Original Review:

Show Rating:

You would have thought that after last year's Perrier newcomer accolade, Cruickshank and McCabe could have afforded a decent microphone.

That they sound as if they are performing behind a brick wall does nothing to dispel the image that this is a really cheap show. Not just in production values, but in ideas and jokes, too.

Cruickshank's Harry Ainsworth is a deliberately cheesy light entertainment parody - and, admittedly, he almost has the charm to pull it off, if not the material.

But however you dress it up, a dismal joke is a dismal joke, ironic or not. And the conceit wears very thin, very quickly.

McCabe's character Dave Strong is an altogether different proposition. He has the stage presence, delivery skills and charisma of a breezeblock. Deadpan's one thing, but the way his dour mumblings suck the very life out of the room is truly painful to witness.

Overall, this is a tired catalogue of poor-quality double entendres and desperate attempts at zany Noel's House Party-style 'fun'.

The level of humour is stuck in a Seventies timewarp, such as the recurring joke of inferring that straight audience members are gay, or 'fun boys'.

As well as those undercurrents, gags like 'Saddam can use his turban as a tea cosy' are simply racist and ignorant, even if it is supposed to be in ill-informed character.

The lads may have their heart set on parody, but they are just too close to the desperate, unfunny entertainers they are targeting to make the joke work.

Unprofessionally, I have to confess that I left 15 minutes early as the show was running late - though heaven knows why, there are no other shows in this nightclub venue. Though even without such an excuse I'm not sure how much more painfully forced humour I could have endured.

No doubt they have a grand finale - but even if they had introduced Billy Connolly, Robin Williams and Steve Martin they would have been hard pushed to undo the damage of the preceding rubbish.