The Guardian describes his comedy as "richly idiosyncratic" (on the poster). I'd never seen him before but was interested based on his comic pedigree: two Edinburgh awards (best newcomer and best show). The initial outlook didn't look good. No queue to get in at 7.35pm. No Mr Big Issue bantering and badgering us to buy his "shite" magazine. Once inside, two sections of the room were curtained off, with chairs and tables stacked to the side to make it smaller, more square. There was no one buying drinks at the bar and only two people sitting at the tables. Obviously not a sellout. However, the show isn't due to start till 8.30 and slowly the reduced space begins to fill. They eventually set up an extra six chairs on the balcony and a few bar stools at the back wall to accommodate pay-at-the-door guests. It feels cosy. Support act, Donald Alexander, is from Glasgow. His comedy character is odd. His opener is to do an impression of a man outside a used car dealership. It's very visual, making good use of his lankiness. His material is offbeat. Some of it doesn't work but he's young so plenty of time to grow. He does a good 20 mins. John Kearns' character, with his monk wig and false teeth, immediately sets a weird, awkward tone. He reveals his world to us so clearly, with specific details, observations and expressions, that laughs are drawn from thin air. It's funny because it feels familiar, even though most of it is probably fictional. It's a rounded character who will never get on top, given the cards life has dealt him, but that doesn't stop him being the man he is, making the most of it. It's bizarre but wonderful. It's a shame that there were less than a hundred people present.
You might think Jim has mellowed now that he's rich and famous, a father and a tv star with his own show in the States. Then he says something so outrageous you forget to breathe for laughing. He has cut down on his misogynistic material but nothing is ever really off limits. Tonight, a trio of trolls arrive late, having written off their rear wheel drive BMW in the snow. Their seats are in the middle of the third row (not the BMW's - that would have been a really bad crash). I'm sitting nearby in the fourth row (good seat, near the front and unusually in the stalls, as my wife prefers the circle, away from danger). I know about the car incident as hoodie troll number one uninvitedly relates the story to Jim. Then proceeds to believe he's the star of the show and keeps interrupting. Jim closes him down like a Jongleurs' professional, with put down after put down. It is an art form to listen to. Fortunately, it doesn't spoil the show and leads us into two fabulous heckle stories involving a down syndrome man and a lady who'd miscarried six weeks earlier (during a kicking dead babies around in heaven routine). This kind of material was why I'd try to dissuade my wife from coming. I didn't think it would be her thing. But then my mate got ill and plan B became plan D so she came with me, albeit with as frosty an atmosphere as it was outside. Time was tight before we left after a longer than expected dog walk in the snow. I didn't change out of my walking boots and heavy coat so we could leave immediately. I thought it would be okay to wear anyway given the conditions. It wasn't until we were in the queue outside the venue that I realised I still had my Nightsearcher Commander torch in my jacket pocket. This is a serious piece of hardware, capable of 1000 lumens, with a solid metal chassis. Not the kind of tool you should be carrying to a comedy gig. There wasn't time to go back to the car. Worry became panic as we got closer to the door. If I got patted down, they'll definitely feel it in my pocket. I'd have to hand it in. I considered putting it down my pants but then wondered if there was a metal detector beyond the door. How would I explain the beeps when they waved the hand held over my crotch? It's not the kind of area that normally needs illuminating, especially with a thousand lumens. Fortunately, they neither patted me down nor used a metal detector. Security consisted of handbag checks only. Jim Jefferies, you are lucky to be alive. But at least I could have pitched in if a spotlight failed. Did my wife like the show? No. Why? It was too cold. Now I know why she really prefers to sit in the circle - it's warmer. I thought he was fantastic. A masterclass in storytelling comedy.
