Jim Smallman: Tattooligan

Never judge a book by its heavily tattooed cover. Inked and aware of how this appears to small children and mothers, Jim Smallman wants to explain himself.

Having cleaned up the Best Comedy Performance and Best International Show awards at the Hollywood Fringe 2010, and returning to Edinburgh after last year's acclaimed The Boy Next Door Gone Wrong, the stories come as naturally as if you were mates with the Leicester-born former alcoholic.

He commands the room with infectious enthusiasm–this likeability factor allowing him to get away with, for example, fairly intimate details that may otherwise be unsavoury. It also allows him to carry material that is patchy in places. Boy Next Door worked only when it was real and, while humour doesn’t always equal truth, with Smallman it really, really does.  

He’s at his best when at his most honest, and the misfires come as the line between reality and embellishment is blurred for humour's sake. His occasional tendency to rely on buildup can also soften the impact of a punchline that would be a lot more effective if delivered with less fanfare. This is, however, often overshadowed by sharp confessions from an undeniably talented comedian and gifted storyteller.

His ability to draw laughs from the darkest places is admirable, and Smallman on the whole delivers a tightly structured, self-deprecating hour tinged with an undercurrent of sadness. As everything comes together in the final, and murkiest, moments of the show, the lasting effect is that of genuine poignancy. Why? Because it’s real.