{COMEDY} Reviews
SARAH MILLICAN Has the Geordie jester lost her bite? ●●●●●
After TV stints on Mock the Week, Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow and Loose Women, Geordie chatterbox Sarah Millican is a household name to many now, just three short years after her Fringe debut. The steep upswing in her career means she’s relocated to the Assembly Hall and a status-confirmed shorter run. Indeed, about a minute into her cuddly set, someone in her packed-out, 750-strong crowd blurts an excited, ‘We love you!’ in her direction.
There is clearly a lot of love in the room. And it’s hard not to adore someone as chummy and next-door-neighbourly as the self-effacing, Twix-loving, diet-abandoning Millican. ‘Wander round Asda – there are thousands of me!’ she shrugs, after describing herself as ‘a middle-aged woman, wittering on’. But while she’s made a name for herself with her gentle domestic blethers, and salt-of-the-earth observations, there are signs things may have become a little too cosy and settled chez Millican, taking some of the edge off her patter. That 2008 debut was called Sarah Millican’s Not Nice, where she hid a wickedly funny streak behind a sweet cupcake-and- teapot veneer. Recently divorced, she aimed her warm rants at fellow angsty thirtysomethings, and it won her the if.comedy Best Newcomer Award. Now, she seems to be talking to that audience’s parents.
Gags about Jackie Collins, snoring partners, central
heating, duvet stealing and doing the dishes prevent her material from breaking into fresh, more exciting territory, and keep it firmly grounded in the housewifey pigeonhole she has nestled into. A natural storyteller, with charm by the family-sized trolley
load, her safe and sensible approach might make sense in the theme-park analogy she makes, but it feels as though it’s slammed the brakes on her obvious comedy talents. (Claire Sawers) ■ Assembly Hall, 623 3030, until 28 Aug, 7.30pm, £14–£16 (£13–£15).
HOLLY WALSH A brave and bittersweet recollection ●●●●●
THE SEGUE SISTERS Flippant harmonious fun behind bars ●●●●● PIFF THE MAGIC DRAGON A laconic but jaw-dropping set ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
When her fellow comics were padding about the Fringe in August 2010, Holly Walsh was clowning around on Worthing Pier. Unfortunately, her charity leap into the West Sussex sea resulted in a shocking injury that led to national media coverage for the ‘former CBBC presenter’. The Hollycopter is the culmination of a year’s brooding over this calamity which Walsh was finally able to see the funny side of to carve out an hour of bittersweet comedy. Though many of the online comments she shows us from the Daily Mail veer from the bone-headed to the downright inhumane, Walsh reckons that deep down they might have a point. Given that she appears prone to ‘stupid stuff’ happening to her (a mugging, a flashing, and a freakishly similar incident in her local swimming pool at the age of 11 among them), why on earth would she have even attempted such a daring feat?
Walsh may insist that she’s not a risk-taker, but it’s an act of extreme courage to re-live this trauma night after night in a sweaty cellar. Whoever said that stand-up comedy at its purest is a very public form of therapy has got it bang on. (Brian Donaldson) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 29 Aug, 6pm, £8.50–£9.50 (£7–£8).
28 THE LIST 25 Aug–22 Sep 2011
It’s utterly incidental to the show, but let’s run through the story anyway: the three Segue Sisters have been convicted of song theft and sent down to a prison that’s a cross between Chicago’s sexed-up cell blocks and a Disney dungeon. As the trio ponder how to escape, they continue their crime of stealing songs by everyone from Metallica to Lady Gaga and putting their clipped and pretty Andrews Sisters-style stamp on them.
On their singing, they can’t be faulted: pin-sharp close harmonies are note perfect and make for some accomplished covers of unlikely targets. The somewhat laboured dialogue between the songs can feel like filler, although there are a few knowing references to The Shawshank Redemption.
It’s not enough these days for a magician to simply get up there on stage and do jaw-dropping tricks. A gimmick is always an added extra and in John van der Put’s case, he’s chosen to dress like a dragon, give himself a suitably puntacular name and, in his most daring twist yet, have a Chihuahua called Mr Piffles to occasionally help him out. Indeed, the pooch is integral to the show’s astonishing climactic illusion while throughout the hour providing much in the way of an ‘awww’ factor.
Where Put/Piff separates himself from the conjuring crowd (whether it’s the old school reverie of Paul Daniels or the blackly magical Barry and Stuart) is that his patter lays well off the cheese and is actually worthy of a comedy show.
The leopard-printed Charlotte Jo Hanbury delivers While there’s also some knockabout fun with his
all the best lines with the kind of hammy jocularity best suited to such irreverence, providing one of the show’s few hilarious moments when she gets a little carried away recreating the bassline to Eurythmics’ ‘Sweet Dreams’ while wearing a Rip van Winkle- esque beard. A harmless frippery of musical excellence rather than comedy genius. (Laura Ennor) ■ Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 28 Aug, 10.15pm, £8–£10 (£7–£9). glamorous but relentlessly miserable work- experience assistant, the joy of Piff is firmly lodged in the wonderfully impressive tricks and the amusing, laconic way he deals with the ones that go awry. He may announce the cost of all his props but an hour with Piff the Magic Dragon is priceless. (Brian Donaldson) ■ The Store, 556 5375, until 28 Aug, 6.40pm, £9–£10 (£8–£9).