This article is from 2009.
Brash comic’s storytelling mash-up
Justin Moorhouse kicks off his show by taking issue with a review from last year’s Fringe that likened him to a cross between Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown and Coldplay. It’s hard to see the comparison between the drippy bleeding heart liberal rockers and Moorhouse, who is unashamedly non-PC. It’s harder, though, to accept him being hurt by the comparison to the foul-mouthed Geordie comic
Moorhouse’s new show is built around the idea, lifted from film theory, that there are seven basic stories to be told: comedy, tragedy, the quest, the hero’s return, etc. Each narrative archetype provides Moorhouse with a jumping off point, from which he takes a giant leap into a series of stream-of-consciousness rants about, variously, though by no means comprehensively, dwarves, sex, Salford, bankers, the recession and those infernal Fringe critics. Moorhouse can certainly hold a crowd, partly through his breathless, high-decibel delivery and partly through his liberal heckling of audience members. I’ll wager he could beat ‘Chubby’ Brown at his own game. And, for the record, Moorhouse is much funnier.
Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 30 Aug, 9.40pm, £10–£11 (£8.50–£9.50).