Friend, fan, or foe of Gyles Brandreth, there’s probably one thing upon which all can agree: the man simply cannot stop talking. Long-suffering wife Michelle came up with the title of this show, and if anyone should be in the know about how acute his verbal diarrhoea has become, it’s her. I mean, the man holds the Guinness World Record for the longest after-dinner speech for goodness sake. Twelve and a half hours, since you ask. Without a bathroom break. But that’s another story…
Dang it, the man is funny. Really funny.
Look, if you’re not really into hefty name-dropping, monarchical sweaters; a nice big dollop of brown nosing; or plummy vowel sounds… then you should probably give this one a swerve. But for the sort of people who like this sort of thing? Then this is the sort of thing they will like. Nay, adore.
Striding on to the stage like a slightly pissed next door neighbour off to the annual village grouse shoot; Brandreth immediately launches into his patter of apparent self-deprecation. His top half - he tells us - is pure Oppenheimer. His lower: all Barbie. Brandreth is nothing if not topical. And this, perhaps, explains the longevity of his appeal. Clearly a precocious child, he has since cleverly inveigled his way into all manner of networks, friendships, and zeitgeists over the years, and a result has the most extraordinary cache of stories about the great, the good, and the downright gruesome.
And dang it, the man is funny. Really funny. Arguably more chucklesome for those of us who have actually lived though the horrors of a bakelite avocado rotary dial and heard of Sybil Thorndike; but this is not a matter of opinion. Brandreth is genuinely funny:funny.
Okay, so by now, it’s a well-worn schtick we’ve all seen a million times on the telly; and who knows where the deliberately pompous alter-ego ends and the real man begins. I’m not too sure that it matters. The Box Office… and the Mexican Wave of belly laughs don’t lie.
It is rare that a Fringe show speeds by without so much as one cursory glance at the time. But this one does. Rotary telephones and theatre history aside, I am probably not the target demographic, and I loved it. There are stories about his childhood, his famous friends, and an opportunity to ask questions, so every show will be different. As he urges the audience at the end to come again, I am sure that several of them may. Buying Fringe tickets may be a lottery, but this is nothing short of a sure-fire winner.
