They might be giants, and they're definitely tall
There's a Jurassic Park moment on the approach as the ground starts shaking and concentric rings appear in the pints of the wary audience… and then they arrive: the three aptly-titled Giants of Comedy. Compering by the comparatively short and extremely generous James Gill keeps things rolling as the audience welcome the first of these pylons amongst people to the stage.
Lindsay Sharman is utterly delightful. And funny. Very funny. The cheeky giantess manages to endear even hardened skinheads and tired bar staff to her witty take on life as an unemployed female in tall lane. Whilst you'll never look at plums in the same way again, there's a chance you'd come back for second helpings of Sharman at least. She's so likeable you would take her home if she actually fitted in the suitcase. Or a car. So it comes as somewhat of a shock when self-confessed sex tourist and faecal obsessive Leo Kearse takes the spotlight after Gill's interlude. Very dirty, occasionally shocking, but eliciting the guilty pleasure of laughter from a wide-eyed audience and managing to be edgily likeable. He may not be boyfriend material, so don't bring your mother, but you'd probably want to take him on holiday if you were going to Thailand and have fond memories of the Fonz.
And the tallest of them all, Mr Darren Walsh, proves that being tall has nothing to do with anything. It's being let out on day release that counts. His is a loud dose of healthy surreality that keeps you on yours toes and at the back of your seats. Part man, part cartoonist, part acapella musician – there's something for everyone, whether you want it or not – he's a loud and refreshing newcomer that you might want to see before they take him away again. So, united by height if not by material, the three merrily play their turn at Fingers for the full duration of the festival. Three giants walked into a bar. It had a low doorway.
Fingers Piano Bar, 7:50pm–8:50pm, until 27 Aug