What a lovely, original and unpredictable show this is. Some may recognise Jonny Sweet from his purring, devious David Cameron in the dubious More4 docudrama When Boris Met Dave or from his deliciously smarmy cameo in the London nightclub episode of The Inbetweeners (he came within a whisker of playing one of the leads, alongside fellow ex-Footlights and House of Windsor members Simon Bird and Joe Thomas). But Sweet is at his strongest and funniest at his most endearing, and his lecturer alter-ego sporting a bow-tie, pink shirt and tight trousers is a masterclass in character comedy. Sweet sets the affable tone by offering high fives and hugs to audience members as they enter: I gave him a sideways, American-style hand-clasp and accidentally hit him in the mouth, at which point he recoiled, ran across the room, whispered in a womans ear, pointed at me, ran back and told me he was legally allowed to hit me in return; I braced myself, but he admirably chose not to. This private performance only lasted about thirty seconds and the show hadnt even started, but already I was enthralled: indeed, in this persona, Sweet exudes exceptional sincerity, warmth and socio-comical dexterity, perhaps more than any young comedian in the country.The show is all the more astonishing when it is, essentially, a lecture on the HMS Nottingham, a ninety percent decommissioned frigate on which Jonnys character seems to have served at some stage. But Sweet imbues it with such enthusiasm, irony and supreme comic timing that one wonders why nobody has used the HMS Nottingham as a springboard for a stand-up show before. Sweet involves the audience brilliantly (tapping knees, winking, etc), especially in the final stages of the show. I am very keen not to give any jokes or surprises away, but it is a beautifully constructed and nuanced set. It is further enriched by the most ingenious use of Powerpoint and a projector Ive seen, though this is perhaps unsurprising: Sweet, managed by The Invisible Dot, is from the same visionary stable as Tim Key and John-Luke Roberts, two stand-ups who also push the technological boundaries of live comedy. One can almost imagine Dot kingpin Simon Pearce himself giving Microsoft Office tutorials to his young protegés. What next I wonder? A series of Excel spreadsheets on fractional distillation? There is very little to criticise here. Every now and then, there is the slightest hint of Alan Partridge in his pseudo-self-satisfied delivery, but Sweets lecturer is far more likeable and engaging and the comparison is a testimony to his timing and conviction rather than an accusation of imitation. The small venue works in the shows favour, lending the room the feel of a slightly stuffy subterranean university lecture hall; Sweet, who won last years Edinburgh Comedy Best Newcomer award for Mostly About Arthur, could comfortably sell out venues twice this size, but it demonstrates refreshing humility that this years show has the personal intimacy of a chamber piece, or a private acoustic live performance. In fact, there is nothing to criticise here. It is hard to pick a favourite moment without spoiling it, but the final fifteen minutes of the set is a display of breathless brilliance, an impressionistic maelstrom of comedic invention that hints that we have only just scratched the surface of Sweets delightful, unique and modern mind. Quite wonderful.
