the audience and still have us tittering away. And the real material he used was excellent.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

Georgina Gush/December 1998


Murphy's Unplugged Comedy Festival, Dublin

YOU might ask how this event could fail; with Dublin being one of the most popular weekend destinations and having a strong reputation for craic, storytelling and wit.

Well, it did fail because a great idea was badly executed.

There were eight venues, ranging from the Laughter Lounge (very good theatre-style place with a receptive audience) to The Auld Dubliner, which like The Banker and McDaid's, was a great pub but absolutely useless for comedy.

I also wondered why Howard Marks was billed for one of the good venues on the Saturday night. He's not a comic - just an ex-drug dealer with PR.

Talented comic Ross Noble's telling comment on the festival was: "You can't really call them gigs. I don't know what you'd call it. It's a shambles." He was spot on.

Many of the shows ran at the same time or overlapped, so you couldn't scoot around to see the lot.

The Auld Banker was cursed with a tiny raised stage adjacent to a small room where a boozy Friday night crowd were blaring at each other as if there was nothing going on.

The area in front of the stage was packed with people being served at the bar. The comics, who looked like priests at the altar rail, were inaudible above the pub racket.

At McDaid's on the Saturday night, the gig suffered less from the room than the lighting. The powerful spotlights of the night before had been usurped by a couple of strings of domestic fairy lights (after a problem with the fuse box!)

The general feeling among punters was that the festival suffered from a complete lack of good organisation and planning.

There was big money to pay Tommy Tiernan and others. But a bit of investment in space would have reaped greater rewards.

STAR RATING (out of five): *

Georgina Gush/November 1998


Jimeoin, Cochrane Theatre, London WC1

JIMEOIN - sounds like "Jim Owen" - tickled and teased his audience to euphoria.

A native of Northern Ireland, he's obviously found his hard-won position as a millionaire superstar in Australia very congenial, so it's no wonder he can spread warmth and delight.

He sound gently Irish and his carefully-constructed laidback manner testifies to his Aussie influence.

Jimeoin's delight at the sound of words is positively Beckettian and his influence on Eddie Izzard is clear - directed rambling; going off at tangents; slightly awkward acting out of imagined scenes.

Gag-free comedy - except for one brilliant Diana joke - kept the audience very happy. What a lovely bloke!

STAR RATING (out of five): *****

Georgina Gush/November 1998


You Must Be Joking!, The Sindrome, London NW10.

THE large but shabbily attractive room was only a quarter full, perhaps because of the floor which was stickier than syrup.

And the evening was marred by a particularly obnoxious heckler who yapped her way through every act and introduction.

She was like an appallingly-behaved dog. But her boyfriend seemed to revel in her dimwitted behaviour and someone from the club kept saying: "She's not a plant."

Wonderful Glaswegian comic Stu Who was amusing and joshing and had some great stories, Trevor Crook did a sterling job, and oh-so-slick Sean Meo delivered a laugh every 10 seconds.

It would be nice to see this venue succeed.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Georgina Gush/November 1998


Hobgoblin Comedy, Brixton, London

THIS feisty little club goes from strength to strength. Compere Ivor Dembina showed remarkable form with new material and good banter.

Ronnie Golden performed an end-of-the-pier sort of set, but was not overgenerous with his musical contributions - a shame because it's what he does best.

Simon Evans, caddish in shot velvet, really raised the roof with his measured sarcasm and a lot of new material.

And Simon Bligh was excellent and brimming with energy for a sleep-deprived new dad.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

Georgina Gush/November 1998


The Improv, Los Angeles

THIS is where Robin Williams and Steve Martin cut their comedy teeth. But on tonight's showing all I can do is thank God for British comics because the future would be very grim indeed if left in the hands of the churls and bigots on display at this illustrious venue.

Mind you, Bless with Ted, whose gimmick is his wonderful mane of reddish-golden curls, was an excellent compere and the evening started promisingly with his effevescent silliness building up the audience to a pitch of merry expectation. Unfortunately he was the only plum in the pudding.

Willy Barsena sailed through some Italian-American stereotyping; Chris Spencer was pleasant but unmemorable; and Steve Marmel hated and wished death on everyone, Jews and gangsta rappers included.

Alan Harvey was like John Goodman without the twinkle, and Charlie Fleischer, supposed the top act of the night, was a vile, lascivious Quasimodo.

Fleischer had hardly any material, structuring his act around abuse to those in the front row - and opening a hapless bride-to-be's wedding shower on stage!.

Most the acts mocked the audience in vicious and jeering terms. And they asked exactly the same questions of the same people, treating the men with derision and leering at their girlfriends.

Tucked away safely at the back of the room, I achieved a comedy first for me and found myself falling asleep.

STAR RATING (out of five): *

Georgina Gush/October 1998


MARY BOURKE, BUCCANEERS, THE HOPE, W1

TOO often female comics hide behind a persona - whether girlie or ghastly - but Mary has the confidence to dispense with that nonsense.

She can hold her own in a 10 to 15 minute spot. Her affable presence and the fact that you're not dealing with a half-baked character idea makes you almost forget that some of the material is a bit average: being dumped; women who won't go down; men as financial tickets; and teachers' jokes.

But funny/average is better than many newish comedians achieve.

STAR RATING (out of five): **and a half.

Georgina Gush/October 1998


THE HOBGOBLIN, BRIXTON

AFTER an extended break, it was good to see this venue up and running again. Compere Ivor Dembina was affable without being ingratiating and did a fine job of making it a friendly night.

First out of the traps was comic magacian Otiz Canelloni. I like magic and would have been grateful for a few more tricks. But there was no spark or surprise to his act. I haven't seen him for 12 years and was surprised he hasn't become more polished or acquired better comic chat over that long period.

Next came Brendon Burns - what a ranting boy he is! But attitude is no substitute for good material. Laughs were slow in coming and I'm not ashamed to contradict his supposition that it was the audience's fault.

Finally, there was a great surprise, Hoopal! - a double act of men in suits; one man pudding-faced, the other almost as narrow as an axe head. They treated us to some excellent, silly clowning - messing around with wet towels and tennis balls.

The audience roared with laughter and the night ended on a high note. Let's see more of them!

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Georgina Gush/October 1998


DAVID KEAY, BUCCANEERS COMEDY, LONDON W1

DAVID KEAY is a young Scottish comedian who's been doing well on the London circuit for the last 16 months - but on this occasion he was shit.

He incurred maximum black marks by embarrassing two women in the audience - dissecting them without kindness or wit but with a bully's confidence.

If he'd made the same comments in conversation in a pub, someone would probably have punched his lights out.

Having ripped open his shirt, played with his nipples, and treated us to a verse of 'Flower of Scotland', he offered to perform any song we liked. Can't you get this sort of thing on the Kilburn High Road (London's Irish quarter) any night of the week?

But they don't call it 'comedy', just 'sad'.

Keay didn't do a jot of proper material and his artless apology afterwards - 'I don't know what came over me - it's been a hell of a week' - didn't restore him to grace with the bored and appalled audience.

On this night, the Cream of Scotland was definitely sour - a shameful abuse of real talent.

STAR RATING (out of five): ZERO

Georgina Gush/September 1998


AL MURRAY, PUB LANDLORD - Keeper of the Pint Cosmic, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival

THIS was a vintage Pub Landlord performance by a brilliant character comedian at the peak of his powers.

The hour flew by as Murray showed just how far he's managed to take his creation. No shortage of material here; he has acres of it.

And his interaction with the audience was so spontaneous and funny even Murray was laughing at it.

I say fuck the Perrier panel!

I dread to think what the Pub Landlord would say about those purveyors of over-priced fizzy water.

We're awarding the truly magnificent Al Murray the Stand-up Comedy London Award for Best Act of the 1998 Edinburgh Comedy Festival

Well done, landlord!

STAR RATING (out of five): ****** (SIX)


April - August 1998


KEVIN HAYES, The Stand Comedy Club, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


AFFABLE Irishman Kevin Hayes has been appearing in two shows - and excelling in both.

Education met wit in Beyond The Pale (A History of Ireland) in which he achieved one of the toughest tasks a comedian can set himself: teaching an audience history while amusing and entertaining them.

It was a truly outstanding show; one of the most thoroughly-enjoyable hours I've spent in Edinburgh and a joy to attend.

His late-night straight stand-up performance, at the Stand as well, was also excellent. And I'd say not a single punter there would disagree with that assessment.

STAR RATING (out of five): *****

August 1998


IVOR DEMBINA and IAN COGNITO, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


WAS it supposed to be an honour that these big cheeses of the London comedy circuit put on a late free-entry show?

Their contrasting styles - Ivor, disingenously diffident and intellectual; Ian, ranting arsehole - made them an obvious, albeit uncomfortable, pairing.

But what they both forgot on one of the most important nights of the festival was that comedians are meant to be funny.

The midnight performance started very low key: I thought Dembina was going to compere a little and then introduce the so-called 'fierce and funny' Cognito.

But no, he gave us a runaround of British Judaism in the 1990s. Nothing wrong with that. No doubt Dominic Lawson would have enjoyed it immensely. But I suspect the Edinburgh audience had come to laugh.

Dembina also made the mistake of getting into a debate with a drunken critic who wanted to smoke. He ended up accused of fascism by the journalist and slipped from the stage with hardly a word to say in his defence.

It was a piss-poor start to the show, but worse was to come.

Cognito shattered the embarrassed silence with an unfunny rant of a performance worthy of a tube train nutter.

The tedious account of dragging himself up by his bootstraps, marital shipwreck, hollowness of fame (has he ever been famous?), great drugs he's done (where have we heard that before?), was indistinguishable from the blether of a thousand pub bores rolled into one spitting, sweating ball of bitterness.

Successful comics Nick Wilty and Stuart Lee were in the audience and didn't laugh much.

And I'm angry now I gave as much as an old button to the silent collection at the end of the show. There are plenty of street beggars more deserving of the cash than these two smug conmen.

Cognito should go back into the retirement he so richly deserves.

As for sad old Dembina, he's committing comedy suicide on the circuit by nottelling jokes.

Perhaps, old comics never die; they just go a bit senile and become an embarrassment to anyone who knows them.

STAR RATING (out of five): ZERO

-- GEORGINA GUSH / August 1998


LEE MACK, Return of the Mack, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


THE publicity for this show portrayed Mack sending up a rap star: an image followed through by a short film sequence - shown before the performance - of him donning rap gear.

But it all proved a gimmick. When Mack appeared before the tiny audience (about 30 people in a 150-capacity room), he was casually dressed and trotted out his regular routines, almost none of them involving rap.

Nonetheless, he is energetic and his material is strong, although there wasn't enough top-notch stuff to fill an hour-long show.

STAR RATING (for talent and potential): **** (out of five)

/August 1998


BOOTHBY GRAFFOE, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


THE best thing about this show was newish comic Simon Evans as a stooge in the audience. Otherwise, it came down to a couple of songs, unspontaneous rapartee and adolescent sketches.

Graffoe's material was thinly spread and his references to past glowing reviews made one wonder how on earth he has achieved his high profile.

He may be excellent over 30 minutes, but an hour-long show makes him diffuse and ill-tempered. He even resorted to dragging in dope-smoking to win a knowing cheer.

It's time for him to do something new.

STAR RATING (out of five): **

-- GEORGINA GUSH/August 1998


MIKE GUNN, Good Grief, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


GUNN was one of the acts I most wanted to see. . . but turned out the most disappointing.

His material was quite good but his performance was amazingly weak for a comedian of his experience.

Gunn seemed more camp than deadpan - like a comedic Dale Winton clad as a funeral director. And his handling of hecklers was cliched. He wasn't thinking on his feet and, as a result, was half-dying on his arse.

No wonder only 10 punters had come to see him.

STAR RATING (out of five): **

August 1998


RICH HALL, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


WOW! This show proved why the established guys hold their own against the young tyros.

It was slick, topical, political, well paced and well funny.

Some silly but genuinely amusing songs made it a sheer delight - and a good reason why Hall should give masterclasses to young comics.

The secret is in the writing and the realisation that you shouldn't expect to get by on charm alone.

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

-- GEORGINA GUSH/August 1998


THE COMEDY ZONE, The Pleasance, Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Festival


THIS was definitely one of the most over-rated shows of the festival. Four newish comics did their best to join the big boys of comedy, but looked hopelessly out of their depth.

Dan Evans seemed uncomfortable as the compere, desperately rattling out his own material rather than concentrating on interaction with the audience.

Anton did his joke (doggy style). It's high time he wrote another gag. His shambling image is effective but you can't help wondering if he's genuinely a bit of a Scouse fuckwit.

Gorden Southern's act wasn't bad. He's an assured performer and has some sharp and funny lines. But he's better seen in a small venue.

And headliner Simon Evans was enjoyable. He trotted out his familiar act with great confidence and precision and was undoubtedly the best of a mediocre bunch.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): **and a bit


SEAN LOCK, 'Hello Mums', Battersea Art Centre (Short BAC and Sides) London SW11


BLOKEY is the obvious adjective for Sean; he's not a style guru, not Oxbridge mafia (in presentation, I don't know his true credentials). Good natured geezerhood rules.

On an unfeasibly sweaty night - so hot that Harry Hill took off his baseball cap, in a blackbox auditorium where the air-conditioning must have been provided by a toxic dragon - we started with a film of various members of the Lock family dancing against a white background. Very art school, not very funny, but setting up for a cracking gag when Sean got on.

He has a good balance of meandering chat and big tags - the 50-minute format allowing him to develop strands of thought rather than demand a big laugh every 10 seconds.

Obviously still a work in progress (which must be a bit scary for him, with Edinburgh just two weeks away), the first half is stronger than the second, which has some good stories that definitely are in search of closure.

Personal favourite was the cat-stretching routine, but some work on the girlfriend routines is in order to make them less ordinary. It's all very well seeming like the funny guy down the pub, but if you're Sean Lock, you have to be bigger and better.

Definitely worth catching if you're up there, or in one of the squillion previews down here.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): ***

-- GEORGINA GUSH/July 1998


Lee Canterbury, Natalie Haynes and Addy Borg, COMEDY AT SOHO HO, Crown and Two Chairmen, W1


THESE three comics are not presenting a show together in Edinburgh, although each will be there in a bill show of some description. (Lee Canterbury is in the Daily Telegraph Open Mic finals, Addy is compering one of Screaming Blue Murder's superb Big Value Comedy Shows, and Natalie's in another show).

Last night was a chance for each to bash through up to 20 minutes of material, with no heckling (we'd been told, and amazingly everyone behaved as though at a Sunday tea with a rich aunt - laughing at every joke and glossing over any embarrassing moments).

Even better with no interval and no compere, this was a tight hour of entertainment without any of the stock in trade Q &A with an audience which can drain energy from a gig.

Lee Canterbury, has a former incarnation as a holiday rep, and I can well believe it. So good-natured and smiley and full of bounce you want to hide in the sand dunes. He had the hard job in opening, and his material, recalling '70s animal progs, disco and teen angst was amusing but somehow dated - not so much nostalgia, more a lack of development.

He tore through a short set and lost some material just through garbling.

Natalie Haynes has the making of a good comic, she's got tons of material and doesn't depending on a gurrl-gimmick to get laughs.

She raced along as though complete amnesia were just a heart beat away and if she didn't spit all the material out it would go forever.

As with much relationship humour, which can be so poignant, it sailed perilously close to therapy, covering revenge, betrayal, mercy shags and the anxiety about parents seeing the show.

Natalie is funny, like most women are, talking about personal life, but she just has give it an extra push to be more a performer and less the amusing dinner companion.

Finally to Addy Borg, polishing some old material, still funny on its tenth hearing, spicing it up with new stuff. This man has the ready-brek glow of the confident comic.

Falling on the good-looking side of odd (think Marty Feldman meets Antonio Banderas), he relaxes the audience by enjoying himself, without ever lapsing into smugness.

He's excellent with an audience who are on his side - can't wait to see him in Edinburgh with a bigger and more lippy crowd to put him on his mettle.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): ***

-- GEORGINA GUSH/July 1998


ED BYRNE and STUART LEE, The Banana Cabaret, SW12


STUART LEE is so thrilled with having had a long stint on telly that he bases half his act on people he's been told he looks like.

How deeply thrilling for us that he has been likened to pop star Roland Gift and Mark Fowler from EastEnders.

His languor sails perilously close to lazy and I was struggling to work out why he has acquired celebrity status. Having been cursed, by his own admission, with a sarcastic sounding voice, he could at least smile.

He's like a sneery adolescent boy that most mums would dread being brought home by their little girls.

By contrast, Ed Byrne would be the one that they're making sandwiches for and showing the baby pictures to.

Twenty-six going on 18, he's got shy charm worked out to a 'T': he's energetic, chatty, natural seeming.

Even when he's talking about wanking, you get the feeling that mum would be giggling behind her hand rather than disapproving.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): ***

-- GEORGINA GUSH


STAND UP TWO, COMEDY CAFE, EC1


RICHARD MORTON hosted this recording for a Radio Two show, warming up the stodgy audience with energy and aplomb.

Gentle Kevin Gildea did some amusing relationship stuff, Trevor Crook entertained with whales and butterflies - and Parsons and Naylor died on their arses, very much to their own surprise.

Song titles as conversation harks back to Punt and Dennis of 12 years ago. Must try harder. Lucrative advertising contracts obviously make you lazy.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): **

-- GEORGINA GUSH


CHARLOTTE PALMER at Buccaneers Comedy, W1


WHAT is wrong with Charlotte Palmer? Blah blah tampons, blah blah vibrators, blah blah genitalia. Then she turns into Mary Poppins, getting out her flute to play Ski Sunday. Get lost, Charlotte!

I'm sure there's a market for people who enjoy your brand of anatomically accurate humour, but they are probably sweating over their GCSEs and not old enough to go into a pub anyway.

And squealing girley-style at the audience that they're all crazy is not going to get up the energy (your avowed intent).

If you're too tired to perform, stand aside for someone who isn't. Mind you, I suspect a long kip wouldn't make an iota of difference to Palmer. She's been trotting this garbage out for more than a year. Remember, Jenny Eclair was doing it four years ago, and it wasn't funny then either. Get an act, Charlotte, or get another career!

But it wasn't all bunk at the Buccaneer. New act Mike Meakin showed strong stage presence which bodes well for when his material comes in.

Kevin Precious has been around for longer and has a relaxed, daffy presentation, and credits his audience with enough intelligence not to have to spell out every punchline.

Noel James, cursed in London what's on guide Time Out a few weeks ago with the tag of "a comedian's comedian", gave the lie to that dreadful description which normally means enormously unfunny.

He is surreal and gets away with punning, throwing away enough good quips for the comedy scavengers to swoop in and knit themselves an extra five minutes. And Noel boasts a likeable, schoolboy charm which tickles away at an audience, almost persuading them to let him off doing his homework. However, he skates through on charisma - and it's no substitute for putting in more work on the writing.

OVERALL STAR RATING (out of five): ***

-- GEORGINA GUSH


FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY AT JOE'S COMEDY MADHOUSE, LONDON N16


NORTH LONDON'S quirkiest comedy club did not disappoint as it celebrated its first birthday in typically eccentric style.

Talented Rob Rouse opened the show with a rousing half-hour set which was truly at the cutting edge. Few young stand-ups have the energy or pluck that he displays in everything from his highly controversial (often taboo) material to the extraordinary musical finale.

Rouse is one of the few newish acts on the London circuit who really looks like he has stardom written all over him.

Then there was a string of shorter performances: Danny Hurst struggled a little but Mick Twelves fared better with some top gags; musical impressionist Pamela Philips went down well.

Compere Michael Eaves kept the night bubbling along, only losing his temper with the wretched Enis who virtually refused to leave the stage!

As Joe Wilson explained when he handed round undercooked birthday cake he had baked himself, lunacy is every bit as much a part of the Madhouse as comedy - a fact illustrated by the prehistoric Dennis "Two-brushes" Ahearn who came out of retirement for another public grooming of his hair.

But no-one could doubt the comedy talent of the highline act Micky Flanagan who had kicked off the club exactly a year before.

His hilarious repartee with the audience, and particularly one drunken heckler, showed the remarkable degree to which he can think on his feet to superb comedic effect. Flanagan's 35-minute performance was one of the finest and funniest I have seen on any comedy stage.

STAR RATING (out of five): *****

-- PETER GUEST


ROLLY MOE at the Buccaneers Comedy, W1.


THE BUCCANEERS again - one of my fave clubs - where compere Andy Laud could give George Clooney handsome lessons, but can't warm-up a TV dinner - never mind an audience.

And so on to the dishonourable Rolly Moe. This whip thin character is a glutton for punishment.

I saw him buried by a silent walk-out by six people at a club a few weeks ago, and why the Buccaneers' crowd didn't flee to the bar for the Brazil match I do not know.

His ultra-slow, high-pitched delivery and strangled wheezing is reminiscent of Emo Phillips of blessed memory.

But unlike musicians, comedians are not allowed to be a one-man tribute-band.

Moe borrows his vocal style from Emo, and his sartorial presentation is that of the skinny fundamentalist preacher from David Byrne's 'Once in a Lifetime' video.

Why does he imagine it's funny to be as dislocated as a male loony on the bus and offering horribly to flirt with lone women in the audience?

This is like being caught up in the grimmest performance in a seventies cafe-theatre.

Whatever private agenda he is working out, it should not see the light of day.

Avoid at all costs!

STAR RATING (out of five): *

-- GEORGINA GUSH


THE IMPROV, LONDON W1


WHAT a night to be in the audience at this club in Tottenham Court Road! I was one of only 20 seated in London's most comfy barn.

Phil Davey, an acclimatised aussie, managed to talk to everyone in his role as MC - playing with a table of travelling Americans to great success without boring the rest of the audience.

Roly poly Andre Vincent, looking ten years younger than he did three months ago (amazing what a trip to San Francisco can do), raised the energy with a cheeky set about fat lads, obese women, the Titanic, and Louise Woodward as the next James Bond.

How these two guys stayed so good humoured playing to a couple of acres of check table-cloth I don't know, but they didn't moan at the audience like lesser comics might have done. They worked hard and brought us in to them.

Best of all was Trevor Crook. He makes a virtue of inertia and doesn't "do animated".

His ability to captivate an audience with a set on depression, S & M, bad marriages, Socrates and whales was as funny and original as anything you'll see this year.

Never before has calculated lethargy been so endearing.

The antithesis of the brutally-loud, bronzed Australian, he is slight, scruffy and softly spoken (anything else would be too much effort).

And Crook appears like a nocturnal animal blinking in the spotlight, the occasional lifting grin being the give-away that he's rather enjoying himself.

He only had to depart from his ambling, story-of-his-life approach to sort out a bunch of yappy barristers (I think they'd seen This Life once too often and fancied themselves.)

He gave the legal beagles the attention they'd been courting, snuffed them out and proceeded with the only successful unscripted, Q & A session I've ever seen. Ace!

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

-- GEORGINA GUSH


NELSON COMEDY CLUB, South Wimbledon


Ooh, what a chatty lot they are down at the newly stripped and scrubbed Nelson.

It was compered by the splendid Mandy Muden who scored highly on organising the audience, jazzing them up and launching the acts with unforced warmth.

Brian Damage's world-weary songs (or should I say song, since everything comes out to the same plinka-plinka tune) and deliberately lacklustre repartee cut through the table of students obviously used to entertainment with a pause and rewind button.

Danny Buckler impressed the hell out of anyone who was paying attention with a bit of magical escapology before our very eyes and James Holmes could build his career around a bad hair day, joyfully constructing his act on the basis that we're all caring, sharing, therapied fluffy bunnies. And who's to say we're not.

Woody Bop Muddy stormed the last section, roaring and smashing his way through the world's most embarrassing record collection. The audience roared back in delight.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

-- GEORGINA GUSH


A FRIDAY NIGHT AT THE BANANA CABARET, BALHAM, SW12.


THE queue formed at as ever at 7.45 pm with punters jostling to get through the doors first to nab the best seats.

Comedy fans at the front, hen parties and general pissheads at the back, the terminally late hanging off the balcony.

First off the block was affable and sweary Andy Parsons who more than warmed up a benevolent crowd with a set on drugs, chocolate, breakfast cereal (see the connections?) - and cat litter.

But it was try-out Keith Tilbury who won the crowd over with his aggressive lads-turning-into-hens routine. . . and promptly lost his audience with a nasty torrent of abuse about his girlfriend. Ritual slagging off isn't always funny, Keith.

Next act Martin Soan gaves the impression of being a lanky, wide-boy with Hollywood teeth (fine) but I groaned inwardly when he started wheeling out props.

There can be nothing more dismal than a prop act, but Soan transcends the form by having so many, whipping through some surreal combinations and being damn funny.

He closed his set with the funniest and most alarming use of rubber bands I've been privileged to guffaw at.

In the second half, Gina Yashere ripped the roof off with a bawdy, eyeball-rolling performance that left us begging for more.

You might have seen some of the material before in various forms, but she made it her own. Lacked subtlety, thank God.

Finally there was Mark Hurst - skilled enough not to have a gimmick, just up there chatting away with first-rate material, as relaxed as though he's just with a mate in the pub. Belting stuff!

STAR RATING (out of five): ****

-- GEORGINA GUSH

  
 
BIB & BOB, The Criterion Theatre, Piccadilly Circus, London

LET'S make no bones about it. Jerry Sadowitz and Logan Murray's sketch show is one of the most racist, distasteful and obscene productions to ever visit the West End.

Yet I found myself laughing like a drain from start to finish as the anarchic pair assaulted the senses with aspects of stand-ups I despise in others.

The trick they pulled off was to make everything a parody in a fast-moving orgy of futility - an act in which not a jot seemed to matter.

Superman flew again as Christopher Reeve was physically thrown from his wheelchair; an audience member was verbally battered by both performers merely for being bald (eventually he cracked and started to scream back abuse); and Sadowitz delivered an almost-unbelievable racist rant in the guise of an American entertainer.

It was highly disturbed stuff. Sadowitz is a mad, menacing figure on stage. I blinked in disbelief as he spat on a girl in the front row. In a sense, that vulgar act was more unexpected and shocking that the distasteful skits.

How anyone would dare to heckle a monster like Sadowitz is beyond me. One foolhardy drunk who tried incurred the full Sadowitz wrath. The crazed Scot ran to back of the theatre to scream abuse at the cowardly man who had shouted out something from behind a pillar.

The aggression in the room seemed to be contagious. Soon an argument had broken out between another drunk trying to get to the toilet and a middle-class woman whose view had been blocked.

Sadowitz heckled one combatant, Logan picked on the other. You could easily imagine the show ending in a riot.

It reminded me of the last time I saw Sadowitz perform live, at a tiny backstreet theatre in Soho. During the show, an outraged comedienne in the audience punched him - and it definitely wasn't part of the act.

But to be honest, Sadowitz is only picking up where great American comics like Andy Kaufmann and Bill Hicks left off.

Bib and Bob are only so refreshing now because they shamelessly break all taboos - saying the unsayable; doing the undoable in the politically-correct Ben Eltonized late 1990s.

And not all their act was on the edge. The send-up of observational stand-up ("Do you read the Independent? Have you got a cat?") was inspired, as was their attack on West End theatre critics. (I know the late Jack Tinker would have loved their dig at him).

And the Venetian Blinds sketch (in which two blind men from Vienna did a dance routine) was more slapstick than offensive.

Ultimately, the show ended up with a good old-fashioned muck around. Murray was down to his boxer shorts and Sadowitz (always wanting to outdo his less famous colleague) was not wearing a stitch, as they enacted a martial arts film spoof casting out liberal quantites of baked beans and ketchup.

On my way out of the theatre, I popped into the toilet to find oikish young men weeing in the Criterion sinks - and revelling in the sick and racist elements of show.

As ever, the risk with racist and perverted parody is that half your audience will be total asses determined to take it all at face value.

-- John Loblich