Aug 25-27 (21:30)
Material: Delivery: Laughs:
The shipping-container-cum-21st-century-comedy-space, Pleasance That, was brimful with Friday night revellers, all waiting for our comedian to land inside & let laughter splash into the air. With the audience spread out in a feminine delta, our alpha male strutted inside the womb-room beaming confidence. Who was this fine fellow? Well, he was just about to embark upon an hour answering that very question. For a start, the nimble-witted joke-wizard that is Rob Holland is only 23, but he’s already sounding professionally articulate. Born in the Nineties, nurtured in the Naughties, & blossoming in his debut Now, Rob is a philosopher-poet who postulates like the banner-bearer of a new wave of comedy about to erupt from the Millennial fountain.
The highest summits of Rob’s range were his spirited dalliances with tonal prose poetry, chaunted over tracks like David Gray’s Babylon. He is a natural poet, & they are soooo good, that when he reverts to his, albeit pretty decent, comedy patter; a part of you is anticipating the next ‘performance’ as if we were queuing up at Disneyworld or summat. Still, that’s not really a criticism, its just an observation that to experience Rob doing his performance poetry is like seeing a rainbow-coloured balloon rapidly inflated, so totally brilliant are his room-warming pieces.
Overall, Rob is an erudite phraseologist with a sabre-rattling dash. He does have a couple of flaws, however, like dissing my fuckin’ home town of Burnley for one. Perhaps it was unintentional, but when doing comedy in Scotland, it is better etiquette to dis either Edinburgh or Glasgow depending on your location at the time. An Englishman reinforcing the Daily Mail Tory mindset this far north by mocking underprivilege through the medium of attempted humour is best left out of the set.
But Rob is definitely getting there, there’s a lot of good stuff swirling about, & as he opens up his life the guy we’re getting to know seems a sassy addition to the circuit. I did observe a marked hypersensitivity to room temperature & the mood-sways of the audience, which does need to be eradicated for him to progress. The show is all & he is our glorious juggernaut. For me, the 23-year old Rob feels like a talented lieutenant in the Light Horse Artillery – he knows he should be in the Heavy Cavalry proper, but he hasn’t quite earned his spurs. Time & a couple more arduous Fringe campaigns will earn him a change of regiments, I am sure.