Danny Deegan is Taller Than Jesus, More Visible Than God
Ill-conceived hour of underprepared material and unsavoury asides
As show titles go, Daniel could be setting himself up for a fall here. Especially when his hour has more than its (or the audience's) fair share of tumbleweed moments. Commentary on the art of festival flyering, or technical issues he has with this particular stage unsurprisingly doesn't do the job of charming his patient crowd.
By the time he starts with the Scottish stereotypes (tattooed, allergic to books, prone to setting people on fire) and girl crushes ('she likes footie so it was like going out with a mate: but with boobs!') things have gone a bit quiet out in the audience. A proper hush descends when he chats about a friend's Ugandan girlfriend, needlessly clarifying, 'but she's got a British accent and proper British mannerisms', before shoehorning in a bizarre mention of the Ku Klux Klan.
He struggles to recover after that: mediocre material about playing a prank on a friend who fell asleep while driving, or a stag-do where someone used the word 'coon' (yep, again with the ironic racism) are hardly endearing. Around the 40-minute mark he explains that comedians normally do something now to wake up their crowd, but he's got nothing, so we'll just have to stay focused. Nope, he's not the Messiah, he's a very naughty boy. And an underprepared one at that.
Just the Tonic at the Caves, until 28 Aug (not 15), 7.40pm, £5 or Pay What You Want.