Izzard doesn’t really do jokes. He’s from the stream-of-consciousness-rambling school of stand-up comedy. Where the timing and delivery is way more important than the subject matter itself. A comedian who specialises in the art of taking the audience off on wild tangents before eventually returning full circle to deliver a punchline. And for the most part, that works just fine.
The only danger is that a lot of his material is so absurd, and delivered at such a frenetic pace, you need to be sufficiently on form and sharp yourself to ensure the really good stuff doesn’t get lost in the wash. And while his multilingualism is a definite asset and a major plus at times, his frequent transitioning between English, French, and German, was, on this occasion, perhaps a little too random, and I found myself struggling to keep up.
We got all of the regular Izzard touchstones: an hilarious reframing of history, religion and god, ice cream, dogs, superheroes, and naturally, politics - with references to Brexit, Trump, and parallels drawn between the rise of 1930s-style fascism and today’s current political climate. All a rich source of mirth and humour. Sort of … the last part, not so much.
He talked a little bit about his life as a child, about being gender fluid, about the recent loss of his father, about his ongoing political ambitions, and about his incredible marathon-running feats: “it’s ninety percent mental and the other ten percent is in your head” …
Admittedly, I failed to fully grasp his post-encore closing salvo, his “theory of the universe”, but that hardly mattered. It was me, Eddie, not you.
It was a fun night, and if Izzard ever does fulfil those political goals, I’m quite sure he’s going to need every last bit of that manic sense of humour just to survive. Just as I’m sure he’ll be a great success, and the rare breath of fresh air that UK politics - indeed, global politics - needs right now.
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