Roisin Conaty: Destiny's Dickhead

Despite her burgeoning profile, proper TV exposure and a nice long Australian tour over the last 12 months, 2010's Fringe Best Newcomer is still pondering the path her life should take. She has at least moved out of her grandma’s house now, which is a shame in some respects as the old girl was great for material. Conaty remains very much single though, and thus something of a failure in the eyes of her peers. It's prime comedy fodder.

This show continues last year’s I’m-a-bit-of-a-goofball theme, which may suggest a lack of a plan B but is also testament to the wayward functionality of Conaty’s brain and the constant stream of awkward situations it throws up. There’s the utterly deficient sense of direction, for example, which makes storming off after an argument a bit difficult in unfamiliar surroundings, and thus leads to more of the toe-curlingly creepy behaviour that helped make last year’s show such a hit.

Conaty’s real appeal lies in the masochistic relish with which she rattles through these self-deprecating stories. Some soar, others fizzle out mid-flight, but she rambles on regardless, barely pausing for breath and clearly confident that her charisma will mask a multitude of structural sins. It does. Watching her perform is like getting nicely drunk with an old friend who’ll both make you laugh and feel a bit better about your own shortcomings along the way.

Destiny’s Dickhead won’t win any awards, but if its star manages to reach the venue on time each night, consider that a small victory.