Twisting one leg around the other in a show of girlish innocence, Pascoes stage presence is that of the coquettish schoolgirl, rambling aimlessly whilst making puppy dog eyes at her latest beau. Her appearance, though, conceals an impeccably sharp wit and a frame of reference that would shame many a more seasoned comic.In this wickedly funny show, we gallop through Nietzsche, Sartre and the Marquis de Sade, by way of Marmite as a Valentines present and a tax-deductible introduction for Mr. Pint of Beer. Such self-conscious kookiness might grate, but Pascoe carries it off with aplomb. This is an intricate show delivered with a pseudo-self-conscious ease: Pascoes artful persona lures the audience into her world, lowering our defences and creating an atmosphere in which she can get away with material that in lesser hands might be regarded as pretension. Her songs, too, are another string to her comedy bow: while they may currently lack a little of the pizzazz that would be required to make them a central part of her routine, a reworking of Lady Gagas Just Dance shows invention and considerable promise.Pascoe is a seriously talented comic, and a very welcome newcomer to the Fringe. This show should be on everyones shortlist, and may just be on that of the judges.
