Review of the final

Leicester Square Theatre’s New Comedian Of The Year whittled down more than 300 acts across 40 heats to just 14 hopefuls for yesterday's final, competing for a title previously held by acts such as Rob Beckett, Tim Renkow, Funmbi Omotayo and returning host Sam Nicoresti.

First to enter the thunderdome was Birkenhead’s Hazel Donovan, the kind of act who would only play first on a night like this, where running order is randomised. Her slow, methodical delivery and downbeat energy would provide a refreshing palate cleanser on a club bill between more animated acts, but here it felt like kicking off with a deflating football. Her mordant dryness and focus on slagging off her immediate family members was reminiscent of Jo Brand, but her daughter came in for it just as much as her husband, which is a funny twist.

Rosie Wood offered something more distinctive, with a nicely formed comic persona. Presenting very young and perpetually away-with-the-fairies, she had some of the qualities of an early Shelley Duvall, drily recounting her daydreams of being a movie star, and how they interfered with her more quotidian work as a barista. Memorable and sharply written, she was one of many acts who might have gotten to the podium in a less competitive final.

Charlie Firth entered the room with some vocal support, but struggled to make an impact amid the bigger personalities that were to follow. Starting with some slightly flat material about playing Joseph in his school play, and eventually wrapping up with decent gear about trying to be woke at a football match, he came across as polished but ultimately bland. A little more comic exaggeration is needed to craft a persona that will stand out from the pack.

In a similar boat, Ramsey Maberly-Smith was at least Australian, but also not quite sticky enough as a character. His material – well-meaning stuff on his attitudes towards racism and transphobia – was serviceable but a little timid. It definitely felt like he spent a lot of time on trans issues without any real connection to the subject.

Gabriel Madden capped off this trilogy of under-seasoned straight boys, but was definitely the most successful of the three, with some natural charm that spoke volumes. Speaking on his Judaism and outwardly-ambiguous ethnicity, he nicely manufactured a few chances for choice ad libs, demonstrating his confidence on stage in a way that no one else had managed to that point.

Fab Goualin though, turned the charisma dial up a notch. This Londoner of French Nigerian descent had the rich vocals and natural poise of someone who’s lived a real life before coming to comedy. His material about coming out as a gay man to his conservative community, and his new life with his boyfriend in Brighton was a little hit and miss at times, leaning on broad stereotypes, but the personality behind it was undeniable. He was another act who narrowly missed the podium, and the first who you could imagine holding his own on TV.

‘One of those vulgar female comedians,’ Lizzie Simpson came in like a breath of sassy fresh air, riding roughshod over all the sensitive beta males she had been asked to follow. Here was clever, strident writing that her body language is not yet managing to mirror – her static positioning on stage and lack of animation let her down a little – but her aggressive style felt like a real tonic at the end of the first half, and she took home second place.

Opening a very strong second act, Alan Jay was a Glaswegian gay guy leveraging his sexuality and his ‘messed up’ childhood as the son of two heroin addicts. For his bluntness and his darkness, you might say he’s working in the same vein as Frankie Boyle but for his upbeat demeanour. If he were to allow that darkness to land a little heavier, there’s significant potential there, and what sounds like a surfeit of biographical material to draw on.

Roman Harris, pictured, was another act who’s really been out and experienced the world, in his case including 15 years working as a firefighter, which must come with some great stories. His set was very impressive – structured carefully as a five minute introductory mini-narrative which laid out his backstory and his comedic concerns, subverted audience expectations and even provided natural callbacks. It was like a Fringe show in miniature, borne aloft by a warm personality with just the right amount of spicy heat. He was a fairly clear choice for first place, and rewarded that choice with an extemporaneous acceptance speech about his path into comedy that I’d go so far as to say was inspiring. This guy’s got the goods.

Next up, Dom McGovern, who’s already built up a decent head of steam as tour support for Sophie Duker and Olga Koch, and co-writer of Chicken Shop Date. Certainly the most cosmopolitan performer on the bill, his writing has a catty sophistication that you don’t often see with newer acts. Almost a little too urbane for his own good in front of this particular crowd, the strength of his writing was recognised by the judges and he took home third place.

Ajay Rose brought a more gravelly masculine energy to the Leicester Square Theatre, with material on getting baked in front of Netflix and being racially ambiguous. Like some of the boys in the first half, his persona wasn’t strong enough to make the kind of impact you need in a competition setting like this, but you could imagine him making a strong club comic, particularly with his propensity to land heavily on his punchlines. John Kearns would not have been happy that he stopped for a water break during a five minute set.

Leeds-based Alex Mitchell has probably outgrown this competition already, having reached the finals of Britain’s Got Talent two years ago. As a queer man living with Functional Neurological Disorder, Tourettes, a stammer, anxiety and depression, he has quite a few rich seams from which to dig out personal comedy, and while he says he enjoys making people uncomfortable, his comedic style papers over any cracks with a blithe chirpiness. You can see why he did well on BGT, but the judges tonight found him a little broad.

Penultimate act Joe Peden – one half of sketch duo Finlay & Joe – was the only act to try on a character for size, and after so many straightforward stand-ups it came as a blessed relief to watch him perform for five minutes in character (and costume!) as a pirate. The audience undeniably loved it, and Peden had worked up a very solid five minutes of piratical material. Whether it illuminated his qualities as a stand-up is perhaps another matter, as this felt like a pretty context-specific set. For a real character act, you’d want to see more thought put into the – well, into the character.

Finally, Mancunian Charlie Lewis brought up the rear, working in the Gary Delaney mode of bawdy one-liners, slinging puns at a moderate rate and revealing nothing about himself other than that he’s bisexual. Hearing a collection of one-liners should have been a refreshment in the same way that Joe Peden’s pirate act was, but Lewis’s crop were just a little underpowered, eliciting an unfavourable ratio of groans to chuckles. Again, you can imagine an act like Lewis doing fine at a rowdy club on a Friday night, but the crossover appeal is not there yet.

Review date: 11 Jan 2026
Reviewed by: Tim Harding
Reviewed at: Leicester Square Theatre