Diane Spencer does not look like the comedic powerhouse that she really is. She is slender and slight, with large eyes that give her a look of Bambi-esque innocence, but on no account should you let that fool you. This comedienne uses material that is far beyond the remit of a giggling school girl. In fact, parts of it were down-right filthy yet, somehow, never in bad taste. This is due partly to her delivery, which is in impeccable form. She hops from anecdote to anecdote with enough speed to ensure her audience’s attention never wanders, but the punchline never gets away from her. Every joke is delivered with a consistency and precision that has its own rhythm, one so strong that she has the audience laughing to her own beat. The nervous audience atmosphere usually present in such a small venue was banished from the get-go, dissipated by Spencer’s thoroughly relatable charm.
The show itself was structured very nicely, giving us insights into her life that were made hilarious by a heady mix of charm, wit, sincerity and acute embarrassment. Her material is, perhaps, not for the squeamish, and in the hands of another it could even be called crass. (I think she might have had a bet with herself over how many times she could cram in the phrase ‘giant meat curtains’.) In Diane Spencer’s hands, however, it is simply funny; funny because it was managed with a deft touch, and with imagination as well as wit. It is a very fine balancing act she is performing, but I’m not sure I’ve seen many do it better. And you know what? It’s free. Fringe season doesn’t get much better than this.
