The first thing to know about Diane Chorley’s show is it is not strictly comedy. It is mainly songs plus waspish anecdotes from the cod-Eighties diva. With that noted, however, this is about as funny as a musical gig gets.
Gradually the comedic back story emerges with a dusting of namedropping. While running Essex club The Flick, Chorley was dubbed the “Duchess of Canvey” by a passing David Bowie. The Flick was the Chiltern Firehouse of its day, with everyone from Boy George to Barrymore crossing paths with the flame-haired glamourpuss, pictured, who bears a striking resemblance to Quentin Crisp circa 1975.
Chorley’s Soho show is the inevitable comeback gig. There was talk of getting backing band The Buffet together too, but “the only thing they have in common now is gout”. Instead a new motley crew, including someone claiming to be TV gardener Charlie Dimmock’s son, provides the rhythmic backdrop while bruiser Ron, who I would not like to meet down an alley, offers monosyllabic supporting vocals.
Covers of Simply Red and George Michael could be cut, but they do get the crowd in a party mood. Kitchen sink lyrics on original numbers such as C’Mon Canvey — “Some bastards taped over Strike It Lucky with a rerun of The Price is Right” — and Dagenham Eyes are not quite up there with Ian Dury, who gets name-checked but they are not far off. Raucously jolly, if more knees up than stand-up.
Until June 27. Tickets here. This review first appeared in The Evening Standard.
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