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One of the more larger-than-life characters on the new comedy scene, Griffiths is an unstoppable explosion of in-your-face energy, barking out his set without need of any microphone. This attention-demanding delivery is lent to some truly bizarre material, mostly angled on his surreal delusions that he is the rightful king of Spain. When he’s not venting his unhealthy obsession with Iberian succession, he’s mocking his self-confessed ‘pikey’ roots, in what are more straightforward moments of observational lucidity. It’s an odd act, certainly, and one that Griffiths has yet to prove can develop beyond its obvious novelty value. But the refreshing blast of deliver that he brings is always welcome, and never more so than on some of the circuit’s more moribund open-mic nights which he invariably lights up.
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