Patrick Turpin: A Brother for Jonathan

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26 years old and handsome as hell, Patrick Turpin’s debut Fringe show begins in equally attractive fashion. Striding to the stage and expressionlessly eyeballing the audience, he bursts into the chorus of a well-known Elton John megahit. A dance, a shuffle, and we’re in business.

Except his next move isn’t quite so slick. He’s a little less certain of himself, it turns out, and he’s bought along a series of childhood photographs to help galvanise his set. In what’s become something of a hackneyed form, his projected pics reveal oddly little – heh, look at mum’s ridiculous bikini, don’t I look fat? and here I am as a young child holding my penis! It’s mediocre Best Man banter and it looks like it’s going to run out of steam fast.

But then Turpin pulls something special out of the bag. A gift. In its original, crumpled form, Turpin has brought with him a letter that his mum’s best friend wrote to him the day he was born. Because that’s what best friends do, right?

He well knows the comic potential of his letter—weirdly formal, overly graphic and idiotically sentimental—but boy does he work it well, interspersing his analysis with timely bursts of David Gray and coquettish asides. Suddenly, he feels like a comic on the crest of a wave and whilst his closing Photoshop montage is little less spectacular, by this point, there's been enough to save the show and provide a promising glimpse of the standup Turpin might yet become.