This article is from 2006.
Even if he didn’t have two gags to rub together, Michael McIntyre would still be one of those naturally funny performers. Baby-faced with the Cheshire Cat’s grin and the cut glass voice of a Hollywood villain, the performer’s rubbery physicality and multi-octave voice are a big part of his appeal. You get the impression he has a great comedy index stored in his head, filed from A-"Z, which he mentally rifles through for gags appropriate to whoever he’s got in the audience on any given night. This leads the comic down various blind alleys, digressing into tangents, chopping and changing routine, often in mid-sentence. Happily his comic timing’s spot on, while the jokes in his arsenal mostly strike home.
On the night in question he provides an outsider’s observations on the Scottish parliament (particularly the anomaly of the £400m building’s defences against terrorist attacks being constructed from bamboo) before launching into tirades about house husbands, cheesy Italian waiters and mobile phones. Just don’t get him started on the phenomenon of busybody drivers phoning radio stations to warn of traffic jams. (Allan Radcliffe)
Pleasance Dome, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 14), 8.20pm, £10-£11 (£9-£10).