As Michael McIntyre walked onstage he saw someone reading a newspaper. These days the superstar usually plays arenas where he can barely see the audience, never mind newsprint. The daily was duly folded up, shortly followed by everyone creasing up at his freewheeling performance.
This intimate gig, in aid of the Eaves charity, which helps vulnerable women, boasted a fine bill, introduced by organiser James Mullinger. Suburban wimp Hal Cruttenden bemoaned his inability to relate to builders, while cyclist Joel Dommett recalled how he recently crashed and landed in a driver’s lap: “He caught me like Patrick Swayze.”
Feisty Luisa Omielan and improv group Noise Next Door excelled before McIntyre appeared and confessed he has taken up golf, conclusive proof he is now showbiz royalty. Alongside classic quips about scoffing hotel biscuits and illogical spellings of names he also revealed he has moved to the country. He frets about intruders but hopes his fake brutish Scottish accent will scare them away.
Best was a skit about opticians’ tests. Why do we try to guess the letters, he wondered: “It’s not a game show. You don’t win the glasses.” Nothing wrong with McIntyre’s eye for a winning gag.
MORE ABOUT