Review of the climax to the inaugural competition

Virtually every open-spot comedy promoter runs a new act competition, and newcomers Comedy Tonight – who run a weekly gig in Hammersmith, West London, are no exception. 

However, their inaugural final also included a couple of still-emerging acts a rung or two above the newbies.  Opener Su Mi has a split personality, aggressively hollering at the audience, initially in a shark mask, in an emphatic rejection of the stereotype of the demure and submissive Asian woman, but also leading much softer singalongs, such as the gently nostalgic paean to the 1990s. 

Switching between the two approaches prove effective in short bursts, especially when it comes to injecting some loud energy into the room to get the gig going, but she might have to pick one of the styles over a longer set where the gear-change will lose its potency.

However, it was the rookies we were here to see, starting with Alvin Liu, another act challenging Asian archetypes – by enthusiastically, if sarcastically, leaning into them. As a Chinese comic, he sings the praises of propaganda in education and speaks of the benefits of child labour. Even a comment intended as racist, he’s forced to confess, had a point. 

He doesn’t drill too much into any of this, either in analysis or in the comedy, and his tone could be more animated – but they are solid gags, effectively delivered.

Livewire Ibs Sesay is also guilty of superficiality. We had no time to process what he meant by calling himself a ‘part-time Muslim’ meant before he was on to his dyslexia, dyspraxia and visual stress – a term not everyone will be aware of. And the chunk taking delight in the way Geordies say the word ‘knickers’ was greatly diminished by him not mimicking the pronunciation. 

He’s stronger when toying with the audience discomfort provoked by some of the language he uses around race, successfully exploiting a naturally playful nature that has much promise.

Mollie Ehrman was the only act of the night who bombed, with a confused and slight routine that mentioned lots of overfamiliar tropes such as Americans liking guns and men being slobs without turning them into jokes. 

A bit about short blokes seemed mean without having a point, unclear if she meant it or whether her pettiness was the butt of the joke, and she laid into ‘ethical non-monogamy’ without explaining it, let alone why she was so against it.  A mess, all round.

With his opening line – ‘cats are mugging me off’ –  Louis McClean did more to establish his persona than Ehrman did in her whole set. He’s a no-nonsense working-class Londoner easily wound up, especially by anything poncy

It’s a winning attitude, and he’s an efficient writer and craftsman so even when his observations tend towards the obvious, such as his thoughts on seeing a ‘no jumping’ sign at a suicide hotspot, his timing and use of words elevates them.

As a Nigerian Irishman, Shawn Uyosa has received his fair share of prejudice, both unconscious and all-too conscious, from those who think he couldn’t be both.

Some of his clapbacks at ignorant behaviour, especially from people who think he must be a thief because he’s black, can be a bit Route One, but there’s something a little more interesting and thoughtful bubbling beneath, which emerges to the surface when he gets his teeth into colonialism jokes later on. He’s not the finished item yet, but plenty of promising signs for the future.

Ella Gonzales, pictured, is much further along the route, with a tight, gag-filled set that showed her to be an impressively strong writer. A zinger about her 5ft 10in height is a perfect icebreaker, which expands into a routine about being hard to abduct that layers punchline upon punchline onto the initial premise – a dark thought defanged by her persistent gags.

Cleverly incorporating fantasies with real-world problems such as he cost-of-living crisis, she’s a classy, creative comic – the only sign of inexperience was her ‘husband’ in one joke becoming a ‘boyfriend’ later on in the set. However she instantly set the benchmark as the one to beat. Indeed, no one in the second half exceeded her and she took the title.

After the interval, Fin Jacobs efficiently and wittily depicted himself as one of life’s losers, a victim of crime, rejected even by animals, let alone humans, and someone for whom delaying orgasm in tantric sex is an impossible ideal. 

Talking through various embarrassments, he displays a clear, if not unique, persona and his best writing carries enough of a surprise to get the laughs. Plus he ended on a bit of physicality that ensures his routine will stick in the mind – as well as securing him the third slot.

Dressed in a Greggs branded vest, Andrew Dipple makes quite the first impression, and has a flurry of gags about his weight to back it up. He’s old-school in his approach, raining down gags – some excellent, some cheesy – to batter down resistance.

Away from the self-deprecating material about his size, he’s on shakier ground. Jokes about anal sex or Prince Andrew are rather crude and charmless – resting purely on the supposed shock value of brining up such topics. But really how many Andrew jokes have we heard? Just because his very name is now a punchline shouldn’t stop comedians from thinking of better ones.

But Dipple’s commitment to the gag, and bulletproof no-nonsense approach is likely to keep him in work. He might not seem the type to naturally trouble award judges, but he came second tonight, rewarding his gag rate if nothing else.

In complete contrast, Holly Ludlow’s stage persona is quiet and giggly, a character full of coy sideways glances that she commits to, even if it can be quite frustrating to hear, especially to start with. She’s in no rush to get to  her punchlines, a couple of which are lost as she under-delivers so much.

She also commits to the premise that while her boyfriend’s about to dump her, she’s busy planning their life together, imagining her future as a yummy mummy. There’s delight in the detail of this character sketch and the delusion at its heart that eventually overcomes misgivings about the performance.

Wes Defoe is more polished, though still not the finished deal. Appealing flourishes, such as dropping some unconvincing slang every time he mentions his Caribbean heritage, contribute to his very engaging presence.

Material-wise, he plays it a bit safe, reminiscing about his schooldays and upbringing - the constant reminders of the dangers of swinging on your chair and the beatings his parents would be all-too willing to administer. All very relatable and dependably amusing, but not so imaginative to take things up a notch.

Finally, Ayla Moore, who feels like the product of an unimaginative comedy course. Full of confidence, her set is robust and funny enough – that faintest of  praise – without ever being that interesting. 

She does jokes about what she looks like, talks about condoms not being sexy, being heckled at another gig - and thinking that the payoff ‘…and that was my dad!’ worth repeating. It’s all a bit formulaic – while adding ‘…er, what?!’ to an observation instead of a real punchline feels lazy. 

Out-of-competition headliner Evaldas Karosas is a far more relatable act, an affable beta male with a creatively detailed description of an ill-fated nightclub visit the cornerstone of his well-put-together, consistently funny set. 

He also shared the cringe factor in hearing his mother speak frankly about sex – a conversation that haunts him to this day – and has a distinctive and funny take on being a perennial member of Generation Rent.  And if you want to see a Lithuanian attempt a Scouse accent – and try to understand it – Karosas is the comic for you.

Review date: 11 Sep 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: The Albany