On Rob Brydon Live

[angelophile]

So, last night I went and saw Rob Brydon live. For the colonials amongst you Rob's a Welsh actor, writer, comedian, radio and TV presenter and impressionist. And voice over artist (he worked many of his most "famous" ad voiceovers into a hilarious routine). Oh, and chart topper. (Okay, with a comedy cover of Islands in the Stream for Comic Relief, but it still counts.)

All in all it was an hysterical couple of hours of freewheeling knockabout comedy, blending traditional standup with anecdotal tracts (a section describing the home birth of his fourth child was particularly memorable), some music (including that cover of Islands in the Stream as an encore) and an awful lot of improvised back-and-forth with the audience.

In fact, the improvised stuff seemed to take up most of the two hours. While there were clearly scripted moments, the majority of the evening was based around banter with the audience, culminating in an improvised song about all the people he'd chatted with during the course of the night, including Greg, the self employed hog roaster ("Have hog, will travel"). He belongs in that rare group of comedians (like Eric Morecambe) who are just naturally funny and while his scripted routines undoubtedly had their moments, it was the off-the-cuff audience interaction that provided the real gold.

For this reason, the show felt like a genuine, never-to-be-repeated event. Be it the jabs at the lazy fireman who refused to use the pole and took the stairs, the vet who turned out to be an animal pathologist or the old-before-his-time furniture dealer. All too often going to see a comedian live is a disappointing even as they trawl out the same routine they did on that live DVD you own, with no variation. With the bulk of the show being improvised banter, you know if you went to see Brydon next week it'd be something completely different (possibly because he wouldn't be out of his mind on cold remedies).

There was also room for a few on-the-money impressions of Ronnie Corbett, Rolf Harris, Bruce Forsyth and, memorably, Al Pacino reading The Gruffalo (probably the highlight of the evening for me - "What... the FUCK... IS A GRUFFALO?"). Along with a few swipes at friend Steve Coogan.

The support act, Hal Cruttenden, was no slouch either, treating the audience to a very funny routine on how hard life can be for a terribly camp straight man.

A great evening in all.