CityLife

MOST kids, at some point or other, have put on a performance for their family and friends - whether it be little Edie's endless twirling in a pink tutu fashioned out of birthday wrapping paper, or Sidney Junior's interpretation of the Rambo film he shouldn't have seen round Uncle Pete's house the previous weekend. Last night (Sunday) at The Lowry must have felt reminiscent of one of those childhood performances for Mancunian Chris Addison who was rounding off a short, seven-date tour in his home conurbation. Inevitably, there were going to be a lot of people he knew and/or shared DNA with, in the room. Proud Ma and Pa were in attendance; former Manchester Grammar schoolmates were present (indeed there were a couple of mentions of former teachers just for them) as were the parents of his godchildren who take a starring role alongside the Millennium Eye in a routine halfway through the gig. Unbelievably busy Addison’s been unbelievably busy of late ,writing his and Carl Cooper’s (who was also there) sitcom, Lab Rats, filming the Thick of It movie in the States and writing a book about the distribution of blame - It Wasn’t Me. Consequently he’s not written a new stand up show since 2005. However, itching to back in the car and on the road (or even on the coach if his opening routine is to be believed… ) and with more people knowing who he is thanks to telly appearances in the likes of The Thick of It and Lab Rats, he decided to do a short run of greatest hits style shows. The material was cherry-picked from his stand up sets, past Edinburgh shows and those that were committed to radio series - The Ape That Got Lucky and Civilisation. Whether you’d heard the gags before was irrelevant, it still proved as mint and funny performed afresh by Addison while flinging his gangling frame about the stage. Man in a fez He opened almost unsure of where to start in the plethora of material on offer ,selecting the games you invent when travelling on motorways with the kids, “don’t speak until you see a man in a fez,” and his classic Daily Mail rants. He also took the rare opportunity to express his regret to a room of northerners that the south (where he now lives) just don’t do parkin – we were shocked, I tell you. The second half took much from his always acclaimed, often award-nominated and sometimes award-winning full-length shows. Here there was plenty of evidence of Addison’s distinctive style - intelligent, informative research followed up by a supremely silly joke. Attracted a giant monkey On evolution he notes that we share 98 per cent of DNA with chimpanzees, unsurprising considers Addison, as ‘after a hard day’s shifting pianos we both like a nice cup of tea.’ Elsewhere, there are musings on why the builders of the World Trade Centre should have learnt from experience that tall buildings entice trouble as ‘last time the Empire State building attracted a giant monkey’. And how most of the greatest innovations were invented by accident such as the chair turning out to be a handy thing to sit on after it was created to fend off lions. Ah, how we’ve missed him. Don’t leave it so long next time, will you?

BYRNE'S latest show is entitled Different Class. This is largely because he was musing class strata when he had to choose a title for his new show’s debut outing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August. You see, you have to pick a title for the show for submission in the all important festival brochure a full four months beforehand. There are very few comedians that have the foggiest what they’re going to write about that far in advance. If they do, it invariably will have changed by the summer anyway. As Byrne himself pointed out to CityLife, though this fact excused him from only having based a portion of his latest show on his ponderings on class while he was in Edinburgh, the explanation doesn’t really wash when you head out on tour. Still, you know now anyway. Not to worry as a chunk of the show does still concern where you sit on the social ladder, but to have only concentrated on class would have meant ignoring a comedic gift of an experience he had this year (one wrapped in shiny tiny horseshoe patterned paper) - the planning of his wedding. But more of that later. Byrne has reached the grand milestone of 36, an age he can recall his own father being so inevitably it has turned his thoughts back to his upbringing. His father was a sheet metal worker and his mother lectured, so Byrne’s a confusing bit of both the working and middle classes. However his pikey status is thankfully reassured by his admission to having owned a big telly, his aversion to ski-ing and eating of a pheasant (posh) that had crashed into the patio doors (not posh). Mellowed There are moments in the show where age appears to have mellowed Byrne’s trademark rage. But the funnies are still there, effortlessly showcasing his skill with the gag call back - particularly in regard to his routine about thinking of the clever retorts you should have said at the time but only think of much later on. His gleeful cruel streak is also still evident in the killer punch line of a tale of an inappropriate tracksuit sported by an 11-year-old girl he spotted at an airport. Despite having clocked up many years of experience in comedy, his enjoyment and the ease with which he plays with words and images shows through. While pretending to be on the phone with his dad he playfully deconstructs his mime with real warmth for the process. Later the anger fully rears in his telling of planning a wedding with £1,700 wedding invites and matching ties and shoes. It makes you want to book in at Gretna or just not bother and live over the brush instead. Though there’s added entertainment watching the couple sat in front take sheepish glances at each other checking to see if the other is laughing. To reassure us that he has made the right decision, Byrne rounds off with some heartfelt comments about his new wife without becoming sickly sweet as they are largely tempered by relaying examples of her equally wicked sense of humour. What did you think? Have your say.

SEEING Jason Manford up on the Apollo stage gazing out at a capacity crowd of two and half thousand, the 18-year-old lad from Whalley Range who won the City Life Comedian of the Year competition in 1999 with 10 minutes of material seems very far away indeed. That may be nine years ago and the set has got much longer, the storytelling slicker and the life experience richer but there’s still that telltale charm that won round the competition judges. Performing both sections himself, there’s no support here, the show is a mixture of old and new material. Manford is a master of observational comedy, the choice of topics aren’t groundbreaking in their originality but that hardly matters as it’s the everyday that people recognise. Cheeky charisma Add to that that his routines are invested with quirks of the imagination, are effortlessly funny and imbued with that trademark cheeky charisma. All sides of his life are drawn from; there’s an early routine about being mugged on the streets of Whalley Range, the amount of driving he does now out on the road he’s passed his test after failing six times and most recently his life with his new wife. Subtle observations of human nature are par for the course, such as how you always think you’re the best driver and everyone else on the road is an idiot, the apparently stubborn man who still lives in the house in the middle of the M62 and there are some beautiful descriptions of the methods his dad used to keep his sons in line as kids. TV exposure On being recognised, Manford notes that it doesn’t often happen but that a man in the city centre once stopped him to inquire, Are you Jason Manford? Yeah, replied Manford chuffed, ‘I work with your Dad, say hello from me.’ With the amount of TV exposure he has been getting in the last few months on 8 Out of 10 Cats and Tonightly, his anonymity is surely not going to last much longer. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the gigs on his tour are the capacity of this hometown gig at the Apollo.