FRANK SKINNER: 30 YEARS OF DIRT

There’s something comfortingly ordinary about Frank Skinner, his gangly frame, grey suit and orange top, look like he might have picked them up from M&S and not bothered to try them on. He ambles onto the stage with absolutely no sense of being a show biz, comedy legend. But that is exactly what he is. A career that goes back to 1987, and along the way has garnered top comedy awards and accolades, Skinner is, it would seem, unaffected by fame. And his hit show, rather than being peppered with celebrity stories, except a brief flurry of royals, is more or less about the ordinariness of his life.

He immediately builds up a relationship with his audience. What kind of fool books a seat in the front row of a stand up gig? I ask you, and wears something that really stands out, talk about putting yourself in the line of fire. Frank is in there, gently to start, but pretty soon that warmth, that gentle charm is revealed to contain hidden razor blades of wit. No one is safe.

But it’s not all about Skinner attacking the audience, far from it. A huge amount of his act is about self deprecation. Gradually throughout the show he peels away his own flaws, foibles and failings. Of course in doing so he makes you recognise your own. It’s clever stuff without being clever clever.

Nothing is sacred, family, friends, pets, politics… but mainly himself. And even when that wicked, razor sharp wit is aimed towards someone or something else you cannot help liking the man. This is not stuff for the faint of heart, it goes beyond saucy for sure but there is something immensely entertaining about seeing an audience member, maybe a family, who have taken their early teen child along to see a comedian when suddenly the material turn a deeper shade of blue. That said, the audience at Brighton Dome was, predominantly, of Skinner’s own vintage, a fact that he makes much of.

I hate reading reviews that relate plots of ruin gags, but I will never ever be able to smother a laugh when I hear the name Rinaldo and the words bacon fat and George Foreman Grill ever again.

Andrew Kay

2 November

Brighton Dome Concert Hall

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