Comedy Reviews

To many I'm sure that a magic show is childish, silly or old fashioned, or all these things rolled into one. It’s why its so surprising that a magic show is on at the Arts Centre. Why, indeed, there isn’t a section on Outline that it properly fits. Andrew Frost does all he can to dispel this. He dresses like a barista at the Strangers Coffee Company, swears freely and frequently, and has a nice line in self-deprecating humour.

The former Radio One DJs reunited at Epic Studios for a night of skits, anecdotes and two rubbish songs.

We may not be able to easily define a Britpop band, but we all know one when we see it.

The stories came thick and fast, but largely from the perspective of his private life, rather than his connections in show biz. Like the funniest bloke down the pub

Rouse is a comedian that turns hit and miss into an art form

His observations were smile-funny rather than belly-laugh funny, but smiling is better than scowling. If he prefers to keep his routines light and, dare I say, inconsequential, then he has every right to.

The combination of personal anecdotes and irate bafflement at our current cultural, social and political mess works well

A very comfy chair seemed to exactly match a laconic, measured delivery that would surely have brought to mind the late, great Dave Allen even without the name drop. Throughout, he seemed so at ease I'd have assumed the upholstered support was part of his schtick — maybe it should be, given how well it seemed to work for him.

The most I’ve laughed in “yonks”!

Ray O'Leary, is fair to say, has a distinctive way about him. Wild, curly hair. Beer belly out and proud. A face only a mother could love. And that suit. It's a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing and that he does it very well.

On another night, any one of the line-up could have reasonably headlined a comedy night — Ed Gamble, Rachel Parris, and Paul Sinha on the same bill felt almost like overkill. All Stars indeed.

What seemed clear from the outset was how much fun Adam Riches was having, and how effortlessly that good humour infected everything that went on.

It says much for Helm's evident charm - almost in spite of himself - that a combination of meandering chat and show tunes worked at all, let alone proved thoroughly engaging.

His masterly command of the stage and his considerable charisma hides it well, but he has been trotting out the same gags, the same asides and - of course - the same poems for at least fifteen years. How big a problem that represents is largely down to the affection in which he is held.

Yes, there was prepared stuff about grinding her teeth, a throwaway reference to Charlie Kirk, and a criticism of the status quo (situation, not band) but nothing compared to the comedy gold of the UPS distribution centre in Tamworth.

Plaudits are due to Epic for hosting an evening that was never boring and, for the most part, hugely entertaining. I look forward to the next time the Anglia Comedy Allstars come out to play

Frankly, I was not the target audience for this show, but I still laughed so hard my chest hurt

This was an outstanding night of well structured, faultlessly executed, comedy/performance art and credit is due to the Theatre Royal for opening up a space for such an exhilarating, genre defying show.

I say "cosy" not in a snide or condescending way, but because it's simply the best word I can think of describe the warm hearted disposition of the man whose company felt like time spent with the uncle everyone wishes they had.

I was frequently amused, and remained engaged throughout, but I don’t think that I was able to indicate my appreciation in a particularly audible way. Hopefully this message will go some way to redressing this, as I am confident that I will remember last night for far longer than the other meetings I attended this week.

If a comparison is needed then imagine the puns of Tim Vine, the lunacy of Spencer Jones, the relentlessness of Gary Delaney, and the sight gags of the late, great Tommy Cooper.

Extravagantly queer and dramatically hilarious, Kate Butch runs up that stage at Norwich Playhouse theatre with live singing and a superb performance.

Free Mason is a refreshing departure from the relentless punchline-chasing of mainstream stand-up. Mason offers something intimate here and more textured—a carefully observed patchwork of life’s smaller, stranger moments.

Her gift, and it cannot be overstated, is to normalise what might otherwise be too traumatic to discuss, embracing not only her philosophy but her audience as well, so that the evening felt less like a performance and more like a conversation.