Two tattoos, a meeting on a fridge and a thousand tiny pissing angels

Welcome traveller, let me take your cloak, you must be tired from your journey.

Sorry readers, I’ve been reading the Game of Thrones book, and even though the plot and characterisation are interesting the writing is a bit cheesy.

But that’s not the point, the point is how did Clapham’s premier free comedy night full of hand-picked acts for FREE! go last Sunday?

Well, traveller, well.

The mighty Viv Groskop was compering to an audience who had more character than a haunted bouncy-castle lighthouse.

After some deft MC-ing the crowd were as putty in her hand as the hilt of a plasticine sword would have been, thanks for stepping in Viv!

The unique mind and superb tailoring of Helen Casey opened our night. You can see a bit of her in the clip but this was but a lock of her full head of comedy hair. Brilliant writing and a winning delivery, cheers Helen!

Ean Luckhurst is fast becoming a circuit favourite and you could see why on the evidence of his assured set in the second spot. Bees, the depth-perception of his dog and an unforgettable pensioner – merely listing some topics doesn’t convey the fun, so watch a little of it in the video.

Berkshire wildman Fineas Grenfell brought the first half into the station like an expert train driver, or someone very good at manouevring ships docking a merchantman in a crowded harbour. I do my best with these metaphors but what I’m saying he was very good, with killer punchlines nestling in the undergrowth like a very accomplished big game hunter/sex pest. You see what I mean? It’s difficult. He was very good is what I mean, it’s late.

“This is all very well Ben, but where are these tattoos we were promised?”

Alright, alright. The wonderful Stephanie Laing showed us the first of the evening’s body art – a tattoo just above the midriff of the word “Breathe”. You don’t get that with the Fresh Prince of Bel Air! She did a whole load of delightful comedy which our camera had unfortunately run out of space to share with you but check her out to hear some eye-opening anagra (‘anagrams’? YOU decide!) and a disinfectant-prompting mic technique sign-off.

A newcomer to the Fat Controller’s night of free comedy in Clapham, Elizabeth Hotson told of her parents fridge-top meeting amidst a winningly-relentless stream of Taste The Difference funny ha-ha and funny odd. A pleasure to have down and a treat to watch and listen to with eyes and ears.

We booked Nathan Cassidy hoping for a boy we’d seen on YouTube who fell asleep and had a penis drawn on his head.

Instead we got comedian Nathan Cassidy who was much better than some dozy dick-headed kid would have been.

With the dash of a WWII airman and the material and delivery of a professional comedian he brought the evening to a suitably glorious end.

(Just to be clear, when I say ‘the material and delivery of a professional comedian’ I mean ‘he is a professional comedian’. Not that he isn’t a professional comedian but has stolen a professional comedian’s material and delivery).

His finale saw a touching tribute to the other Nathan Cassidy when, with the poise of a high priest making the annual blood-sacrifice to a merciless deity, he drew a penis on his own forehead while the audience joined hands and sang All You Need Is Love.

I’m not joking, it really was a bit of an event. The only sad thing being we’d run out of space on the digital camera so it is lost to the ages, living on only in these feeble words of mine.

Come down next time and see the stars of the day after tomorrow (let’s be realistic) today!




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