Review by Steve Bennett

Don’t judge a show by its opener.

Liam Hourican’s Edinburgh debut begins with a pretty cliched sketch. The President of Ireland is welcomed to the Palace of Westminster to address both Houses of Parliament and the Queen. And who should swagger on to such an auspicious stage but a rough-arsed tinker in a grubby string vest, spoiling for a fight?

Yet it turns out there’s a lot more nuance and originality in the hour than this scene suggests, as Hourican explores the rags-to-rags backstory of the pikey politico, Mick Connor, a character a small minority may recall from Hourican’s 2010 Channel 4 pilot iCandy. Essentially there are only two or three gags at the heart of the whole plot, with the occasional jolly excursion off-topic, but it all plays out entertainingly as he wrings the most from each idea.

Connor had always been a brawler, and the main gag has him looking for the next punch-up like anyone else might seek a lover. He wants a committed feud, not a one-night slug. As ever-increasing love/hate parallels are drawn, we segue into a short film that would resemble a romcom directed by Guy Ritchie in his Snatch phase. Anyway, Connor’s aggression lands him in jail where the intervention of Ramsey Behind Bars attempts to set him on the straight and narrow.

Celebrity impersonation is a particular forte of Hourican’s and several stars become wonderfully ridiculous caricatures here. The Irish comic captures their physical and verbal mannerisms brilliantly, reinterpreting them in an exaggerated and rougher-around-the-edges way that makes them all the funnier. The Ramsey alter-ego, however, milks the short-tempered chef’s well-known traits rather too much. Some in the audience love the way Hourican relentlessly drives away at the gag, but for me the filmed Kitchen Nightmare parody couldn’t be bettered, and the rest just padding.

I won’t spoil the surprise by revealing who else he mimics, but the results are executed with a joyful, spirited naughtiness. Away from the celebs, some other scenes seem underdeveloped, with a script that doesn’t mind an obvious, cheap joke. But there are also little gems, such as the short Ryanair skit that finds a new way to mock the usually hack comedy topic.

Although this is billed as Hourican’s show, his oppo, Jim Roche, does sterling work too as a stooge who can mix eye-popping cartoon with a undertow of pathos, providing a more human foil to Hourican’s cartoons.

In all, it’s a decent romp, as inconsistent as prison slop, perhaps, but with some splendid moments.

Review date: 5 Aug 2014
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Just The Tonic at The Caves