FESTIVAL COMEDY | Reviews

JENNY ÉCLAIR Growing older disgracefully and hilariously ●●●●●

The majority of tonight’s audience is made up of ladies (and some men) of a certain age and though there are youngsters here, many of them are their offspring. It’s good to see the kids as there’s a great deal to learn from Jenny Éclair, and some things that you probably wouldn’t want to ever have to think about again. The floral armchair on the stage is hugely deceptive: Éclair

may be 53 now but she hasn’t changed a bit. Within a couple of minutes of bounding onto the stage Éclair has mentioned bras and tampons and made her first of several fart gags. Of course, it’s this kind of revelling in all things toilet that Éclair is well- known for, but her peculiarly feminine / feminist spin on all that grubbiness was recognised by the Perrier panel back in 1995, making her the first solo woman to win the award.

Unashamed to verbally let it all hang out, there’s no line Éclair won’t cross. She’s thoroughly unabashed about the workings of the female body and mind, and thoroughly potty-mouthed in her delivery of her findings. These days, the comic’s concerns are a lack of sex (a relief to her ‘wanking biceps’), the onset of the menopause, the amount of 50th birthdays she’s now having to attend and the disgraceful behaviour she’s forced to adopt for them. 50 Shades of Grey gets an inevitable mention, with a huge eff-off to its simpering submissiveness.

But it’s never just been shock value with Éclair: behind all the filth is some sharp gag-writing and a lovely way with words (unsurprising, given that she’s been writing novels for a while now). Éclairious is riotously good fun and a glorious celebration of what it means to be a disrespectful woman. (Marissa Burgess) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 17 Aug, 7.30pm, £13.50– £14.50 (£12.50–£13).

E N R O H T A L L U E V E T S

E N R O H T A L L U E V E T S

THE APPALLING CARLY SMALLMAN Vaguely narcissistic debut hour ●●●●● LOST VOICE GUY Fatty script yields slim pickings ●●●●●

SUZY BENNETT Too much information in a packed debut ●●●●●

With this title, has Carly Smallman failed to be ironic? This debut set starts stonkingly well with a song about brotherly incest, but degenerates into twee compositions and skits about the comedian’s six-year-old niece. A chance one-liner elicits the best response of the evening, but given the opening, her audience might have been left expecting something a little more risqué. The end result is rather sweet and endearing and totally at odds with the initial shock.

There’s a healthy dose of good guitar playing and wry wit from this likeable comic, but Smallman’s act is perhaps better suited to a casual gathering in the local pub among friends. Much of the camaraderie flowing from the stage is direct at the female members of the crowd which may well leave the male members of the audience feeling a little alienated.

Besides which, it might be tricky for many to

connect with Carly Smallman’s slightly narcissistic music, given that this hour includes a love song about herself. A show with a rather narrow focus, though not wholly without broader potential. (Miriam Sturdee) Gilded Balloon Teviot, 622 6552, until 25 Aug (not 13), 7.30pm, £8 –£10 (£6–£8).

44 THE LIST FESTIVAL 8–15 Aug 2013

Struck with cerebral palsy at the age of six months, losing muscle strength and his voice, Lee Ridley turned to stand-up as a way to recover what had been taken from him. His prosthetic digital voice, courtesy of an iPad, delivers a pre-programmed show, with the most charming moments coming from Ridley’s unscripted reactions to his own material.

Curiously, the plodding delivering of Ridley’s digital voice supplies both truly awful and rather superb comedic timing, especially in his recollection of the Spice Girls-inspired gang names he and his disabled schoolmates cooked up. Playing off the techie advantages of his voice makes for a series of amusing impressions (Stephen Hawking, natch), while his nouveau ventriloquist act with the Clint Eastwood-voiced ego of his iPad is a nice bit of (potentially unintended) throwback kitsch.

These moments, however, are rather buried

within a fatty script, the bulk of A Voice of Choice comprising instead a biographical narrative more suited to a TED talk than the spotlight of the Edinburgh Fringe. (Jaclyn Arndt) The Stand III & IV, 558 7272, until 25 Aug (not 12, 19), 8.10pm, £8 (£7).

Suzy Bennett’s debut solo show is a sweet and rather tragic affair. Bubbly and endearing, she’s a dab hand at getting the audience onside with some preposterous self-lampoonery, and it’s genuinely impossible to know how much of her dignity-free tale from DIY vajazzles to sex-addiction rehab is true: if all of it, then she’s remarkably chipper. Complete with illustrative slides, Bennett charts her obsession with figure skaters Torvill and Dean alongside her catastrophe-prone quest to become famous enough to appear on Dancing on Ice and be mentored by her heroes. A natural entertainer (she was once a Butlins Redcoat, no less), Bennett is at ease in front of an audience and when the material falls short there’s always her manner to enjoy; although, at times she seems to have too much to say and loses comic timing in the rush.

Dancing on Thin Ice may or may not be a poignant and desperate story, but it pushes at the boundaries of credibility enough to allow you to keep laughing at the tragedy without feeling downright mean. One to avoid if you can’t hack oversharing, but worth a try if you appreciate a good bit of self-ridicule. (Laura Ennor) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 25 Aug, 8.15pm, £8.50–£11.50 (£7–£10).