Tommy Rowson: Down and Out in Powys and London

It’s a bad sign when Tommy Rowson kicks off his debut by furnishing a member of the front row with a shot of whisky. “Iechyd da,” he intones joylessly.

Down and Out in Powys and London is the work of a sharp mind dulled by a preoccupation with drinking and emotionally unsatisfying sex. The comedian searches for humour in the tawdry world he’s built for himself, but only succeeds in affirming its ugliness. Lacking Will Hodgson’s ability to imbue gritty tales of local characters with dignity and a sense of unspent potential, Rowson guides us through a mundane gallery of wasted lives. A recurring foil is routinely, witlessly mocked for being overweight, while at least two routines end with the comedian assaulting a love rival.

Even more off-putting than the man’s apparent inclination toward physical violence are repeated references to an ex-girlfriend that make Robin Thicke’s psychotic attempts to scare and ultimately win back his estranged wife seem tactful by comparison. Using her reasons for breaking up with him as a tenuous springboard for his thoughts on City of London spivs, Jesus and, at a real low point, Romany people, the comedian gives no indication that 'Rhian' consented to the dubious honour of occupying a place in this show.

There’s no denying that Rowson knows how to construct a satisfying turn of phrase and that he cuts an assured, confident figure on stage. What promise he shows is unfortunately dwarfed by the desperation and banality of his material.