Last year, Mark Thomas won plaudits for starring in England And Son, a play written specially for him. But it did not prove to be a cash cow, which is why we find him back on his stand-up soapbox, furiously raging at the despicable Tories again.
That they are out is only small succour. His opening joke is that he has waited 14 long years for this moment: that he can finally call a Labour government a bunch of ‘wankers’.
He doesn’t expand on that a huge amount at the moment, but give him time – and there’s still plenty of bile about the Conservatives to be vented, with floridly insulting descriptions of his enemies and the odd limerick about the likes of Suella Braverman and Jacob Rees-Mogg.
It’s not all base insults – though they are the fun bits – as the comic also puts together cogent, passionate arguments about what’s gone wrong, identifying a ‘democratic deficit’, in which no one supposedly in power is ever held responsible.
That the Tories had 16 housing ministers in their time in power is a relatively well-known fact – more eye-opening is just how long it has been since a Prime Minister who won their place at an election was also ousted at the ballot box, by the people rather than their own party.
Generally, though, Thomas’s comedy is less about unique insight than distilling what we know into little balls of rage, eloquently expressed and delivered with fervour.
He takes Rishi Sunak’s D-Day snub as a personal affront to those who fought, not just a massive political miscalculation; has an idea as to how to ensure billionaires pay more taxes; and gives the shortest of shrifts to the notion that the far-right rioters were just ‘concerned citizens’, describing what parochial protest that phrase normally entails. While savaging the likes of Nigel Farage, the pugnacious comedian argues that it’s poverty that drives people towards such toxicity from a place of desperation.
Entering into the realm of reproductive rights, Thomas shares what the Bible really says about abortion before heading into the more absurd ground with all the daft things Leviticus bans. It’s something of a comedy staple, but again, it is expertly told.
As he delivers in his mile-a-minute way, he affects a spontaneity that the next stage in his story or argument has only just occurred to him in a finger-snap moment, even though the routines are, in truth, meticulously constructed. He’s been in this game 39 years, and you can’t fault his punchy cadence and performance as tight as the metaphorical drum he bangs.
Away from politics, he shares his love for fan-owned football club, AFC Wimbledon, both for their chants – so gloriously aware of how terrible they are – and for showing the power of what ordinary people can do if they unite for a cause.
He only occasionally ventures into the personal, mentioning that at 61 he’s found love, against his own expectation, and talking about his violent father, whom he’s previously made a whole show about and whose sideline as a preacher surely inspired the comic’s style. These moments are a lovely contrast to the political rants, and could probably benefit from being expanded, just to take our minds off the terrible politicians for a while.
A coda treating us to a short barrage of one-liners to back up his claim that he coud play the cruise ships, but just chooses not to, fulfils a similar function. Though you have to enjoy the mental image of a room full of genteel blue-rinses being subjected to the comic’s spittle-flecked vitriol.
Thomas is doing exactly what he’s known for doing and not, in this instance, pushing the envelope much. But even base-level Thomas is better than many comedians at their finest. And as for inevitable, not entirely unjustified, criticism of preaching to the choir, he’s making fellow travellers know they are part of a broader consensus, and ideally inspiring them to do something about it.
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