Review of 15 new acts (plus one pro headliner...)

Set up in 2022 to give a profile boost to new comedians struggling post-pandemic, the West End New Act of the Year showcases a lot of acts – no fewer than 15 at the final plus six more entrants given ‘one to watch’ status.

Thankfully, the variety of styles, a high minimum standard, strict five-minute slots and brisk but effective compering by contest organiser Steve McLean – despite his chaotic shtick – made what could have been a midweek marathon whiz by.

Unusually, the running order was decided on the fly, with performers only learning they were on next when their name was plucked from a hat on stage. Nonetheless, the self-avowed hippy Tim Biglowe was a solid choice to open and reassured the audience they were going to be in for a decent night. A Rowlf Muppet in human form, he gave jolly glimpses into what it’s like living on a canal boat and sharing the story of a low-budget proposal in Wetherspoons.

The set’s light on clear gags, but he’s likeable presence with an engaging manner and eventually took third place - worth a staggering £50 – based on audience votes. It might be a slightly dubious  system, given that almost everyone in the room declared themselves there to support a mate, but it was not an outrageous placing.

Drawn second was Indian comic Shalaka Karup, who’s fast becoming a fixture in new act finals across the country, and who would deservedly triumph tonight (and scoop £150) with her sardonic and savvy set. She even coins her own catchphrase, thanks to one of her country’s most revered statesmen, while her wry observations about both British and Indian culture stands out thanks to some impressive phrase-making. Her seemingly conservative exterior conceals a more devilish streak, making a very appealing comic package.

Dora Flowers burst on to the stage with a flurry of attitude as a middle-aged woman who just doesn’t give a damn any more. She served up something of a scattergun set, inconsistent in tone and persona, but with some snappy gags and a lot of oomph.

Serena Smart also didn’t fully exploit the originality of her persona of a woman utterly in thrall to the corporate world, slipping into more generic material such as receiving dick pics. But she’s got some sharp lines and the more she leans into her supposed love of capitalism, crypto and vacuous management bullshit, the more distinctive she is.

Old-fashioned in approach, Dave Wilder stands rigidly at the mic as he delivers his one-liners, exuding a ‘poor me’ attitude. Some of the jokes are old too – a play on ‘that’s bigamy’ and ‘that’s big of me’, for example – and those that aren’t ancient just seem that way. It all seemed a bit corny and dull.

Su Mi is a young female British-Malaysian comic… so naturally she reminded me of white Canadian veteran Phil Nichol. For she shares his assertive, boisterous in-your-face style – even before she whipped out her guitar for a jaunty singalong that flirts with political incorrectness. The writing might trail her irresistible energy, but she’s a hugely entertaining force of nature who’d breathe life into any gig.

Unfortunately, Kate Lois-Elliot couldn’t bring the same levels of commitment to her story about working in doggie day care that constituted her entire set. The anecdote culminates in some comically grim slapstick imagery, but the journey there was overblown and under-powered.

Stand-up fans with long memories might recall Simon Munnery’s early character The Security Guard, a deadpan creation with no obvious sense of humour. Nick Kirk channelled the same idea for his alter-ego, the fire inspector Dave Steed, here to pass judgement on the venue, though also clearly struggling with his divorce and haunted by the bad life choices he’s made. It’s an amusing tragi-comic conceit and expertly performed with fine timing – though the premise might struggle to last much beyond the five minutes he delivered here.

A mixed bag from Louie McLean. Material about being ginger seems tired, and his talk about being bullied for it tediously ends with a variant on the  ‘…and that was just my mum’ pullback. Meanwhile Alastair Beckett-King already has the definitive joke about having no eyebrows so McLean’s seems like a pale (obviously…) imitation. Other parts of the set are more creative, but he seems to need more quality control.

Ditto for the personable, if excitable, Saleha Masud, whose routine sometimes felt like a random download of her experiences of being on the dating apps – material that’s entertaining enough but also instantly disposable. More promising were her playful mentions of white liberal guilt and tongue-in-cheek comparisons between her family’s hometown in India and Essex

Archit Goenka also drew on his subcontinental roots, with sardonic comments about how the Brits are terrible with spices, and other stereotypes - of both white folk and Asians - that have more that a grain of truth to them. Plus he was charmingly self-effacing about his own life. Yet again, he may have struggled to be memorable on such a crowded bill, but he’s a competent pair of hands.

Luke Nixon is far more confident about his self-deprecation – if that’s not a tautology – and brought a barnstorming energy to the room. With a lot about how he looks, it’s again quite forgettable stuff, but his buoyant bonhomie suggests he might make for a useful MC.

Eni Oshowo is a more intriguing long-term prospect with an innate poise that commands attention, even despite his confessions to not fitting in with the ‘strong black man’ archetype. He has interesting stuff to say on homophobia in the black community and racism in the LBGT one, sitting, as he does, in the crossover of the two. But he handles it with a deft touch and does not constrain himself to the heavyweight, offering a playfully silly take on deodorant ads to close an impressive set that probably deserved to place.

Not that Blank Peng didn’t deserve her second position. She initially projects a smiley, eager-to-please naivety, but that unthreatening exterior conceals some spiky opinions and caustic gags that would be silenced in her native China – an authoritarianism she is quick to mock. This charming  assassin takes shots at Western stereotypes as well, undermining them at every turn.

Abigail Adams has a middle-class confidence as befits the aspiring lawyer that she is, and proved to be another comic who can hold the room – even at the end of a long night – with reasonably amusing stories without the feeling she’s in much urgency to get to a punchline. Tales of St Patrick’s day drinking and finding her flatmate’s condom stash are drawn from everyday experience, but perhaps a bit too everyday.

While the votes were tallied, pro headliner Paul F Taylor showed how it should be done, with imaginative twists on common irritants such as the ubiquitous rail replacement bus service and being a new parent. He plays up the foolishness, but he’s very clever for an idiot, with unique and inventive punchlines layered on to his distinctive point of view.

Review date: 3 Mar 2023
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett