Testiculating (Waving Your Arms Talking B*ll*cks)

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In one of his rare moments of focus, Eric Lampaert introduces the concept of "neurotica": standard issue, 50 Shades-style smut punctuated with psychological fixations and modern anxieties. Sexual neuroses are certainly no new concept in standup, but this well-constructed bit provides a glimpse into the show we would have loved to see: one of raw honesty, thematic coherence, and actual fully-structured jokes. Instead, Testiculating is a palsied, themeless stew of anecdote and observation. (The "-al comedy" has been omitted intentionally.)

An earnest list of show rules, including "don't be late" and "don't heckle", precedes an unstructured and unflowing list of life's strangenesses, including death certificates and phonemics. There is a distinct lack of attention to adding punchlines to these observations, to the effect that they stand on their own only as they would coming from the mouth of a charismatic dinner party guest. When we reach the more personal topics of his experiences with psychotherapy and homelessness we're eager for some kind of skewing that might lend insight, as is crucial to the craft of comedy (right?). We get none of this, except a vague sense that somewhere in his chaotic attempt at narrative, Lampaert does indeed have an interesting story to tell. 

In his defense, Lampaert rolls well with the punches. He is both seasoned and likeable, and his audience involvement is thoughtful, without feeling like the time-wasting ploy it so often is. Regardless, by the time he plays himself off with a song about racism (apropos of very little), we're desperate for the downstairs bar.