James Dowdeswell: My Grandad Was a Clown and Those Are Big Shoes to Fill

Good comedy benefits from good ideas. So James Dowdeswell's central conceit—the discovery that his great grandfather, William Roakley, was a semi-famous music hall performer—is a nice choice, not least because Mr Roakley seems like an interesting chap. A colleague of Charlie Chaplin, Roakley began performing aged four, developing into an all-singing, all-dancing all-rounder. In My Grandad Was a Clown... Dowdeswell plots a parallel course, comparing Roakley's talent and career to his own.

But while there are some nice ideas in here, it rarely feels anything more than half-baked. Rather than serving as a strong narrative arc upon which jokes are hung throughout, the theme is padded with ordinary material. His finale—a music hall-style routine—hints at clever ideas about performance and the extent to which it is or isn't historically bound. But the actual execution is weak, and you get the impression that Dowdeswell has spent more time coming up with a good concept than he has on the show's substance. 

Dowdeswell is a thoroughly pleasant performer. Slightly nerdy and not afraid to mock himself for it, his friendly natterings are pitched nicely for the afternoon slot. But he never quite capitalises on the small space to create the intimate atmosphere this sort of storytelling requires. There's never any real warmth towards his famous relation, and never any sense of jeopardy as to whether young James will, indeed, fill those big shoes. On the basis of this year's show, he has some growing to do.