FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews
ROMESH RANGANATHAN Talented newcomer springs a leak ●●●●●
Word is clearly spreading about Romesh Ranganathan. Among the crowd at this particular performance is Josh Widdicombe who is sat beside an e-fag-puffing Seann Walsh. In the row down from them is an impressed-sounding Hardeep Singh Kohli, while that looks an awful lot like Al Murray near the back. The reputation of this talented newcomer is blossoming and while debut hour, Rom Com, is a jovial enough affair, there’s a slight lack of true grit to push him over the top.
Ranganathan is keen to tell us how terrible he is at things. He was a ‘really bad’ maths teacher at the school where he met his wife (a ‘really good’ teacher), he doesn’t rate his qualities as a dad of two (‘they’re mixed race so it’s time for them to pick a side’) and he’s not an especially good vegan, having just graduated from vegetarianism but preparing to lapse at any second. His summation: ‘I’m a tubby vegan sociopath’.
What he definitely has going for him is a solid comedy presence with fine turns of phrase and a compelling rhythm when he gets into his stride (he could do with cutting down on the number of times he says ‘prick’ though: not for prudish reasons, just to limit the repetition). None of the ‘celebs’ in the crowd were disruptive; that was left to a bladder-troubled front-row couple who chose to nip out very indiscreetly. Ranganathan dealt with the interruption of his own particular flow adeptly, mock-accusing them of picking the moment he began to discuss Sri Lanka as their cue to make a toilet stop.
Bright things are clearly ahead for Romesh Ranganathan and once the Fringe gets motoring, and more word gets round, he can probably expect further packed houses comprising both the famous and us mere mortals. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Underbelly, Bristo Square, 0844 545 8252, until 25 Aug, 6.50pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50).
DON’T DROP THE EGG Rugger chaps try hard but don’t pass muster ●●●●●
Rather than being a school sports day pep talk, the titular egg refers to the oddly-shaped rugby ball. Archie and Ollie are proud members of the Clapham Falcons rugby team. Having roped in their reluctant mate Freddie to play a match when team numbers are down, the love triangle between Freddie, Archie and his girlfriend Ellie unfurls. This began life as a mockumentary short film but, unfortunately, its transition to Fringe show isn’t a particularly successful one. The group does excel when it comes to audience interaction, with manchild Ollie stripping off to greet the audience as we stroll in, and the recruitment of extra players from the crowd creates a sense of energy in the room.
However, a lacklustre script hands all the best dialogue to Ollie, leaving the other two wading gamely through the sub-soap plot. There’s a chance it may get slicker as the month progresses, but sadly it feels like a wasted opportunity to do something a lot sharper and more akin to their much snappier film version. (Marissa Burgess) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 26 Aug (not 12), 3.30pm, £7.50–£9.50 (£6.50–£9).
40 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2013
THAT PAIR Putting the fun back in funeral ●●●●● GYLES BRANDRETH Happy talk from boundless raconteur ●●●●●
You can’t buy the kind of natural chemistry and comic timing that Kathryn Bond and Lorna Shaw have got going on. These Essex girls make it all look very easy, which is usually a sign that a massive amount of work has gone on to make their new hour as polished and slick as possible. In his first Fringe show since 2010, Gyles Brandreth is on the search for happiness. Not necessarily for himself, as he seems quite content. That’s particularly evident as he’s happy to take to the stage wearing a jester’s costume: he’s clearly not left his TV days spent wearing novelty jumpers too far behind.
We find ourselves attending a funeral (or Nevertheless, he’s keen to get to the bottom of
a ‘too-soon-eral’) for Leanne, the agent, manager and friend of That Pair as a variety of acquaintances perform songs and routines which generally veer towards the highly inappropriate or just plain wrong.
The show’s title, Never Liked Her Anyway, hints that all might not have been rosy in the showbiz garden between That Pair and their ‘friend’ and a fairly simple reveal leads to mayhem at the ceremony’s finale. The seemingly effortless chatter of Bond
and Shaw (it won’t be, it takes plenty practice) keeps the fun flowing and the funeral set-up is a cleverly constructed arena to platform a variety of characters ranging from the gently amusing to downright hilarious. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Just the Tonic at The Caves, 556 5375, until 23 Aug (not 13), 3.40pm, £8 (£7).
his issue, dropping in on Jung and Freud’s theories as well as plundering the royal family and his own parents for inspiration. A presenter, producer and former Conservative MP for Chester, it’s no surprise that Brandreth is such a skilled raconteur. He’s stuffed with anecdotes and even derives a big laugh from Thatcher’s funeral. For any younger audience members (of which
there are some), the stories are engaging and elaborated on sufficiently that it doesn’t matter if you’re not entirely sure who they’re about. In addition, there’s a few hoary old gags thrown in, a bit of dancing and even space for a poignant moment remembering his schoolfriend, the actor Simon Cadell, who died too young. (Marissa Burgess) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 26 Aug (not 14), 4.20pm, £13–£17 (£11–£15).