Review of the comic's latest tour

Nick Helm’s had a tough few years. In his latest tour, he reminisces about the glory days of a decade or so ago, riding high on the back of his excellent breakthrough live show, One Man Mega Myth, starring in Uncle on the telly and content in a settled relationship.

But it all quickly unraveled, and in No One Gets Out Alive he’s frank about the years of mental health turmoil that ensued, opening up old wounds from the years he was bullied for his weight, which led to struggles with bulimia.

That’s a lot of vulnerability for a comic who made his name on the back of a brash, rock-star stage persona. 

Even now, he starts as his familiar belligerent self. Part ringmaster, party wizard and part roadie in appearance, the wildly bearded comedian rearranges the audience to fill empty seats up front – telling, not asking, people to move. They all obey.

The swagger’s still there, too, as he belts out Drop The Motherfucker, a song of unambiguous relationship advice that features plenty of false starts caused by the crowd’s contribution failing to live up to his exacting standards. Such business also makes sure Helm firmly establishes who’s in charge here.

His relationship with the audience is fractious at the best of times, even if it is an act. But he never quite settles in with this North London crowd. How can I know? Because he keeps telling us that things are not gelling as he’d like.

Nevertheless, his exaggerated brusqueness – clearly a protective veneer for a more fragile soul – quickly dissolves away in a set that has as much self-deprecation as it does intolerant grumpiness. 

But more than anything, at 44, Helm is in reflective mode, from the strange nostalgia for his early years among the kerb-crawlers and heroin syringes of Finsbury Park to his regret at being blacklisted by Channel 4 and making a food-based programme for Dave, Eat Your Heart Out, which he was never happy with.

Some anecdotes can be quite meandering, as he recounts relatively inconsequential stories about the personal trainers he got through as he tried to regain control of his life, or the price negotiations on a he brought – even though that routine was pre-empted with an enjoyably playful bit of audience business about mirrors. 

Towards the end of the show, Helm says that now he’s got his mind together he no longer cares what people think, and that perhaps shows in these more mellow segments in which he gives a life update on matters large and small without feeling much apparent compulsion to get the laughs. 

Yet there are more robust routines, too, including one about sex toys that Helm careers into, reckless as to any delicate sensibilities that he might shatter. And a story about going on holiday to the Algarve with his mother, which seems modest in recounting all the irritating things she said, but builds into a detailed portrait of domestic frustration, slowly, steadily and wittily.

As ever, songs provided the highlight. As well as the aforementioned Drop The Motherfucker, Lovely Sunny Day charmingly reflects his brittle optimism, while Nosferatu is surprisingly underpowered, almost like an old-school Eurovision version of a rock anthem. 

However, his belting closing number Down On The Devil – graphically describing what he’d do for Satan for another bite at fame – is a stone-cold Helm classic, almost worth the ticket price alone. Just don’t go singing it as you leave the venue…

» Nick Helm: No One Gets Out Alive is touring until November. Nick Helm tour dates

Review date: 25 Sep 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: ArtsDepot