Not while the manager’s in...
A packed night at the Malarkey brought the award-winning club back to the peak of its game.
First up on Tuesday was the man that writes more material than is healthy, Greg Cook.
A very new comic but definitely one to watch for the future. The material is brilliant with only a few weak spots. Quirky story telling with enough surprises to keep you on your toes, and his deadpan delivery has improved ten-fold since the last Malarkey gig. It was much quicker which is exactly what the audience ordered.
Next up was Claire Pollard.
Claire’s amenable persona and cheeky stage presence belies some cutting material. 9/11 being reality TV was the gag of the night for me. Just brilliant. The rest of the setwasn’t so strong but the potential is there.
Cheeky chappie and Tony Blair lookalike Matt "how old do I look?" Kirshen was next up.
A brilliant start to the set. Full of energy and the delivery has come on a long way since I last saw him at Bar 41.
Towards the tale end of the set Matt lost his way completely and forgot where he was going with it. A mental blank that he dealt with very well and managed to turn it around to a rousing finish.
Mike Landers was next to take to the all-new malarkey stage and had a slightly quiet one.
The material is there, but the delivery wasn’t quite up to the job on Tuesday. The crowd didn’t seem to take to what Mike was saying and that seemed to feed back, stunting the performance further.
By other open spots standard, it was a good set, but I know Mike can do much better. He has stopped fiddling with his hair though which can only be a good thing.
Owen Rankin's set was one of two halves.
The first part was okay, but his timing didn't seem to be there and the character wasn't as convincing as it usually is. Then he got heckled and it went fantastically fromthere. Quality banter andsome appalling mental images of Owen and a guy from the audience, spit-roasting his mum.
The night was rounded of in brilliant style by the chaotic, unpredictable nice guy that is Martin Bigpig.
Juggling full ashtrays, benches, smashing pint pots, burning ties, making microphone stand people. The only thing you can predict about Mr Bigpig is the hilarity.
Toby was on fine form, and we seem to have overcome the "Oooh, new paint job, the atmosphere isn't as good..." thing. By 10pm we had to stop letting people in.
So come early next week!