(seen at the performance on 23rd April 2023)
Fans of Rob Beckett and Josh Widdicombe and in particular of the podcast on which this is based can stop reading now. You will love the show and the pair do brilliantly. Please do not read any further.
Theatremonkey opinion.
The monkey booked this show based partly on the sharpness of Beckett and Widdicombe on “Mock The Week” and partly because it truly admires Beckett in particular for refusing to accept being written off at a young age by teachers and going on to a superb career. A story the monkey identifies with.
The monkey also knows a little about comedy, having a keen interest and being lucky enough to live through many of the changes. The old variety theatre stars, those who worked the Northern Club circuit, the second Comedy Store and on to the current world of YouTube and sudden cancellation.
And that is the problem. Today’s comedy for the most part cannot be about anything that somebody might take offence at loudly enough to ruin the comic’s career and deprive them of an income.
Further, politics is probably beyond satire at the moment and with very few recognisable names the chances of public connection are limited.
The easiest option is thus the route Beckett and Widdicombe take here – to focus on themselves, letting each other (and video interviews with their wives) make jokes about their lives and bodies. When that is exhausted, let the public text in stories to read out. Again, totally safe – nobody can complain about their own choice to exploit their own lives.
Adding to this mix, both men mostly perform short set comedy – 20 minutes at most outside of the odd full-length show, and even more are panel-show specialists where fast barbs are the mainstay. Two hours is a stretch in a vast space, and Wembley Arena is just that.
What results is a patchy night of two men laughing at old photographs and film of each other, scoring endless easy points off misspeaking and inviting a couple from the audience to lay on a bed for the evening before giving them vouchers for a trip to Paris, presumably standard class from Gatwick (in-joke on the night).
There is no original writing as such, the structure being loose enough that once the format is in place it is not really required. It isn’t laziness, just the style of the era. Put another way, the monkey expected routines about their experiences of parenthood, filtered through the sharp observational eye both possess. That just did not happen. In fact, parenthood itself barely featured beyond laughing at the experiences of others.
Special guest star Jonathan Ross brings a touch of old-style timing to proceedings, some crude material delivered with panache connecting audience and stage without watchers being truly aware unless they, like the monkey, noticed the volume of laughter increase significantly in that segment.
To fill nearly four-fifths of Wembley Arena at the end of a national tour is an achievement. For those who enjoy this style of comedy, this is probably a good example. Those seeking something a little more may leave a little disappointed.
2 stars.