Terry Alderton

The bulk of this show is taken up with the things Terry Alderton, a bald comedy goblin with a sick grin, can do with his voice. Some of them are extraordinary. We're treated to impressions of an icon of alternative comedy (fantastic), Americans (so-so), a handicapped version of a celebrity chef (awkward), and a helicopter (very impressive; baffling). 

The stream of impersonations is broken up by the numerous callbacks and gags that develop throughout the show, a similarly sporadic parade of daft jingles, nonsense quiz questions and, most memorably, the repeated appearance of an irate Father for Justice. 

It's all nice and anarchic enough, but what lifts Alderton far above the level of a humdrum impersonator is the schizophrenic stage persona he's developed in the last year or so. Every so often he'll turn away from the audience, hunch over the mic and give voice to his two alter-egos, who make unreasonable demands of him.

“You must kiss that man!” growls the first, referring to someone in the front row; “Yes – kiss him!” wheedles the second. When Alderton returns to us he's baffled, unsure why the punter has become so alluring. It's a play on a familiar device (the voices sound like Gollum and Smeagol), but press-ganged into the service of comedy it turns Alderton's act into something original and joyfully unpredictable, and ensures that while this is a somewhat hit-and-miss hour of comedy, it's never dull.