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ADAM KAY: FINGERING A MINOR ON A PIANO Silly songs with a serious message ●●●●●

ELLIOT STEEL: NETFLIX ‘N’ STEEL Stridently apolitical show about not very much ●●●●● NORRIS & PARKER: SEE YOU AT THE GALLOWS Dark sketches and maniacal characters ●●●●●

In case his show title is putting you off, Adam Kay apologises for it immediately upon taking to the stage. Seems he wanted to scare off Nicholas Parsons' audience. It’s a flimsy excuse for a truly questionable title, but his hour more than gets rid of the bad taste it leaves. This year is medical-themed, with songs, stories and jokes centred on his former career as a doctor. He flips between reading from the diary he kept to track his professional progression while dotted throughout are dark jokes and self-deprecating slights on his competence in gynaecology, and dealing in what he’s best known for: rejuvenated pop songs skirting the dad-joke fringes like ‘Oh Bloody Bladder’ (‘Ob-la-di Ob-la-da’).

His ability to shoehorn medical terminology into well-known songs while remaining actually funny is impressive, and there's more going on beneath the puns and ‘object up the bum’ jokes. Kay's reveal about why he gave up his medical career is sobering and his monologue on Jeremy Hunt and junior doctors means you'll leave feeling provoked, angry and eager for change. (Kirstyn Smith) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 29 Aug (not 17, 24), 6.40pm, £13–£14 (£12–£13).

As he freely admits himself, a critic rather rashly described Elliot Steel as ‘the voice of his generation’. Up until two years ago, all he really cared about was ‘wanking and Hollister’, and now at the age of 19, his stand-up continues to be a celebration of the largely inconsequential. He admits to never picking up a book, while the knowledge he might take from watching documentaries on Netflix are most likely lost in a drugged-up fug. When social not-niceties land in front of Steel, such

as the racist remark which left him cutting short a date (though not before swiping her drink), his noble plan backfires. Possibly as a conscious contrast to his dad Mark, he couldn’t be any less interested in politics and the walk to his nearest voting booth is just too much for a ‘lazy slacker’ like him.

Sketches, characters and a bit of cabaret glitz are taken to the dark side by Norris & Parker in their second hour of morbidity and malaise. Soundtracked on piano by Chris Thomson, the duo build on their queens of black humour reputation after last year’s All Our Friends are Dead. Tongues are firmly planted in cheek from the opening number a rally for feminazis with the intimidating pair in black jumpsuits and German accents to the final song, a tribute to the inevitability of death and futility of life.

Sketches range from a 1980s cop series inspired by Jack the Ripper (Billy the Cannibal who won’t stop eating the town’s women) to the fantastic Jackie Cooper Clarke, a snarling, quick-fire performance poet who rhymes just as well (if not better) than the Salford legend she’s based on.

Steel has a rough-diamond charm and initially The duo’s bickering about the state of their

seems at ease with his material, but that confidence slightly unravels when the laughs he’s expecting don’t arrive. But there’s more than enough here to suggest that Elliot Steel will have better days and years ahead. Whether he’ll be saying anything particularly significant remains to be seen. (Brian Donaldson) Gilded Balloon at the Counting House, 622 6552, until 28 Aug, 6.15pm, £6 or Pay What You Want. relationship (Parker is neurotic and overly invested; Norris is harsh and ‘business partners only’) prods at the complexities of female friendships without shoving it down your throat. This subtlety, thankfully, is kept to a minimum, as Norris & Parker are at their best when they’re loud, rampant and maniacal. (Kirstyn Smith) Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 21), 10.45pm, £7.50–£9.50 (£7–£8.50).

ZOE COOMBS MARR: TRIGGER WARNING Postmodern tour de force and vibrant assault on misogyny ●●●●●

Australian comedian Zoe Coombs Marr first brought her oafish alter ego Dave to last year’s Fringe. Created in response to poor comedy in general and misogynistic stand-up in particular, Dave is a vulgar concoction who spews offensive jokes at his audience. It’s very clear from the off that he’s an over-the-top character portrayed by a woman in drag, although Coombs Marr claims she’s previously suffered walk-outs from audience members taken in by the act.

In Trigger Warning, Dave starts with his offensive shtick as usual before suddenly claiming that, following a tête-à-tête on Twitter with a group of ‘feminazis’, he’s decided to put that sort of behaviour behind him, claiming he’s now a changed man. This about-turn is the first of several surprising twists as Trigger Warning starts to unravel in interesting and unexpected directions. Dave renounces stand-up comedy and tries his hand at mime, claiming to have recently studied at the Gaulier clown school. And at various points he turns into Zoe, a thirtysomething lesbian comedian.

As Dave (or is it Zoe?) further folds in on himself, the show

turns into a deconstruction of ego before the comedian makes explicit reference to Christopher Nolan’s dreams-within- dreams film Inception. Coombs Marr’s postmodern matryoshka doll of a show is spellbinding and intricately crafted.

Not everyone will get the joke, and from the outset elaborate call-backs are set up which, in the context of Dave’s bad stand-up act, appear to be throwaway gags. Coombs Marr has done the unexpected with her odious creation and through a committed performance she makes him part of something very special indeed. (Murray Robertson) Underbelly Cowgate, 0844 545 8252, until 28 Aug (not 15), 6.50pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).

11–18 Aug 2016 THE LIST FESTIVAL 55

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