Festival Comedy list.co.uk/festival
YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED Somehow making maths funny ●●●●●
It’s hard to believe that travel and science journalist Timandra Harkness once had a Princess Diana joke banned by Carlton TV. Alongside stand-up mathematician Matt Parker, the mood of this show is light and fluffy, even if it is chiefly covering the darkest of subjects: death. More specifically, it’s concerned with the date when members of the packed audience might meet their maker. Naturally, there are graphs and diagrams and low-level experiments aplenty, with Harkness leaving most of the geeky stats stuff to Parker, while she does a bit of faux-flirting with a chosen audience member. An enjoyable little affair, Your Days
Are Numbered kicks off with an amusing/startling factoid that we have a 0.000043% chance of dying during this performance before informing us that smoking, drinking and being overweight may not be quite as bad for you as health campaigners want us to believe. If you fancy getting fully involved, make sure you have access to a calculator. If you want to be mercilessly ribbed by these genial hosts, bring along an iPad. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Assembly Rooms, 623 3030, until 30 Aug, 11.25am, £9 (£7).
TOULSON AND HARVEY A not-so slight return for Perrier- nominated duo ●●●●● In their first Fringe venture together for three years, Luke Toulson and Stephen Harvey prove that the old chemistry is still intact, as they reach deep into their theatrical and comedic
24 THE LIST 26 Aug–9 Sep 2010
reserves to produce a show about partnerships and friendships going awry. It kicks off with their own separation (though I’m fairly sure that the scene with Toulson leaving Harvey for dead by the side of a road is most probably a metaphor) before moving on to Jesus and Judas, an Austrian best man and groom, and Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
The cutting between scenes is often over-ambitious and leads to a degree of confusion which isn’t always helped by some very personal audience interaction. But the fun which these two are clearly having upon their reunion translates itself to the crowd, which is just as well, as a strong level of trust needs to be in place before they indulge in a gloriously offensive song about a few tabloid-grabbing British TV celebs. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 30 Aug, 5.10pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7–£8).
NEXT ISSUE OUT WEDNESDAY 8 SEPTEMBER
TIM CLARE’S DEATH DRIVE A road trip with a difference ●●●●●
Talented performance poets/live literati talking about going back to live with their parents is all the rage this year. That is, if a ‘rage’ can be constituted by two shows, the excellent piece by Ross Sutherland at the Underbelly, and here in the shape of his fellow Aisle 16er, Tim Clare. Death Drive starts off with him recalling the moment when, all suicidally depressed, he forced his dad to take up a challenge and attempted to off the pair of them. But dads being what they are (generally rubbish and embarrassing) the plan failed miserably. From there, we get a heartfelt and wildly entertaining hour pinned in by the mantra that ‘time is longer than hope’ as we hear of Clare’s terrible teenage years in search of enlightenment and his ‘manic pixie dream girl’. Even better than his ability to rhyme ‘flabby/stabby/Punjabi’ with guile and conviction, is Clare’s belief in the ‘performance’ aspect of his job. He pulls his body across the stage
fuelled by all manner of contorted gestures and dramatic tics, pushing his fragile frame into physical and emotional spots that give a deep resonance to the glorious words he speaks. Ending with a rip-roaring interpretation of ‘My Favourite Things’, Tim Clare is surely now on a road to somewhere. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Zoo Roxy, 662 6892, until 29 Aug, 7pm, £6.50–£7.50 (£6–£7).
RICH FULCHER Smutty drag act comes on a little strong ●●●●●
‘A woman with tits’ is how Rich Fulcher introduces his current favourite character creation, Eleanor (The Tour Whore). Spotted first in season three of The Mighty Boosh, this dusky, seductive lady has been recast as a sordid super-groupie, happy to take all-comers, and broach the most intimate of carnal details in a confessional seminar/book reading about her life of sexual experimentation and degradation. Eleanor has had ‘liaisons’ with a number of
musicians. And by ‘liaisons’ she means ‘full penetrative anal sex’. Yes, this is one for fans of vulgarity. There’s enough talk here of human squelchiness to satisfy the most puerile mind, and on the whole it strikes the right balance between Carry On-style innuendo and straight- up statements of deviant fact.
The barrage of smut is channelled through Eleanor’s autobiography, My Highs and Helloooooooos! which she reads from through the show. These sections produce some gems, with Fulcher indulging in the sort
of surreal storytelling and general molestation of the English language that (dance moves aside) constitute his real comedic strengths. ‘You will smell poetry,’ Eleanor warns at the top of the show. ‘I invented the phrase, “Pound you like yesterday’s beef”.’ When Eleanor gets to her father’s shore-bound attempts at whale hunting (‘he was shit,’ she admits), things reach a brilliant peak. But then there are a few too many weak set-pieces, pre-recorded videos, songs, sound effects, props and inappropriate interactions with audience members – all helping Eleanor to cram in more filth – that gradually detract from the strength of Fulcher’s wordplay. The show starts to feel tacked together, with the end a particular anti-climax. You wish Fulcher would delve a little deeper into his own brilliant mind, rather than fishing about in the Fringe-standard shallow waters of sexual comedy. More talking and a little less thrusting would help. (Jonny Ensall) ■ Udderbelly’s Pasture, 08445 458 252, until 30 Aug, 11.30pm, £13–£16 (£11.50–£14).