There's actually something very attractive about Amée Smith's quixotic outing. A reaction to splitting up with her oafish comedian boyfriend, this is ostensibly an elaborate in-your-face to a feller whose feet, it took her five years to realise, are of the brittlest clay. Smith makes no pretence of the fact that she isn't a comedian – at least not until very recently. What she clearly is, though, is someone with seductive charisma and a massive tank of can-do.
But, no, not a comedian – at least not yet. As an hour of comedy, this is flimsy. By way of a gesture towards audience participation, I'm asked to note down topics or statements which are best left unshared. It's a useful, if unfortunate, notetaking device and I end up listing a series of routines which are underworked, clichéd, or just plain unfunny. Sure, Instagram is mostly used for pictures of food and selfies. And children's TV is weird. But you're really going to need to frack the hell out of these rocks to find any untapped comedy fuel. Smith does not bring the necessary equipment.
In a sense, her conclusion—"you can be the best version of you that you can be"—is spot on. Smith has done the hard bit and jumped in front of a microphone. If she set out to show that you can do anything you want to do, then job done. But as a working actor, she also knows that any art requires practice. There's definitely a better version of her comedy self in there, but it needs graft as much as will.