Seann Walsh: Seann To Be Wild

Seann Walsh is like a sexy fan-fiction spin-off of Michael McIntyre. He refracts similar mannerisms and material through an attractive figure of a shaggy-haired Brighton blonde. The telly regular's fame has even been bolstered by his viral impression of McIntyre and can only grow.

 Like his contemporary, Walsh bounds back and forth across the stage throughout Seann To Be Wild as if completing an observational comedy bleep test, at each end hitting typical topics in impressively original ways. A vajazzle jibe, despite drawing applause, is unrepeatable for its overhashed subject matter.

The challenge of rendering tired material interesting seems the source of Walsh’s energy. When the show’s underlying theme of his own binge drinking hijinks kicks in, it also lags. A taxonomy of vomits and drunken dances doesn’t build to the same comic crescendo as a more generic evening out in a restaurant does.

Yet his delivery remains wonderfully spontaneous; a bombast undercut by vulnerability that means whenever anyone pops out for a piss he pursues them like a needy child. 

Walsh is also a physical comedian, mastering the ‘show don’t tell’ school of narrative in ways that show the audience themselves up. Impressions of subconscious reactions to smoke alarms, snooze buttons, and bus seating arrangements are so unsettlingly familiar you may fear for your own individuality. 

But Walsh becomes swaggeringly sure of his targets as the show continues. When a final Jägerbomb gag is more brash than accurate he doesn’t appear to notice. Those enamoured by his stadium charm may not too.