It's more or less guaranteed that you'll leave this show feeling hungry. If not because a significant amount of Matthew Crosby's show revolves around the culinary delight that is Nandos, then because this debut lacks bite.
Diminutive and charming Crosby, or "Crozzers" as he occasionally labels himself, has winsome wiles a plenty, like a more studenty and male version of Lucy Porter. Despite his personable nature, however, this debut solo show offers little more than some hit-and-miss, self-indulgent riffs on his propensity for all that makes him either a geek or a nerd, or both.
The 31-year-old begins his skittish journey with a sketchy portrayal of his early life, complete with the inevitable embarrassing childhood photos, and by way of contrived references to Darwin, who also hailed from Crosby's home borough of Bromley.
The audience are tickled and bemused in equal measure, and their involvement proves to be both kill and cure. On the downside Crosby has to negotiate his way past a woman who rightly points out that Crosby's—albeit slight—frame hides the words and images on the large screen behind him. Later Crosby admonishes some ladies on the back row for chatting, coaxing one to explain the disturbance: "We're just amazed you've got a girlfriend."
It's not all about barracking the new boy. On the plus side, a Torchwood fanatic nicely illustrates the extent to which geekery can go, but this effusive gentleman was a fortunate find in a show already riding its luck.