Joz Norris: Awkward Prophet

Joz Norris moonlights as a baby's party entertainer. And we can tell. At the start of Awkward Prophet we are greeted with bubblegum pop blaring through speakers and plastic props scattered throughout. He is dressed in brightly coloured patchwork layers and loose sweets abound.

There are moments when this goof factor feels fun. But more often than not we feel a bit like we've been locked in a toddler's playroom and there's no way out. And this toddler, a veteran of the celebrated London-based Weirdos Collective, wants to talk about love. Sort of.

Norris has truly solid material - in particular, a trinity of gaffes on an aquarium date earns laughs. But he dresses it up in a clownish wackiness that frankly feels rather creepy. This could well be a layered conceit: Halfway through Awkward Prophet we hit Norris's deep cuts, mostly revolving around his being stuck in a perpetual state of boyhood, an arrested development that handicaps his dealings with love and—crucially—sex. Either masterful or accidental, this insight into Norris's psyche begins to feel voyeuristic. And we've still got 25 minutes to go.

It's any comedian's prerogative to lead his or her audience into uncomfortable territory. But when we hit material about painful erections (from years of disuse), and tearful mid-snog panic attacks, Norris's ease starts to wobble. And no quantity of Hawaiian shirts can distract from it. By the end of Awkward Prophet we're desperate for one final bit of wackiness - which we get, in the form of a brilliantly executed apology to a ghost-shark.

Members of Weirdos like John Kearns have nailed that middle ground between peurile mischief and delicately observed, adult despair. And Norris isn't miles off it - he just might have some growing up to do.