Night of a thousand the fuck…?

Well Clapham, it was an interesting night.

This was down to one crowd member whose mysterious (partly) interior monologue will remain a mystery.

From the outset this enthusiastic lady, let’s call her Jazz, chipped in and laughed heartily.

But like a poorly-synched DVD bought in a pub for £2 she did this in mostly the wrong places. What the hey though, it all counts. Even if it was a tiny bit hugely disruptive.

No matter. Opener Adam Race powered out of the stocks and set everyone else’s fire alarm woes in context. Excellent stuff from the Race who will grace the FC again on a slightly less crazy night, we hope.

Next up, Jack Barry ripped the place the pieces with his excellent bits and nonchalant cheek. A hero of comedy, like a band with a couple of very good albums, playing those songs live, with a bit of extra, jammed stuff.

Russ closed the first half with some well-wrought material on the needless competitiveness that bedevils interactions between men. There was also one of the key moments of Jazz interaction in his set. It came when his choice of verb to describe his conception left Jazz honking with ha for roughly 1m30. It was amazing, like feeding time in the seal pen.

After a break Dangerous T made his Fat Controller debut. Many have tried to describe T’s act and all have failed. Suffice to say he got a great response mixing new with old in a style that really is his alone.

And it was nothing to do with him that Jazz, had at this point started crying. No one knew what had caused it, but like a summer storm it was completely unexpected but over quite quickly.

And she perked back up in time for Berkshire import Finnius Grenfell.

Finnius waltzed through some strong material before becoming involved in this exchange with Jazz.

Does anyone here like football?

I do

Who do you support?

Er……. Arsenal

Ok, me too. Who’s your favourite player?

Er……..ok……. football?

Yes. Football.

My favourite player….. would have to be…… Wiltshire. Wiltshire is my favourite player.

I see. Yes, he plays next to Dorset.


It was immense reader, you should have been there. But whatever.

Next up, sharing a 10-minute spot between them like Cheech and Sundance, Geoff Marsh and Tim Renkow brought the evening home in rollicking form. New material from each but also a by-turns tender then righteous series of interactions with Jazz, who by this point had entirely recovered.

Clapham (and elsewhere), a good and entirely unique comedy time was had by all.



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