While there are many other comics performing in Edinburgh who broke through at a similar time to Frank Skinner, it is Skinner’s show that seems to have aged the most.
Perhaps it is the venue, a venue that looks like a working men’s club with round tables and its own bar, Skinner performing on a small stage, but more likely it is the material.
He talks of sharing a room with a gay member of a film crew and says how he wasn’t worried because there were five other people in the room that could hold the gay colleague back before going on to describe his ‘gay’ snoring.
He admits to not having done stand up for ten years and this shows. His punchlines are telegraphed and his delivery tired. It’s like watching a clip from The Comedians, except nobody’s smoking or racist.
While some material about him being 50 is admittedly good, his final 15 minutes (at least) on how he has started viewing pornography featuring the, ahem, more mature ladies is just uncomfortable. It goes on so long, it’s like a sales pitch and at its heart is the rather disturbing thought that he does actually ‘use’ this granny porn.
Worse, he rambles his way through it. A story about him trying to impress women while speed-dating in Canada by talking about his wealth is only rescued when a punter finishes the story with a gag better than Skinner’s own. When that happens, you know the show’s over.
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