Naz Osmanoglu: Exposure

"I'm a dick, and I have to live with that," Naz Osmanoglu announces. On the basis of this show, he seems to be coping just fine with it. It's a lazy and smug hour from someone who's earned the right to be neither. 

A descendent of the Ottoman Empire (and 17th in line to become the Head of the Imperial House of Osman), he doesn't represent your average lifestyle for a comic, but that doesn't stop him trying to convince you he's just a normal bloke. Tales of wanking, takeaways and misogyny make this a kind of modern gospel for Neanderthalic man-babies. It's the sort of show where every so often the puerility gives way for moments of contrived introspection: "So I've started dating again..." he segues, stroking the back of his head. If Exposure is his goal, then he's pulling out all the stops to achieve it. 

His delivery is polished, it must be said, and he has the comic timing you'd expect from someone who's frequented the TV circuit. Unfortunately his intonation takes away any subtlety in his delivery, pausing and placing emphasis at exactly the right moments so that the audience knows when to laugh. It makes the words he's saying almost redundant, with the punchlines arriving just when you'd expect them. The laughs are essentially instinctive reflex actions.

Any underdog perspective he tries to foster is undermined by just how pleased with himself he seems. He's got talent, but he's not using it for any worthwhile material.