Geography comedy might be the hinterland of an already niche interest. Yet the main pleasure of Mark Cooper-Jones' enjoyable show is not so much in rescuing his subject from memories of stultifying education. Nor the ex-teacher's self-mockery in his passion for every varied aspect of it—though there's plenty of that—even if, amusingly, it's mingled with the palpable pride of a member of the Royal Geographic Society.
No, it's the interaction he enjoys with the audience, sending up the classroom dynamic with mischief and quick wit – an authority figure gone ever so slightly rogue. Unlike the PE supply teacher he occasionally was, Cooper-Jones rolls confidently with the crowd's responses, even to his fact-based assertion that England is responsible for the Highlands' great beauty. Seemingly secure in his vocation, he nevertheless feels the need to “accidentally” project his CV and some of his accomplishments behind him, with a life of privilege and high academic attainment rarely seeming so desperate.
There's a little bit of politics in his railing at modish modern teaching, which feels heartfelt. And while it's an easy target, he gets sustained laughs from his incredulity at the Flat Earth Society's stubbornness, a barbaric affront to his desire to inform. He even offers us a glimpse into his romantic life, though typically it's from the perspective of a field trip gone awry. Throughout, Cooper-Jones keeps his persona consistent, though this wide-ranging hour could probably benefit from a more tighty-focussed lesson plan.