Patrick Monahan Cake Charmer

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Patrick Monahan seems like a nice guy. So nice, in fact, that on one of his numerous tangential witterings, one tries very hard not to acknowledge that his routine consists of almost no material. But after 10 more minutes of his own faux laughter, nostalgia trips with a front row friend and asking at least 50 audience members whether they’re single, the lack of actual content in his set becomes impossible to ignore.

His entrance, for example—a lively skip ‘n’ cuddle through the audience—is fine at first, but goes on for so long that this routine more closely resembles a late night hug-a-thon. The audience have paid to be entertained, not held in the arms of an errant Teessider, and this preposterously lengthy intro only sets the tone for this hour of comedy-less comedy.

Cake Charmer doesn’t so much incorporate audience interaction as rely solely upon it. There are perhaps two or three anecdotes spread woefully thin over the course of the hour: the rest of the time is devoted to bland parlances with the 10-year-olds in the crowd. These petite participants do not—and of course should not be expected to—tickle the audience, but they often seem to be the comedian’s sole resource.

This show is just befuddling. Did Monahan forget to write jokes this year? Or does he just prefer to wing it? He might think everything is ‘fantastic’—a word he repeats hundreds of times throughout the night—but this set is anything but.