We hate reptiles at Fat Controller Comedy, Clapham. And we have that in common wtih St Patrick (snakes) and St George (dragons).
And it was St P whose day saw crowds gathered outside the Railway, too drunk in their Guinness hats to get let in. Their loss because indoors and upstairs there was another dreamy bill of comedy.
No one that we know of had a procreative stab in the toilets in the interval like last week but there was still ha-ha in abundance.
First up Amir Khoshsokhan charmed an audience of mainly nurses and IT salesmen with his soothing delivery and awesome timing.
And even the wildest clinical extremes seen by the sisters or the oddest things on the internet could scarce have matched second act Candy Markham for invention, verve and spectacle.
Guile from Street Fighter II-alike Geoff Marsh educated and entertained with a science-themed set taking in evolution, free will, amazonian tree frogs and testicular buoyancy at bathtime.
Adam Greene socked home a set with the imperious swagger of a young Mussolini but with better jokes and without the politics. Catch him do a longer set this Sunday to see what we mean.
From the fetid locks and stillborn urban regeneration schemes of King’s Cross came Matt Comras to take the fifth spot on the bill.
A winning presence with some joyous material the medical world will want to know about, you can catch him MCing the Crying Duck night near a major railway station in north London that was once famed for its sex workers.
Our lucky audience had a superb pre-penultimate act in Tim Renkow. The North Carolinian did not disappoint when he said “I’m going to be funny for the first six minutes then very offensive for the last three”. He wasn’t joking. Well he was, but he wasn’t inaccurate. The crowd’s new favourite American.
Closing the night and putting in a joyous performance in spite of coming straight from a stag weekend was the North-East’s answer to Vic and Bob, Jack Gardner.
He bought with him a certain special lady, a lady who once seen is never forgotten. A lady whose name is Betty Blue Eyes but whose face is terror itself.
What do I mean? I mean that if you’ve seen her you’ll know what I mean. If you haven’t then I very much suggest that you do.