Clapham comedy enconium

I don’t know what ‘enconium’ means if I’m honest. I’ve written it to see if it brings in a different kind of traffic.

“Enconium eh? Let’s have a look. Oh no. This is nothing to do with encomia”

Anyway, another vintage night for the Fat Controller with fine acts making their prestigious debut appearances and other fine acts doing it out of a teeth-clenched duty.

Toby Muresianu opened beautifully for us after the fireworks were given out and the room had been divided into teams. I got his name wrong subsequently when running the quiz bits which I feel genuinely guilty about. Apologies Toby, look at his beautfully-crafted stuff here.

After the American, the Brightonian, Phil Jerrod. Well he was from the country and said so and now lives in Brighton. Of all the acts we have had at The Railway over the year the Fat Controller has been strutting about, none has quite so accurately and hilariously nailed the world of work. Or had such an evocative beard. A delight to our audience and ourselves.

Who was next? Max Dickins was next and did very well too. Fresh from an Edinburgh (it was only three odd weeks ago, alright ‘freshish’) anyway, it was lapped up by Clapham.

Bringing warm memories of Street Fighter II flooding back and featuring a joke about hands, Stella Graham was the other ventricle that made up the heart, middle of the night. I’ve made a metaphorical rod for my own back with this vital-organs-for-acts metaphor but I’ll try and persevere with it.

The pancreas of our evening, secreting important enzymes and hormones, fifth act James Ross brought his trademark flair and verbal dexterity to the important penultimate spot. Bravo James!

Closing the evening with his distinctive sophistication and expertly-paced elan was the both lungs of Scott Merrington. A suitable closer for a charming evening.

Note for audience: I know I said I lost the prize, I subsequently found it again and gave it to the winners. See you soon!

 

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