Nick Helm: This Means War

"I'm not sure if you heard... But I had a really good Edinburgh last year. But it's so hard. It's so emotionally draining."

Nick Helm is upset. Last year's Edinburgh Comedy Award nominee has hit a wall. His show has collapsed in on itself in a shambolic heap. But everyone's laughing. Everything's going to be okay. As far as follow-up show's go, Helm has produced a rock-solid hour of loud, boistrous and aggressive comedy that more than satisfies his expectant audience.

The raucous anarchy he brings to the stage is infectious. We're barely five minutes in before he has the entire audience—every single person—on their feet, pumping their fists and chanting "Helm! Helm! Helm!" Admittedly, he's forced us to do it; berating us, screaming in the faces of those who aren't on board. 

This audience interaction builds to a crescendo as he drags a single member of the crowd out on stage, sits him in a chair and proceeds, over the course of the next forty-minutes, to ritually humilate him. Only, this is Nick Helm, and he may be loud, but he's not cruel. The real target of Helm's abuse is himself, treading the line between hilarious and excruciating. 

This is a raucous, genuinely funny show, but if there's one criticism to be made it's that Helm's narrative theme—his equating relationships with war—is not fully realised. It's a strand consistently played to, but not satisfyingly concluded. Nevertheless, this is an anarchic, hilarious hour from an anarchic, hilarious comic.