Underbelly, Med Quad, Edinburgh
It’s the last few days of the Fringe and many acts are understandably beginning to feel a little bit jaded, but clearly, the affliction has completely bypassed Garrett Millerick. He stalks out onto the stage and launches himself headlong into a vitriolic set which is fuelled mostly by anger. Millerick is a grumpy sort. He seems to have a beef with just about everything and everyone, from the people who leave one star reviews on Amazon (for batteries!) to the supermarkets who have the cheek to charge five pence for a plastic bag. He even offers a routine about why Page Three is the least offensive thing in The Sun; you don’t necessarily agree with what he says, but you have to applaud the skill with which he puts his arguments together.
He is a confident performer, his voice ranging from a sly, conspiratorial hush to a ranting bellow and he soon has the early evening audience in the palm of his hand, eliciting plenty of well-earned laughter and let’s face it, that’s the name of the game here. He even apologises for not actually mentioning taxi drivers in the set and tells us about a guy who came up to him after a show and complained that the poster promised something that wasn’t delivered. ‘Are you a taxi driver?’ Millerick asked him. ‘No,’ replied the guy. ‘But I’m interested in taxis.’
We have no complaints about this assured set, which delivers on so many levels – it’s frank, visceral and occasionally controversial – but I’m not sure whether to tweet him a link to this review. After all, another of his pet hates is people who voice their opinions. What do you think? Should I?