Dommett and Lampaert

It's almost 15 minutes into Joel Dommett and Eric Lampaert’s double-header before you realise they’re yet to showcase any pre-prepared material, and at least another five before they see fit to do anything about it. Fortunately, they offer more than enough goofy charisma and spontaneous horseplay to keep tonight’s audience satisfied.

When Dommett gets round to his solo segment, it’s largely anecdotal fare delivered with theatrical incredulity. Flashes of benign obscenity crop up as he embarrasses both himself and the 13-year-old in the second row, while his enthusiasm adds colour to a tale of dire experimental Fringe theatre. It strikes a chord with a weary mid-festival audience and keeps momentum high for the arrival of his co-star.

Lanky and flamboyant, French-born Lampaert cuts a distinctive and pleasingly gawky figure. His gently absurd meditations on superheroes, bullying and his multilingual upbringing are rendered as scrappy one-man scenes full of showy shifts into foreign tongues, each with a faint whiff of Izzard about it.

In the end it’s the duo’s boyish horseplay that sticks in the mind – not their sound-but-superficial gags, which feel like a formality amid their lively shared stage time. Though the rapport they build with the crowd marks them out as natural comperes, the show’s imbalance grants them little opportunity to substantiate what looks like a great deal of potential. Though technically fairly flimsy, this is exactly what you want from the young and the feckless: gusto, affability and the ability to whip up an air of playful havoc.