The most remarkable thing about Alistair Barrie’s latest stand up set, Urban Fogey, is just how unremarkable it is. If you were to look up mediocre in the dictionary, there’d be a flyer for this show stapled over the definition. Less urban and more suburban, at least Fogey seems a suitable description of the safest hour of entertainment this side of a heavily cushioned children’s party.
There’s a wacky, screwball flavour to Barrie’s delivery, which in itself is always good and often better. Managing to convey genuine warmth whilst still keeping the audience on its collective toes is something he carries off with aplomb; this is a comedian who clearly revels in his job. It can’t, however, make up for the show’s significant failings.
Right from the opening material, some vaguely amusing gags about empty Olympic seats, through to the climactic grumblings about how awful the Tories are, it’s something of a snorefest. Calling David Cameron a swearword is the antithesis of edgy originality and is there a person alive, comedian or otherwise, who hasn’t done the whole ‘Britain has a hosepipe ban when there’s flood warnings’ shtick? At times it feels like Barrie has just skim read a copy of the Daily Mail and written down all their favourite topics of complaint.
In between all the tedious ‘jokes’ came some much needed audience interaction. Here the comedian fares a lot better; he evidently loves to play a crowd and practically everyone in the audience featured in the set at some point. It’s boisterous and far funnier than anything pre planned, a demonstration of how good Barrie is off the cuff.
Unless you’ve got a particular enthusiasm for tired quips already peddled by a hundred middle of the road comedians, perhaps its best to give Urban Fogey a miss. Whilst there’s a few nuggets of funny nestled in here and there, it hardly makes for hilarity. Barrie has the potential to be great, but here he’s just that man in the pub, boring you to death with what everyone else has been saying for months.
