Review of the comic back out on tour

If you were being harsh, you could describe Russell Howard as comedy’s equivalent of the ‘Love, Life, Laugh’ slogan, pushing a worthy but banal message of celebrating positivity in humanity.

But that would be to overlook the immense skill with which he writes and performs his lean and agile routines, sweeping the audience along in that trademark puppy-dog vim. ‘What a time to be alive!’ is his opening line, genuinely enthused, even by a chaotic news cycle.

It’s hard to believe Howard is 45 (and he is - he even has the obligatory middle-aged colonoscopy routine to prove it) given that he looks and acts like a man half his age. He says he doesn’t want to be an ‘old man’ comic railing against the younger generation – though some modern traits do irritate him – but he brings such verve and lust for life to the stage it’s hard to envisage him ever going to the grumpy side.

He’s mastered the art of performing with the illusion of spontaneity, snapping his fingers as if a thought has just occurred to him; tossing the mic casually from hand to hand to add dynamism as he paces the stage. The material’s fast-moving, too, never dwelling a moment longer than needed to get the gags over.

Howard starts with some topical material. It’s a sign of how things have changed that he’s using TV to road-test material for his live shows rather than vice-versa. It may be a safe assumption that the viewing figures for Mock The Week on TLC are such that he can do the same Beckhams-inspired bit about embarrassing mums at weddings on stage as he did on screen. 

There are quips about the usual suspects – Trump, Epstein, Prince Andrew and Farage – easy targets, but deserving ones. Even in such well-trodden turf, the jokes are good, although when he puts a political message into the mix, it’s simplistic button-pressing. Ironically, he rails against sloganeering in place of solutions elsewhere in the show, but is guilty enough of it himself.

Yet occasionally he shows some unexpected moves against the liberal-left grain, such as making jibes about fellow comedians who use ADHD as their whole personality - and don’t get him started on anyone who self-diagnoses as ‘neurospicy’. Contrarianism suits him, since he has the crowd-pleasing delivery to get away with it and the juxtaposition’s a charm – although he rarely dabbles in anything but the easiest route.

Indeed, he seems keenly attuned to when the audience pull back in even the slightest way – although that could be an affectation to seem more edgy. After one minor recoil, he tells the London Palladium: ‘Relax I’m really good.’ Arrogant, yes, but evidence-based. If you want to feel old, Howard has been performing stand-up for 28 years… plenty long enough to know how strongly the feelgood message works for him. 

A vibe of the show, which he repeats a couple of times, is that Americans are loud and proud, Brits are quiet and silly, at least at our best. Boaty McBoatface was our cultural apex.  In a grubby world of upskirting and dick pics, Howard wants a return  to the simple childish delights of cock-and-balls graffiti. He hails the myriad biological wonders of boobs – brought home by being father to a 15-month-old boy, a fact which underpins many of his stories. 

This taps into his recurring theme of how women are awesome and blokes are comically useless – both in general and in particular, from his own foibles to the Polish bloke with the dumb question in his childbirth class. The difference between the two genders is the most enduring topic in stand-up, but Howard’s verve keeps it fresh.

The home leg is possibly a bit preachy, with stories celebrating odd behaviour hammering hard at the glib message that humans are fascinating and social media isn’t, so we should get off our phones and live in the real world. Which is perhaps a bit rich for a comic with 1.6million TikTok followers and half as many again on Insta. 

As with virtually the whole 90 minutes he’s on stage, there aren’t many layers to the material, but, my, is the superficiality fun! 

Meanwhile, Andrew Bird also did fine work in support, from MC-style warming up of the crowd to sharing his dispatches from a long marriage, unable to compete with the enthusiasm of love’s first flushes. A self-described ‘piss-taking prick’, he had an entertaining take on parochialism, with a woman from Belfast in the crowd hilariously proving his point and creating a lovely moment of spontaneity that, yes, hits harder in the room than watching on Reels later. 

• Don’t Tell The Algorithm is touring until November. Russell ​Howard tour dates

Review date: 10 Feb 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: London Palladium