Review of the final

The comedy circuit may be ridiculously oversubscribed, with far more stand-ups than gigs (or at least paying ones), but that doesn’t stop hopefuls applying for new act competitions in their hundreds each year.

Leicester Square Theatre’s quest for its new comedian of 2024 was no exception, with 14 up-and-coming comics making it through to the final.

That opening act Abbie Edwards stuck in the mind after 13 other comedians had followed her speaks to the strength of her material. Rocking something of a nerdcore look, she admits to social and, especially, sexual reticence which she ascribes to guilt held over from her religious education.

But on stage she absolutely owns her chaste awkwardness, thanks to her disarming honesty about topics such as just how late she lost her virginity, and the forbidden frisson of the slightest human contact. Plus there’s a delicious twist in the tale of how her upbringing made her so abstinent. 

There’s a lot of beta-personality stand-ups around, but Edwards has an original and compelling take on it, and went home with the £250 third prize.

In complete contrast, American comic Tevin Everett is far from being the coy type. He’s got slightly laddish tendencies, albeit tempered by charm, exemplified by him asserting: ‘I feel like I have to be faithful’ to his girlfriend, as if it was a chore. 

His set covers a couple of public transport mishaps and, more edgily, his father’s dementia – which is not covered with much sympathy, but used as a trigger for many jokes about forgetfulness. Don’t come here for depth or subtlety, but he’s an effective comedian with a robust delivery.

Also slick was the stylishly-clad Monica Hsueh, inviting us to appreciate her patterned loose suit which she admits makes her look ‘annoying’. When it comes to material of the comedic variety, she leans heavily on stereotypes, from Westerners unable – or unwilling – to distinguish between various Asian ethnicities, or how a Taiwanese woman like her is all-too often mistaken for the nanny.

It was nicely executed and efficiently written, so it’d be nice to see her push beyond these relatively straightforward jokes about ethnicity to reveal more about herself, or her comic sensibilities.

In an even more distinctive fashion statement, Lianna Holston takes to the stage in a pink-and-white jumpsuit which, combined with her Titian curls, gives her a kooky appearance. Yet that image is undermined by an inscrutably controlled, deadpan demeanour and placid delivery, slowly delivering a story that builds up in its self-deprecating stupidity at every turn without every acknowledging the inherent humour.

Her storytelling chops are akin to David Sedaris, which is clearly no bad thing, as she imperceptibly draws you in to her offbeat world. And anyone who unapologetically uses a Pre-Raphaelite oil painting as her ‘who I look like’ reference point is clearly forging her own path.

Other comics got more laughs per minute tonight than Holston did, but none painted their peculiar worldview anywhere near as skilfully. She’s a comic you’d definitely want to hear more from, and placed second – with a £500 prize – tonight.

Talking of distinctive looks, how to describe John Pape? Like Matt Berry if he was a washed-up cruise ship magician, maybe. He has the voice of an X-Factor announcer and is dressed in black, save for a medallion the size of a dinner plate and a gold braided waistcoat, his hair and beard peaked in opposite directions.

Unfortunately, the material could not match the look, and his tall stories of being sacked from a Christian radio station for saying inappropriate things were neither convincing nor funny enough to suspend disbelief. But that booming delivery… he might not have the greatest material, but his look and demeanour all made him one of the acts the audience will remember the longest.

Irish comic Rob Moriarty had the tough job of following that, and his softer, more skittish conversational style, full of ‘c’mon nows’ and ‘easy does its’ was certainly in contrast to Pape’s, if nowhere near as effective. He’s a charmer, mind, with his impish approach to crude content.

But the material lets him down. He sets up his main section as being about how he contracted HIV, teeing up a story you expect to be full of honesty and heft. But in fact it’s just a series of cheap bait-and-switch sex gags, both feeble and detached from any truth. 

Eli Hart wears glum disappointment with pride, with a downbeat deadpan that suits his West Midlands accent so well. Self-effacing and wearily dismissive about anything life throws his way, grumbling about minor issues burnishing the image he portrays of himself as lazy and slobbish. 

Covering common topics such as wanking and dating apps, the jaded demeanour is stronger than the material, but he’s come on leaps in the six months since I last saw him.

Opening the second half, Rohan Sharma had fun bating the racists in the room. Not that anyone identified themselves as such, but he mischievously winkled them out with some funny PowerPoint games. He also turned a longstanding stereotype on its head by professing a love for bland English food…

There’s a lot of silliness behind this, sometimes seeming to channel a bit of Sam Campbell’s oddness in his slides and non-sequiturs. It’s delivered confidently, with the AV element not seeming too gimmicky. Sharma won a strong reaction from the audience and the judges – myself included – who awarded him the first prize, taking home £1,000 and an angling trophy for some reason, just to make it offishial.

Interestingly, it took until this late in the running order until we came to a comic who put his neurodiversity at the centre of his act – is the tide of stand-ups explicitly  defining themselves by their diagnoses turning? 

Ibs Sesay has dyslexia, dyspraxia and visual stress (which causes discomfort when looking at certain patterns) all of which he calls a superpower, although he didn’t delve too deeply into it. In fact, his short set errs on the side of superficiality, though he’s good company.  And his performing arts degree shows through in a commanding delivery, dipping liberally into accents when required. 

Mark Moloney, too, kept things shallow, focussing the lion’s share of his set on one aspect of his identity: being bald. Treating this as a matter of utmost significance, which not everyone will be on board with, he’s got lots of gags on the subject of varying standards, though the best – a visual joke - is memorable.

Elsewhere he plays up the part of the weirdo in the gym and elsewhere, in scenarios that are clearly never designed to be taken at face value. Meanwhile, his deadpan makes him a little reminiscent of Norman Lovett, especially clad all in black 

Back to the neurodiversity with Jack Henry covering his OCD, anxiety and depression in a set that is a LOT more honest than Moloney’s. 

He likes nothing more than a bit of blue, with plenty of detail about being a ‘practising homosexual’ delivered in soft, vulnerable voice that belies the vulgarity. Certainly his graphic closing story, about anal reconstruction surgery, evokes more grimaces than laughs.

Sascha LO’s dilemma is making her unlikeable alter-ego likeable. She’s a horribly privileged trustafarian type, self-centred and oblivious, parodying the worst of Gen Z’s tendencies to make it all about them. A bit like Leo Reich’s attention-grabbing performances.

There are some great lines in LO’s set, so even though she hasn’t quite found the sweet spot between being awful and acknowledging this is a character (without breaking the spell), her writing shines through.

Gentl- spoken Laura Walsh draws on her corporate background in advertising with wry jokes about LinkedIn and  some suggested campaigns. She was perhaps a bit too low-key for such a late slot on a packed bill, though her more whimsical trains of thought are appealingly offbeat, such as pondering what really would be her worst nightmare.

Finally, Gabrielle MacPherson, a belligerent Cheshire lass who fully leans into North-South archetypes in a punchy, energetic set, hating on both sides of the geographical and class divide. The pace is breathless – which provides energy but doesn’t give the material much space, blowing the illusion that the set isn’t scripted. But her ‘sod the lot of you’ attitude is definitely a winner.

Review date: 10 Dec 2024
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Leicester Square Theatre