The rest of the show is just about Ocado

Rob DelaneyMy second Friday night in a row at a comedy gig.  This week’s venue was very different to the West End Centre in Aldershot – no offence intended to the little West End Centre but The Royal Festival hall is one of my favourite big old halls.  When you get obsessed with something right down to the carpets, you know it’s love.

BFF, Husband, and I were in row LL for Rob Delaney.  Catastrophe has been a highlight of my TV schedule since episode one, and Rob’s 2013 book moved and delighted me in equal amounts.  As it turns out, BFF and Husband did not feel the same about the book, and I did feel a bit bad for dragging them with me (But HEY NOW they’re their own men) as I don’t think any of us particularly had a great time.

We started the evening with a quick and unusually intense dinner at Canteen.  At this point, I’ve given up on trying to have a standard dinner in a restaurant, as there’s always something going on.  This time – a waiter who was happy to silently wait (and stare) as we made dinner choices.

We got to our seats in plenty of time for the support act, Aisling Bea, which I think warrants mentioning as pretty much everyone else was late, chatty, or unable to sit still for the first 50% of her set.  I very much enjoyed her oeuvre but it would have been nice to see her and not the FOOLS wandering around the stalls in front.

Her set warmed me up nicely though, and I was ready for Rob to make me laugh some more.  And whilst there were some chucklesome moments, nothing that made me physically hurt.  It was just a lot of jokes about his penis, his naggy wife, his tiring children, his penis, and more about his penis.

Look, I’m not opposed to a good knob joke, and I like to think part of Rob’s style is a bit of ironic chauvinism (he has called himself a feminist in the past) but I’m not entirely sure the audience thought it was irony.  Most of them could not control themselves.  It all just felt a bit old-school club comedy which I am just not into.

I have got myself into a dangerous position now of demanding all comedians take me to the edge of hysteria.  If tears aren’t rolling down my face, then I just don’t see it as funny so I think I need to reset my expectations a bit.

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