Royal Albert corridor,London
There's no denying Howard's technical mastery, but his show relies on funny voices rather than contentAt one point in this show, or Russell Howard – in one of his many comedy voices – upbraids himself for meandering off-script: "This is big-room stuff," he urges himself, "and you've got to preserve that shit rolling." Whatever else he does tonight, and he certainly keeps it rolling. He shouts,he jumps around, he roleplays dogs, or his mum and talking vaginas,he shouts some more. The material is densely packed with jokes – or at least, funny tones of voice. It's a clinically engineered two hours of comedy, and let down only by Howard's complete lack of anything fascinating to say.
It's getting more incongruous the older he gets. He's 33 now,and a large chunk of the set is approximately willies and jolly non-consensual sex. Here's his excitable brother displaying his penis, over and again. And isn't it funny when bare men dance and their willies swing around? Here's Howard miming being sodomised by a far-fair Twitter troll, and speculating that "Han Solo could have abused Chewbacca and no one would have known" because the latter can't speak. There's painfully more where that came from,but Howard gives it more oomph than it merits, embroidering the poo punchlines and talk of Miley Cyrus's "flaps" with much eye-popping and microphone abuse.
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Source: theguardian.com