Review by Jay Richardson

One of the issues of writing a personal show about the big, universal theme of love is that the audiences crave profundity and original insight rather than just serviceable stand-up. Hardeep Singh Kohli has been touring this show for a year and isn't helped in storytelling terms by the fact that he's subsequently split from the woman he wrote it for.

She remains distinct in the retelling from his ex-wife and his current amour. But alas, like most matters of the heart, it's all a bit messy and unresolved. And temporally, the show jumps around in ways that don't serve its clarity.

Taking the stage while singing along to the Bee Gees' eponymous(ish) hit of his title, it's such a good pun that one forgives Kohli recycling it from his old Scotland on Sunday column.

Besides, he claims that mishearing it in his adolescence on Top of the Pops offered him a rare moment of affirmation. Growing up, there weren't any 'brown' role models for him in British popular culture, no romantic leads to aspire to, while his Indian parents were never affectionate in front of him.

Suddenly divorced at 38, after marrying at 21, he found himself lost and worrying that he'd exhausted his capacity to be loved. So naturally, just at the moment he stopped looking, he found someone he cared about deeply, though with the disclaimer that she was significantly younger.

This prompts what I presume to be the show's original core, a sequence of observations on the generation gap and gender differences in and out of the bedroom. From painting himself as a naïve ingénue in matters of romance, Kohli now adopts the tone of a sage observer of sexuality.

There's nothing earth-movingly original in his conclusions but he relates them with honesty and self-awareness, his account of a lover's tiff escalating out of a throwaway remark all too believable. At the same time, he rather poetically affords the instant of 'little death' a dignified majesty and cultural and historical significance, in stark contrast to the grunting, animalistic noises he shares in recreating the act at its most carnal.

At this point in the preview I saw, he was delving into the nitty-gritty of the doomed relationship when a mobile phone went off in the crowd. So in time-honoured fashion, he embarrassed the recipient by returning the call, whipping up a chorus of Flower of Scotland for the offender's husband's voicemail.

Unfortunately, he followed this with the tale of a similar incident at a previous show that had nothing to do with his current one, an acceptable diversion in itself. Not though, when paired with a series of hackneyed observations on how changing phone technology has altered relationships, which he could at least relate to his romantic theme.

The result was increased engagement with the crowd, capably established from the start and nurtured through consistent recourse to individuals for reassurance, at the expense of his story's development.

Closing perfunctorily, he offered a heart-warming but cutting account of a friend taking revenge on a chauvinist she encountered on a specialist dating website. Amusing enough and with a memorable pay-off, the second-hand nature nevertheless robbed Hardeep Is Your Love of any worthwhile conclusion. Hopefully, he'll contrive a happier, more personalised ending soon.

Review date: 1 Aug 2014
Reviewed by: Jay Richardson
Reviewed at: Pleasance Dome