Devvo Dole Queue Hero: Fringe 2012
Live Review
Alternative Fringe @ The Hive

By allowing Alf Garnett to become a hero to the prejudiced people he parodied, Johnny Speight long ago proved that the problem of 'having your cake and eating it' doesn't really exist in comedy.

More recently, Al Murray has demonstrated you can not only have your cake and eat it - you can strenuously deny that you even knew it was cake in the first place. If Murray can hear the irony in the voices of those who cheer his Pub Landlord's sexist and xenophobic statements then he's on his own.

It's a tradition that continues with Simon Brodkin's Lee Nelson and now Yorkshireman Darren Devonshire whose Devvo character is , according to interpretation,  either an astonishingly authentic portrayal of a representative of Britain's emotionally-retarded jobless underclass or an actual representative of Britain's emotionally-retarded jobless underclass.

If it's the former then perhaps the stag night atmosphere of his afternoon gig in a packed venue on the Free Fringe was evidence that his audience understands the subtle nuance of his performance and have cast themselves as a rowdy bunch of Neanderthals to lend substance to his authenticity.  Or perhaps the crowd he attracts is only in Edinburgh because someone tricked them into thinking that this is where The Jeremy Kyle Show is filmed.

To be fair to Devvo, he understands his audience.  They relish being called 'dickheads' by the man with the mic and they appear entirely au fait with his oeuvre.  When, during his shambolic show, he can't decide what to do next, members of his audience help him out by making requests for specific 'raps'.  They know his work.  And his requests for a volunteer from the audience are met with a glee seldom seen at a comedy gig.  'Humiliate me' they might as well be shouting as they beg for a minute or more of Devvo's attention and the right to be repeatedly called a 'dickhead'.

So what does Devonshire do with all this energy?  Not a lot.  A game which has the audience suggesting corruptions of the names of celebrities to create new television programmes becomes the longest, dullest Twitter hashtag game in history.  A hashtag game, if you can imagine such a thing, in which all the suggestions - no matter how bad - are read aloud and then commented upon.  A sample of the sparkling wit that this game yielded: ‘Sharon Stone - it's just her stoned’ and ‘Alan Cumming - that could be a rude one or it could just be ‘I’m coming round".

After a rap called Crystal Meffi, Devvo treats us to some of his musings.  These include the news that he wishes to meet Whitney Houston and Amy Winehouse – the gag being that they both owe him money for the drugs he supplied them with.  Even Devvo's loyal devotees seem to recognise that this is beyond the pail and the only laughter these jokes draw is the nervous variety.  

Devvo is unfazed.  ‘I decided I was bored as fuck and told my boss to fuck himself,’ he continues to read from his ‘musings’ before adding, ‘I took a poo off a bus shelter on the way home.’ Comedy gold.

During another allegedly 'musical' interlude, Devvo persuades the audience to join in, and they do so with the enthusiasm of a prison common room at Christmas during a sing song being led by the psychos on D Wing.  Like each part of this miserable show, it goes on far longer than it should.

At least that was my reaction; this is a show that is so clearly enjoyed by its audience – and the Fringe prides itself on its eclecticism.  But there is a line between comedy and crowd baiting and the audience's enthusiasm cannot excuse a performance that is vile, lazy and unfunny.

The start of this review invokes Johnny Speight and Al Murray but no-one should imagine that Darren Devonshire has created a character worthy of theirs.  Speight and Murray may have benefited from the ambiguity of their respective audiences' responses but it's clear that they had parody in mind and they never set out to insult their audience.

Devonshire never stops insulting his audience – both literally and by reducing everything to a common denominator that's so low that it's beneath the gutter.