Mark Watson: Flaws

Mark Watson’s tenth Fringe show starts on rather poignant footing. The days of getting ID’d for his own show are long gone. At 34, Watson has come to recognise and celebrate his flaws, so often accentuated by the nervous energy he continues to pump out in this year’s show. Over the decade, Watson really has perfected his craft: he understands his audiences, can tease out anything from dispersed applause to roaring belly laughs. In Flaws, this is particularly apparent.

Watson leads us on broadly-observed journeys that are made all the more hysterical because of his loveable creepiness. He talks about the problems that now challenge him in his life as a thirtysomething: raising a young daughter who asks him every question under the sun or rifling through his wallet for the correct change at the post office. It’s all fairly quotidian.

But when Watson talks about his real neuroses and anxieties, ones that derailed him for large periods over the last couple of years, his comedy enters more evocative dimensions. He drank a lot. For comedians, this isn’t new. But Watson started to need it in ways that began to define who he was. And from this, Watson reveals part of who he is today, weaving it in with tales of the banal to really stir the audience. He hasn’t made any of this up, he tells us, it’s just easier to have a shit life and then report back. Thankfully for us, Watson is hilarious en route.