Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

Jo Griffin is not the first woman to hit her mid-30s and face endless questions about whether she will have children. And although she lives way too much in the moment for this to trigger any serious navel-gazing, it is the inspiration for this early-midlife stocktake.

She starts by casting her mind back to her own feckless youth, the image of the cringe-inducing outfits she used to wear to go clubbing all the funner for being described rather than shown in some cheesy throwback picture.

But she’s not ready to put her party days behind her – Last Chance Saloon is full of references to her nights out at North London warehouse superclub Drumsheds. Indeed, as middle-age comes knocking ever-louder she’s vowed to say ‘yes’ to even more new experiences. 

Seizing life so enthusiastically gives her a buzz she instinctually imparts to the audience. Refreshingly upbeat, she exudes a wonderfully infectious, cheeky and flirty joi de vivre. Meanwhile, the authenticity of her material is compelling as she overshares with a zero-fucks-given attitude. 

Without making a big deal of it, she’s a very physically expressive stand-up, too. An act-out of a Colombian drug gang shootout is an explicit example of this, but it’s woven into her performance throughout

While she’s sex-positive, she’s also fully aware how ridiculous she would be at an orgy, with the threesome she did embark upon proving tediously mundane, amusingly so in retrospect. She’s even upbeat about this experience, although ultimately, she’s less passionate about a sex party than she is about Haringey Council’s policy on food recycling bins.

Though settling down to a certain extent, she can’t make a viable five-year raise-a-family plan like her North London suburbanite neighbours following their heteronormative (a word she loves using) lives. She’s instead slightly jealous of Gen-Z for their carefree existences, while   constantly teasing them.

She’s not just sex-positive but everything positive. Even things she sees as possible downsides in her life, such as her poor choice of men on Tinder, are discussed with dizzy enthusiasm.

That vivacity could benefit from focus now and then, and there are sections when Griffin’s compelling presence as a performer glosses over more workaday writing, such as a strained analogy between Bitcoin and babies, to cite just one example.

In a Sagrada Familia of towering contrivance, she shoves every reference of the past 50 minutes into a mad, convoluted fantasy to wrap up the show. But whatever its flaws, this routine – like so much here – is 100 per cent sold on the straight of her electric personality, and everyone leaves giddily happy. 

The motherhood question has pretty much been forgotten, but who cares when you’re having such a good time – which serves as a motto for Griffin’s carpe diem life, too.

Review date: 2 Aug 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Assembly George Square