Stuart Goldsmith: Prick

"It could be one of those shows," asserts Goldsmith from behind the curtain, hearing the raucous Saturday night crowd mid-way through his enjoyably long intro. "I like those kind of shows," he adds, before finally leaping forth, variously labelling a banter-hungry audience as either "bitches" or "bastards" (not necessarily along gender lines) as he patters out his opening exchanges. Those looking for deep and meaningful autobiographical comedy, we're told, are in the wrong place. Fans of "dick jokes", by contrast, have rolled in right on time.

It's an awful start. That's not because he doesn't stoke up his crowd: he's an energetic performer who has real chops when it comes to galvanising an audience. Rather, it's a bit of a coward's way in for a comedian who is genuinely more thoughtful than his dick joke schtick might belie. Take, for instance, the long routine he embarks upon relaying the tale of a hen party he went to with a group of lesbians. Culminating in a visit to a strip bar, the material has the latent watermark of a boorish, laddish tale. In reality, it's not. Sure there's plenty of smut, some of it gratuitous, but Goldsmith hauls in laughs from the most unexpected of angles – for instance taking great delight in roughing up those who view lesbians as an easy target for salacious gags. On occasion, Goldsmith relies repetitiously on favoured techniques—whispering into the mic, or providing multiple punchlines for the one joke—but, on balance, here is an engaging and interesting performer who sits well above the standard stand-up-and-tell-em fare.