Reviews Archive
The Reviews Archive from 1997.

Interviews
Interviews with stand-up stars.

Reviews Archive June - July 2001

THE GREAT debate on which is London's worst comedy club rolls on and on.

Some say it is the Pear-shaped or even the eccentric Joe's Comedy Madhouse or one of the countless, almost-unknown try-out nights run by new acts that plumb the depths.

But one name comes up again and again: the Purple Turtle.

It is certainly true that this Monday night try-out night in a bikers' bar in Islington was once virtually unplayable.

Bike gang members would throw ashtrays at the performers; acts could be threatened with physical violence.

But since Paddy Bramwells took over the MC-ing, it has improved to some degree.

When he's on form, Paddy is a goodish act and an excellent compere, and he says he's managed to drive out the worst of the trouble-makers at the Turtle to give the comedians a sporting chance of success.

You see, the Purple Turtle is like the spaceport bar in Star Wars - fulls of geeks, weirdos and mutants. If someone with two heads walked in, no one would give him a second glance.

All of which makes it an interesting experience for the acts who tend to be greener than grass.

On a blisteringly-hot night in late July, the standard was decidedly poor.

Brad - or Bradley - had a few funny lines and a passable presence but failed to really get the audience going.

Barry Kelly - a middle-aged bloke with kids - was pretty mainstream, showing only a glint of alternative promise.

Clive Kildour lasted only a couple of unintelligible minutes, before running off stage.

And superwimp Calvin Sharpe did not make enough of his looks to win laughs.

By this point, compere Bramwells was really struggling - it was as if the low quality of the fare had knocked the stuffing out of him. He was dying on stage and even struggling to remember the names of the act he was introducing next.

After the interval, it didn't get much better.

Peter Wood combined poor material with lacklustre performance, and Matthew Temple's Jeffrey Archer impression (his entire act) was sick rather than funny.

Strange but unamusing Simon Ring proved that rambling on about your day job isn't funny, even if you claim to be a lavatory attendant at Harrod's.

However, Ring's performance was so bad, his act was actually the most memorable.

By this stage of the evening, Paddy had completely lost the plot and was very lucky not to be punched by a homeless person who he'd insulted through the open door of the pub.

It was gig's only really fascinating moment as the man approached the stage with scared Bramwells desperately apologising for his behaviour to avoid a good thrashing.

The final act, surreal punster Gary Delaney, was probably the only one on the bill with any real talent.

But his performance was upset by a crazy person/alleged try-out in the audience who kept shouting out song lyrics and stupid comments.

Despite being a scripted one-liner merchant, Delaney bravely took him on, with the help of audience members who shouted down the idiot.

It was an anarchic end to a chaolic evening, which had more to do with voyeurism than comedy.

So is the Purple Turtle really London's worst comedy club? Yes, I am afraid it probably is!

STAR RATING (out of five): *

Chris Wilson

July 2001 issue


Comic Discipline, Camden Head, London N1



THIS SADISTIC comedy game show instantly makes a visual impact when you enter the Camden Head's top room which has been bedecked in red and black drapes, S & M posters and the equipment of torture.

Mistress O - the comedienne Karen O - holds court surrounded by an array of weirdos: her gimp on a leash and in full head mask and black bondage gear (played by Danny Hurst); the ancient butler Bentley; a Third Reich pianist and diminutive female assistant Pandora who looks rather like a permed poodle.

On this occasion, the contestants in the comedy dungeon were stand-up and former Teletubby Dave Thompson, surreal storyteller Paul Foot and Jeremy O'Donnell, apparently 'the returning champion'.

Their performances were mixed.

Thompson had, perhaps, put most thought into what he was going to do on stage, creating a nerdy comedy persona in old college tie, dowdy jacket and slacks.

His replies were the most amusing, although towards the end of evening he became rather too scatological for my liking.

Paul Foot took his usual camp and surreal persona into this context and also did well.

While unfortunately the eventual winner of the night, Jeremy O'Donnell, wasn't very funny at all.

The real stars of the show were Mistress O and her team.

They looked comfortable and relaxed, and the old crone Bentley tended to come up with a better quality of quip than the comedy contestants.

It's great to see a promoter put some real effort into a show. All too often these days, you see small clubs without so much as a microphone.

But in his venture, Karen O has worked on and invested in a concept that both is refreshing to the eye and, potentially, very funny.

Comic Discipline, which is now turning weekly and moving to Wednesday nights, richly deserves success.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Ollie Wilson

June 2001 issue


Driscoll & Message at The Canal Cafe Theatre, Delamere Terrace W2



THIS HAS to be the most deranged comedy show I've ever seen!

The premise is that two talentless wannabes make a desperate final attempt for fame by hosting their own tacky satellite TV show.

The Tasmanian characters hosting the show - Rita the Maneater and Kylie - are played by Steve Message and Julie Driscoll.

Rita is an alcoholic transsexual who dresses like Margarita Pracatan (imagine Johnny Vaughan in drag) and Kylie is a washed-up 1980s pop sensation (Sound familiar?)

They showcase a number of guests in their so-called Mobile Video Lounge which actually gives them an opportunity to run through a plethora of characters and demonstrate their knack for doing flawless accents.

We are introduced to the Brummie National Express driver who resorts to extreme measures for keeping his passengers in order and the girl who believes she could be National Express Hostess of the Year if only she had bigger breasts.

And we meet the country-singing trailer park trash who try to make a living from their daughters vocal talents, who they keep in a trolley suitcase: their intimation that they voted for Dudya Bush indicates their mentality.

They are followed by a deranged Welsh Couple who are lost in London trying to find the Key Collector's Convention.

Lastly, a boy-girl Irish pop band who run a fish and chip shop during the day, take to the stage.

The incestuous pair insist their style of pop is a cross between Eminem and The Corrs. This gives Message an opportunity to enact some Rapstar posturing, which brings the house down.

All this, and some near-guest appearances from famous celebrities too.

There is no doubt that they are talented performers, Driscoll has a fine singing voice and the characters are well observed and well acted.

However, the script lacks bite, and apart from the finale, needs more comic surprises. This may be due to there being too many characters, which havenít been developed fully.

Mostly, one wishes that the hapless character of Kylie would at least get one over Rita the Maneater and his bullying attentions.

Bearing in mind this is still a work-in-progress show, I'm sure this will improve by the time it reaches Edinburgh.

STAR RATING (out of five): ***

Ivan de Mello

June 2001 issue

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