Review of the comedian recording her latest tour

Despite its title, Suzi Ruffell’s The Juggle is not about the familiar struggle of juggling parenthood and a career. Rather it’s about how becoming a mother has been affecting her self-image, as she comes to see herself through the innocent eyes of her toddler daughter.

Her child thinks she is cool, clever, brave and strong  – though Ruffell spots telltale signs that those scales are falling from her eyes. And the comic knows in her heart that she is none of those things. She’s scared of spiders, ghosts and the dark… and as for being cool, she fills her show by re-living her most cringe-inducing moments, of which there is no shortage. From the weirdly specific lie she told a cab driver to avoid identifying herself as a stand-up to stories from her schooldays of being an outsider seeking friendship and belonging, but finding only humiliation

From the mouths of children also comes some body- and career-shaming, with the youngster unable to see how talking to people can possibly be a proper job. And things will only get worse, as proven by an encounter with a typically sneery teenager who penetrates Ruffell’s soul by deeming stand-up a bit of an ‘ick’ because of the desperation of seeking the approval of strangers.

But you have to admit Ruffell is VERY good at winning that approval. Owning her embarrassments with witty anecdotes and pithy self-analysis connects her to the audience, who hang on her every word. That’s especially effective when telling spooky stories of ‘haunted’ hotels she’s used on tour. Ghost stories have even more resonance tonight, amid the atmospheric, distressed faded grandeur of Wilton’s Music Hall where the comic records this long-running tour as a special.  

Becoming a mother with her wife Alice has also prompted Ruffell to look to her own upbringing, and the outdated parenting style of her father giving her an accidentally harsh life lesson at Chessington World Of Adventures, one of the stand-out anecdotes of this storytelling-led show. 

As she grows up, Ruffell’s daughter is also starting to become curious about death, although the comedian is not so good with mortality herself, a confession that leads into a wonderfully bizarre yarn about what happened when a vet had to put down her pet cat of 12 years. And yes, Ruffell can make a dead cat funny.

Delivered with an animated physical energy that sees her use every centimetre of the stage, the emotional honesty at the heart of her routines is readily identifiable, even if – unlike her – you can get through an episode of Bluey without blubbing. 

What made her teary was the simple message that what’s important in a family is love – whatever that family looks like. The love Ruffell has for her daughter is certainly palpable – and exposing the small-minded ‘you need a mum and a dad’ mantra of bigots like Nigel Farage for the spiteful intolerance it is.

The political message might be a surprise, but Ruffell’s comic instincts are too strong to labour the sincerity without undercutting it with a gag. And the pill is further sweetened by a proper showbizzy ending befitting this music hall – and that gives some closure to that awkward Portsmouth teenager she once was.

Review date: 10 Jun 2026
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Wilton's Music Hall