Ollie Horn’s Amsterdam Edinburgh Preview Happily Fails to Deliver…
Once a stand-up comedian starts doing routines about the worst gigs they’ve ever done, every bad gig becomes material. Therefore, I’d be very surprised if the Edinburgh preview he did in Amsterdam in June hasn’t found its way into Ollie Horn’s current show, Not Much, which is about exactly that: bad gigs. Not that the Amsterdam warm-up was bad exactly, but it was a weird one for sure.
In Edinburgh for most of August, Not Much…
It was a tiny bar, with no stage, but it still looked empty. Half of the handful of people who’d promised to come had not. We weren’t quite double figures. At least, not at first. But it was a show, and a show is a show. So the doors were closed and the comedian got on with his job.
Ollie Horn is clearly at home on the stage, even when there isn’t one, and he’s very likeable, and he’s funny. “I just vibe,” he says, and very often he gives that impression. But also, early on in Not Much, he goes dark, detailing some violent domestic encounter that took place in the worst week of his life, which, as it happens, was just last year. He’d just got to the bit about being urged to go into therapy when the first of the latecomers turned up, scratching at the front door and peering through the glass.
Once they were inside and seated and the interruption had been absorbed and overcome, he soldiered on. Then, just when he’d rebuilt a decent head of steam, the barman set about noisily pouring beers. It’s worth mentioning again, this was a tiny space — a walk-in closet for a D-list celebrity. Horn had asked the barman to wait till after the sad bit. He hadn’t waited. The spell was broken. Desperation spilled over. “Remember all that momentum we had?!”
Ollie Horn is not a cruel comic but when riled, he can do a good impression of one. But then, just as quickly, because it’s not really in him, he stopped shouting at the barman and bought a drink for the latecomer. Then we got going again.
Whatever it takes…
Horn has a bit about a gig in an Apple Store in San Francisco. “You might think this is a dodgy environment,” he said, referring to our pokey Pijp space, “but at least we’ve got a microphone and people facing in roughly the right direction. Stand-up comedy is not an artform that needs to be competing with….” He paused. Instinctively we followed his disbelieving gaze, till we were all facing in entirely the wrong direction. He addressed a new batch of latecomers — forty-minutes-latecomers — through the front door. “Are you here for the comedy show?” They were.
When it happened a third time, and with the show already running massively overlong, Horn suggested an interval for the processing of fluids. Which was appreciated, and appropriate, as it gave us a moment to ponder the fluidity of comedy itself, where missteps and fuck-ups are often some of the best bits. For comedy is life. And life is a beautiful mess.
Then, post-impromptu-interval, came Horn’s conspicuous admiration of Joe Pasquale, vilified comedy magpie and in Horn’s words, “the British Museum of stand-up”. While certainly not in the same ball-park as a Gary Glitter tribute act, hero-worshipping Pasquale is still a risky strategy. But Horn embraces the naffness of his position. As of course he must. As of course, we all must. Embrace the insanity with joy and alacrity, or else disappear forever into a pit of despair.
Bubbling under the surface of Not Much, there’s also material about self-control, self-actualisation, making the best of a bad situation, and fully immersing yourself in every moment. Which I liked very much. I liked all the emotional stuff. I liked the baring of the baring of the soul, with its echoes of James Acaster’s Cold Lasagne. And I liked the not quite wholehearted rejoinder to Stewart Lee’s rightful evisceration of Joe Pasquale in 90s Comedian.
Ultimately, there is much to like in Ollie Horn’s new show, so if you do happen to be in Edinburgh this month, Not Much is at The Mash House.
Check it out.
