The pest controller premise was a potentially clever idea lazily worked, but the Pleasance cellar is too claustrophobic for anything apart from bare stand-up to work in anyway.
But I didn't care. It was clear that the gags were the first priority in the script, and it paid off in spades. The punchline delivery was Swiss-timed, the frugal use of superflous swearing was refreshing, and that critical balance for any good stand-up between 'mate in pub' and 'loony on park bench' was perfectly tuned. Far too funny to worry about whether a goldfish should be allowed to watch it too.

Orient Meat Pie, August 2001