Review by Marissa Burgess

Now no longer, sadly, writing his Dad Rules column in the Style section of the Sunday Times – that and the divine Mrs Mills were the only bits worth reading – Clover has withdrawn focus from his children to concentrate on his relationship with his wife Livy. And so his show this year discusses love and how the hell do you make it last when it’s at the mercy of the kids, work and perennial arguments about who should put out the bins.

Clover bounds on stage, flamboyantly camp in grey suit teamed with peach shirt and shocking pink tie and acknowledges that he does have the stereotypical demeanour of a bloke that would be more likely to living with another fella rather than a woman. But no, he’s here to impart his what he has learned from the long-term cohabitation, and in turn learn from members of the audience, particularly the older and wiser members such as the couple that have been together for 43 years.

Like his column, the show is full of frank material that makes you wonder what trouble he’ll find himself in when he gets home. Tonight in particular too much information regarding his wife and oral sex could see him sleeping in the spare room (again).

It’s no surprise to learn that Clover is a former actor, he hams it up left, right and centre, flinging himself about the stage and gurning at his crowd. Plus there’s much drama invested in the four monologues he recites – written in a manner not unlike his columns. Each one begins with a spotlight and an introduction that pinpoints when the end of the section will be, introducing each one with ‘and this one ends with the line….’ It’s a pleasing motif that’s gives a sense of rolling towards a satisfying conclusion.

As a writer used to penning a weekly column, Clover is, unsurprisingly, a skilled wordsmith but he also handles the humour with equal talent. He crafts a nice turn of phrase and his enthusiasm is, quite simply, infectious.

Review date: 23 Aug 2010
Reviewed by: Marissa Burgess