Review of a gig gone awry

James Acaster suffered a sobering case of ‘be careful what you wish for’ at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre last night.

Having owned a copy of the 2004 DVD of Ross Noble playing this magical London venue in his youth, it had long been one of Acaster’s career goals to follow suit. 

However, he soon learned it was a den of distraction, from planes flying overhead and birds tweeting, to the fact he could see every member of the audience coming and going, eating ice-cream or layering up as dusk fell on a warm summer’s day. And that includes spotting a certain Chortle reviewer all the way back in row O almost immediately.

As Acaster astutely commented, all this had been grist to the mill for Noble, whose whole brand is built on diversions. But for him wanting to present a tightly-written, layered and nuanced show, the conditions were far from ideal. The narrative never built the momentum he would have wanted as he interrupted his flow to address what seemed to be each and every irritant.

While that took away from the show as intended, it also added something – and not just twenty-plus minutes to the running time. There is already a strong element of self-flagellation in the scripted show, which was only emphasised by the distractions keeping him on the back foot and, by his own admission, stuck in his own head.

Maybe we can thank his previous tour, Hecklers Welcome, for teaching him to be a bit more present in dealing with interruptions – as was its aim – because the running commentary on all the setbacks certainly brought an in-the-moment spontaneity to the gig.

Beyond that, the high-concept premise of the tour is that we are not witnessing James Acaster, but his number one tribute act, Craig Simons, who hula-hoops his way on to stage in a sparkly crimson jacket before frenetically belting out some of the stand-up’s greatest hits, including ‘Poppadom or bread?’ from the Off-Menu podcast, or a snippet of the Kettering Town FC song.

But Simons is getting disillusioned with Acaster, feeling his brand of whimsical observations on the minutiae of life combined with ‘my brain is broken’ commentary on his mental health has becoming too limiting. Amid a torrent of abuse from Acaster’s inner critic made flesh, Simons wants to deliver his own material, a simpler mix of the silly and the politically trenchant unencumbered by the expectations of living up to the critics’ permanent description of him as ‘clever’.

Nonetheless, Acaster cannot be so straightforward as to express these artistic frustrations as himself. He has to adopt a persona to say what he really thinks about ‘painting himself into an artistic corner’.

There is a having-your-cake-and-eating-it aspect to this. As Simons, Acaster can perform what at least starts as a relatively straightforward observational routine about airport baggage Carousel without trying to overthink it. But then the whole show becomes entangled in increasing strands of meta complexity that it would be difficult to unknot here – although Acaster makes it all coherent, while joking about any inherent flaws, especially the opacity of some running gags for anybody not already au fait with his back catalogue.

Yet it all works. His nozzle routine is presented as a parody of an archetypal Acaster bit – but is strong in its own right – while even if some of his flights of fantasy, such as the yarn about Abba, seem self-indulgent, they are all later revealed to have their place in the grander house of cards.

Yes, much of these punchlines would surely have landed harder had they been delivered as intended. But although the vagaries of the open-air setting meant this was not the show Acaster set out to deliver – which is why I’ve not star-rated it – he shouldn’t beat himself up over the fact. The good stuff stood out and the distractions meant the audience were treated to a unique gig. And not just because Acaster has vowed never, ever to return to this cursed venue…

Review date: 1 Jun 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Regent's Park Open Air Theatre