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Review

22nd August

Overall, though, this was a show that the Fringe is built upon - it could only exist in the world of Fringe theatre, and I was glad to have seen it.

"What do you get when you cross an exhausted, disinterested audience, who have paid no money, with a bunch of lack-lustre comedians who are prepared to play for free?"

23rd August

The show was clearly larger than the timeslot provided and the modest audience would have been prepared to stay longer and hear more of the story, or hear less of it at less than breakneck pace.

However, hurtling through the tale with laughs along the way did us all just fine and the somewhat overly-produced wrap-up at the end was what the story probably needed, even if it did jar a bit with the overall style of the show.

Even her introduction to the show, which was nothing more than an excuse for why she was croaky, was the source of much laughter.

I spent most of the show leaning forward on the edge of my seat because I wanted to hear more.

26th August

When we thought this was just going to be stand-up, we turned out to be wrong. In suitable places, Mark impersonated the various objects which blight his life and brought the story to life for us.

With strong performing skills and a finale which involved the audience throwing socks into a bin for good luck, this was a strong show which deserved greater audience support.

So, in we went for a bemusing hour. There's no doubt that there were some sketches in there, but in places they were mystifying. There's no doubt that the performances were strong - indeed, the cast were the best part about the show. The whole thing was stitched together by the fibres of some fake-twisted-version-of-kids'-TV but I can't quite work out how or why.

Overall, it passed us over, while some of the other supporters hooted with joy.

They had stitched the show together around the rather flimsy framework of racial tolerance. Jay is Asian and Juliette is Jewish. It's no surprise that they'd each have something to say on the subject of racism. The sad thing, however, is that they didn't have anything surprising or interesting to say on that subject. Indeed, Jay's suggestion of converting "P*ki jokes" into "Racist Jokes" was possibly the most original, yet the least satisfying - turning the derogatory attack on ethnic groups into an attack on the racists might seem like fun, but it feels at hateful as racism - "How do you stop a racist from drowning? Take your foot off his head."

Not many laughs then.

However, Juliette has a quirky charm about her stage persona, and Jay is a very charismatic performer. Both can do better and probably will.

27th August

I've since bought this show on DVD and it is a truly triumphant piece of writing and performing.

We were doing our show in this room, which was packed out for Stewart's show (rather than a third full for ours). So, I had the strange experience of sitting in familiar surroundings with my own mirror ball motor running above my head, sharing a row with Harry Hill, while watching Stewart do his thing. I'm glad I hung around the box office as long as it took to wangle the ticket. I had to pay for this ticket, despite having a venue pass, as the show was a sell out. The only reason I got in at all, was because the box office staff, knowing me, were prepared to let me have one of the very special reserved seats, provided nobody else in the venue management needed it.

I should have made it my business to see this show sooner.

Basically, we were told that this show was bad. We thought it couldn't be that bad. Joined by another act using the venue, we sat away from the paying punters and watched the horror unfold.

In fairness to the paying punters, who had no doubt come on the basis of the publicity, which claimed the act was a Perrier Nominee (which he had been under a different guise), they did their best to make the show work, while we cynically sat, arms folded, and tried not to throw up. Given that we'd not paid for tickets, we felt it would be unfair to stage a walk-out, so we sat through the whole thing. We'll never get that hour of our lives back.

While the performer playing Roger Strokes was clearly capable of holding a room and delivering a script, the whole script was one poor joke after another. Largely based around puns and tacky seaside-postcard humour, the premise was that Roger Strokes, a psychic, was going to "come into" the audience, psychically.

With audience interaction pieces that were butt-clenchingly embarrassing, rather than funny, and a finale which involved Roger stripping down to his incontinence pants and simulating sex with a member of the audience, this show was an aberration against the Fringe and deserves its score of negative 1 stars.

Booooo!