She’s apparently the smallest comedienne in the country (although I don’t know if that counts that little Crankie drag prince). On stage she has bare feet and a big floppy bow in front (apparently she steals her clothes from kids when they’re running naked on the beach).

Lucy doesn’t have children – she says she hasn’t found the right nanny yet, which is good news for us cos it means that instead of cooing over the cradle she’s out at the Platform making the audience laugh its socks off. She works the crowd better than any conductor works an orchestra, a charismatic combination of sweetness and sharpness that fizzes like champagne.
Checking out one’ guy’s bulldog tattoo;
‘Did it hurt, Barry?’
‘Yes’
’I bet Barry cried like a girl, didn’t you Barry?’
Commenting in a warm, gentle tone to David the doctor, who had already been singled out by her support act,
‘You’re my bitch now, aren’t you David?’
And crossing boundary after boundary while chatting up the single one of the birthday twins.

I wish I could tell them like she does – then I could be a famous comedienne on the telly too. Last time she was in Lancaster for the comedy festival she was the funniest act of the lot (see the VL review) and she’s gone from strength to strength. She manages to do this without resorting to generic viciousness or trying to suck sections of the audience into collusive bigotry, thanks to a lightning reaction speed that takes whatever is around her and creates a witty perspective on it that lights up the inside of your head with joke after joke.

Top show, cheers Lucy.

Satori
23/2/06