A Series of Brief Reviews Okay, let's get this thing on the road, shall we? Many thanks to Paragon for grading Nobody's Got No Class, an important look at Monty's integration into high society. It was a lot of fun to write for plenty of reasons but oddly enough what I liked most was giving the wheezy lad an opportunity to see all of Zeltiva from one place. Sure magic is all shiny and fancy and dangerous but you can see the entire city from up there. For a boy who was always unable to appreciate the full scale of things from his little cage, I like to think that meant a lot. Anywho, onto today's topic. It's not so much a discussion one, more of a report, but I wanted to share.
About a week back I returned from that most wonderful of exotic holiday destinations: Scotland. I was in Edinburgh for the Edinburgh Fringe, the world's largest arts festival most famous for its stand-up comedy. It's home to the E4 Udderbelly, an immense tent in the shape of an upturned purple cow, the head of which is the oddly phallic looking object in the image above. It also spawned the careers of most of Britain's comedians, or was at least a turning point. It was the first place that the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead was performed and, well, it's pretty great. Established comedians test new routines there, often in tiny venues. Last year, for example, I sat not three metres from Phill Jupitus in a tiny little pub in his first show after a long hiatus. There are also a tonne of free shows from the unknowns who plaster you with flyers as you walk down the Royal Mile.
This year I saw five established comedians whom I shall now discuss in order of viewing. The first was Susan Calman, she's Glaswegian, recently married her girlfriend of nine years and is an oft-heard voice on BBC Radio 4, of which I am an avid listener due to having an inner child in his forties. While I do like her on the radio, I feared that holding her own on the stage she might not be quite as funny as she was riffing off of other people, but I'm glad to say she exceeded my expectations. Not immensely, but enough to leave me pleasantly surprised. The entire performance was in essence a love letter to her wife, explaining all of her deep, inherent flaws, such as dressing up her cats and being passionately in love with fictional detective Jane Tennison, and culminating in her breaking down in tears at how she had actually managed to find someone who still wanted to marry her, and how they couldn't officially call it a marriage. It was good fun, and ranked third of the five.
The second I saw was Marcus Brigstocke, who I had seen before and loved. He's more televisually inclined but also spends a fair amount of time on Radio 4 and is highly political. That is to say, if you're of conservative inclinations he's probably not going to be your cup of tea. However, this time he was rather disappointing. He's an excellent comedian and, as I have previously stated, the Fringe is a testing ground for new material which doesn't always work. He spent a lot of time railing at David Cameron, which is fine, but repeatedly calling him Camoron got a bit tired, and he started with a tirade about how racism is fine if you're not actually racist which didn't go down well with his Radio 4-listening, Guardian-reading demographic. Fifth of five.
Greg Proops is a name familiar in the UK only to those who were fans of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, an excellent improv programme that aired a fair while back. The US version is far more recent but I don't doubt he's been on that plenty of times too. He started rather poorly for a reason that he really can only blame himself for. Jokes at the expense of the Opening Ceremonies would probably have flown in any other country in the world...not so much here. But once he got onto the topic of music he picked up the crowd and it just got better from there. I wasn't sure what to expect, as I had only seen his improv prior to the performance, but he really was excellent. Second of five.
Sandi Toksvig. I don't think I need to say more. First of five.
Oh? Sorry? You don't know who she is? Well, for all the overseas people who are unaware, Sandi Toksvig is brilliant, amazing, wonderful. Seriously, there is nothing bad to say about her. Her show was incredibly well written to the point that it seemed spontaneous which, from a technical standpoint, is incredibly difficult to pull off. She's also led an incredible life. She showed us a photo of her and her castmates from the first ever all-female Cambridge Footlights production from way back when. Four people: her; Emma Thompson; Jan Ravens; and one other face that no one recognised because she didn't go into entertainment. She did however move to Edinburgh and happened to be sitting not five seats to my right, and upon discovering this Sandi bounded up the steps and forced her to agree to come to tea after the show. Toksvig's father was also Denmark's only foreign correspondent at the time of the moon landings and was in the control centre when Armstrong stepped onto the moon, and brought Sandi with him. She held Armstrong's secretary's hand. Toksvig: fuckin' A. First of Five.
Aaaand finally: Jimmy Carr. Jimmy Carr is known for his acerbic wit and dark humour, for making offensive jokes designed to piss people off. He's also rather famous, being on all the shows on Channel 4 and quite a few on the BBC. He is incredibly popular and very quick, and admittedly pretty funny. But there was something off. I didn't enjoy his show as much as I thought I should have. He was on top form, his jokes were largely well crafted, but there was just something I didn't enjoy. It took me a while to figure it out but here it is: he's not real. Now that sounds pretentious and prissy and I hate myself for saying it but it's true. I don't care about the private lives of celebrities, of comedians, but my favourites all draw on their real lives, their real experiences to create their shows. If Brigstocke uses the first person he's more than likely expressing his real opinion, or telling a real story. If Carr does it, it's for a punchline, it's not true just a quick fix joke. And that's his style, and I don't begrudge him that, but it's not my cup of tea. I prefer him on TV, on panel shows where he's being himself, not some ridiculous joke machine. Fourth of Five.
Whew, that was way longer than it should have been. Normal grumpily philosophical service shall resume shortly.
Word of the day: nauseous, the quality of inspiring nausea, not of suffering from nausea.
-Monty |