The second half opened with a big man with a distinctive delivery. Nick Page hit the ground running with a fast-paced monotone riff about how all the farmers near where he comes from voted “leave” despite relying on EU subsidies and employing foreign labour. I thought he would slow down after this but if anything he got faster as he hurtled through more deadpan gags including a novel debunking of the Schrodinger’s Cat theory. He described his style as less stand-up, more "I fuck up my life and report back.” That didn’t feel quite right – it’s what Russell Brand used to say as well and was maybe more true in his case – but there was no doubting that Page had a very comical take on the world and it won him second place.
Gordon Southern was another of the well-established acts. I have to confess I haven’t seen him in a while so don’t know how long he has been using iPad sound effects but I’m not sure if this was playing to his strengths. Every now and again he would come out with a “fun fact” but it was not a catchphrase that easily caught on. Southern did interact well with the audience, doing some raps over a backing track based on suggestions, which were crowdpleasing but hardly groundbreaking. This was never going to be a bad set and on another night things might have run more smoothly. On this occasion though he missed out on a placing.
Adam Rowe was the second Liverpudlian with the gift of the gab. He had an easy going style and accessible material about his Primark jacket and the awkwardness of sharing a flat with his girlfriend and his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend who had a habit of knocking on their door at the wrong moment. He had a particularly good riff about his lazy eye and how it had been fixed by having a muscle from his thigh implanted in it. Which is not a routine that is likely to be nicked by another comic.
Ian Smith bounded onstage and injected some vitality into the evening just as the audience was starting to flag (well done to compere Andrew Maxwell for holding things together). His story about coming from Goole and how it gets mistaken for Google when you search for it was a quirky, impressive one. He also had some idiosyncratic business about his new neighbour’s penchant for bumbags and the mythical properties of dandelion and burdock. His surname might be mundane but Smith has the makings of an outstanding comic. Although he didn't make the top three I enjoyed him a lot.
What a difference a day makes. Twenty-four hours earlier spoof posh adventurer Jasper Cromwell Jones had won Old Comedian of the Year. He did a slightly extended version of the same act and yet it failed to take flight in the same way. The set-ups were there, the punchlines were there, but that extra spark was missing. Maybe the audience was knackered, but Cromwell Jones, alias Joe Bor, had been the last act on on the previous night and it hadn’t done him any harm then. This time he had a good gig rather than an outstanding one and will have to settle for just one top spot this week.
In fact last spot on this occasion was a real tough one. It was late, it was hot and the music outside the Udderbelly tent seemed to have got louder (or maybe the laughter inside had just got quieter). As Tom Toal quipped, he was the only act who was backed by a soundtrack. He also had to contend with people slipping out to catch their train. As a result he struggled, despite some good material about parenthood and being a quarter Polish. I’m sure he will have better nights, but that’s the luck of the draw. Excuse the pun, but at well over two hours, the long evening was certainly value for money but took its Toal.
