Nick Sun

Could somebody please get Nick Sun a valium because he is one angry man.

He swears and shouts a lot but fails to realize that adding copious amounts of expletives isn’t the answer for turning a shambolic set into comedy gold.

Sun trawls out a tired “You know what makes me mad?” Bill Hicks-esque tribute act routine, in a show that for all concerned should have ended about 45 minutes earlier. Sun seems like a comedian who has been blooded in a far tougher comedy circuit than the niceties of the Edinburgh Fringe can offer. He longs for confrontation from the crowd  but what he gets is claw your own eyes out awkward. Sun tries to engage one punter in a conversation on octogenarian sex, and for all Sun’s enthusiasm a few monosyllabic grunts are the most he musters from the crowd all night.

His finale is the shows highlight- and not just because it’s the end- but because of his brutal honesty. He knows that tonight has gone horribly wrong somewhere and urges the crowd to boo him as he crawls off stage.  Sun had promised a show without structure and perhaps that is his saving grace. Tonight, by his own admission was bad, but there were enough flashes to suggest that on his day and with the right crowd, he could deliver a slightly more coherent set.

At one stage he asks the audience ‘does it get any better?’ and for the sake of Sun’s comedy career you’ve got to say ‘I hope so’