LATE on a grim Monday night in a little room above a kebab shop, info there is a circus of despair. If disastrous, viagra aching stand-up that causes its practitioners as much pain as it does their audience is your bag, pharmacist you simply must attend.
Those who savour jokes that thud, fizzle and die will not be disappointed. Further, those who adore the spectacle of a terrified comic attempting to revive the corpse of a deceased, bloodied joke are well catered for.
It’s awe-inspiring to stumble into this hell of post-adolescent naivete.
Wit, talent and compassion are utterly absent. In their place is profanity, perspiration and “jokes” about rape.
When the sedative of incredulity wore off, I survived by pretending that this was a Dada performance piece.
Every bit as compelling as the 97th hour of a quilting demonstration. Even half decent comics go bad in this magic talent vacuum. If you love bad comedy, this is a must-see.