His fifteen years in comedy are a comforting sanctuary in contrast to the up and coming ‘youths’ and though he admittedly feels out of touch, he’s on the mark over current affairs. His class and intelligible charm are his endearing features, found in his initial fear of London not being able to keep up with Beijing’s workforce (particularly their advantage for working ‘in fear of imprisonment’). Post Olympics and with Britain back to weekend football, though he’s no fan, he enjoys the relief of the ‘underclass poison being removed from the high street and fenced into a pen on Saturday afternoons’.
Even when talking crassly, his air of wisdom and endearing intellectual smugness make talk of ‘Felching’, googling Rick Santorum’s surname (an ironic gay term), and comparing Disneyland to Auschwitz a compelling listen. Informing the crowd he’ll be in the Wagon & Horse for a malt whisky (his choice of beverage when reading tales of gangrene and heroism to his five year old for bed time) the man the who lives on the coast that smells of ‘biscuits and wee’ was indeed found with said whisky in hand. Neither wanting nor willing to give away too much of his act away, ‘Friendly Fire’ was soaked in a compelling wry, razor sharp droll of wit and sarcasm only found in the mastermind with an ‘educated accent’.
Words: Simon Herriott