Last night, Simon Amstell played a couple of gigs in the tiny 100 club on Oxford Street. I like his shameless style of humour, and have seen a lot of him on the telly, but had heard mixed reviews of his live stuff, so went in with low expectations.
After a few minutes of a warm-up act – a slightly slurring poet called Tim who wasn’t too bad – Amstell came on with an act that began slow, but soon ripped through every offensive topic of humour under the sun – from clown rape to racism, to a wickedly funny Tsunami dance – under a narrative of “meaning of life” style anecdotes. While the delivery wasn’t as quippy or fast-paced as his TV comedy, the show definitely delivered.
Santogold was on the cards for tonight, but I’m still pretty jetlagged.