


22/02/24
Edinburgh Playhouse
I can’t complain: I get exactly what I pay for. “Hecklers Welcome” is written right there in big letters. Forewarned is forearmed and all that. But still, I leave the Edinburgh Playhouse tonight feeling disappointed and frustrated. James Acaster might welcome hecklers. It turns out that I don’t.
This show is Acaster’s response to his lockdown realisation that he wasn’t enjoying doing stand-up. That icky feeling waiting in the wings? Not excitement, after all – just nerves. And the audiences, peppered with hecklers and latecomers? They were getting under his skin. Emerging into the post-COVID landscape, the serenity prayer seems to have been his inspiration.
Accept the things he cannot change: hecklers gonna heckle.
So find the courage to alter what he can: his own response.
It’s an interesting social experiment. He’s got more than two hours of finely-crafted material; we can hear it if we want to. It’s all down to our collective will. Sadly, tonight’s three-thousand-strong crowd has more than its fair share of dickheads. I know from social media that there were barely any hecklers yesterday, and that the show ran on until 10.20pm. This evening, the shouter-outers dominate the second half with their inanities. This is why we’re not allowed nice things. Acaster bows out gracefully at 9.45pm.
The first half of the show is as excellent as you’d expect. Acaster is a huge talent, and this show is a fascinating exploration of his love-hate relationship with comedy – an origins-tale, if you like – examining formative experiences such as school assemblies, disastrous dog shows and cub scout membership. It’s all building nicely…
And then: “Poppodoms or bread?” “You’re using the wrong hand!” “It was a Friday!”
Ad infinitum.
They’re like rubbish graffiti artists scrawling their names over a beautiful building. I’m seething. Shut the fuck up.
Acaster takes it in his stride. That’s the rule. It’s only our own time we’re wasting. He’s a five-star comic, but this is a three-star experience. We never get to hear the denouement. Sometimes, other people suck.
3 stars
Susan Singfield