James Acaster: Cold Lasagne Hate Myself 1999
Tuesday May 15 – Saturday May 19 (7.00pm)
It’s getting harder to review comedy – and I don’t just mean for me, since I don’t go out to it as often as I once did. I’m not bemoaning a lack of match fitness. The rules have changed, the goal posts have shifted. A comic’s worst nightmare is no longer a critic – if it ever was? – it’s the dumb hecklers, it’s Twitter, it’s cellphone-grabs. And many international headliners require phones off and locked in a bag – and hey, that’s fine. It was bad enough when your workmate would try to re-tell the joke at the water-cooler without any of the tone or technique but now a quick vertical-video with shaky sound might almost give the right tone but ultimately the wrong impression.
I’ve seen James Acaster before – and he’s fantastic and among the hardest comics to review. His shows are a journey – and to hint at what’s to happen beyond marking him up for being funny (his job) is to spoil the mood and to fuck up his game. It’s not only not fair, you don’t come out of it looking good, piggybacking on his wit and wisdom.
No spoilers here. Not even a review (just to be safe). Take this – if you need it, or want it – as a recommendation. He’s one of the best comics I’ve seen. And I can say that about his return trips now too. A class act.