Comedy review: Jon Richardson: Funny Magnet, Glasgow Garage

IN A bad mood “95 per cent of the time”, bitter old man in a young man’s body Jon Richardson’s hatred of humanity goes way beyond his professional obligation.

In a world where Roman Abramovich, John Terry and stupid Americans reign supreme, he’s forsaken all efforts to eliminate racism, sexism and inequality in favour of making cheeky quips at Christmas family dinner and corrupting his mother’s innocence.

His relentlessly grim view of society, reinforced with incredulous anecdotes of new age lectures he’s attended on chakras and tantric yoga (which you could dismiss as the cynical, material-seeking missions of the jobbing stand-up if the desperate search for happiness and contentment weren’t such recurring tropes in his shows), are the chief ingredients of an upbeat first half, at least relatively speaking.

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Post-interval, this “vicious little pixie” from Lancaster makes his critique more personal. One of Richardson’s most attractive qualities as a stand-up is his commitment to revealing just how unattractive a personality he can be. He doesn’t want you to like him, so much as he needs you to agree with him – mature adults shouldn’t consume breakfast cereal in the evening. Two stand-out routines are the anally-retentive grouch’s epic account of simmering with rage at his flatmates’ washing-up routine, and his intense observation of a commuter eating an apple. There are times when the misanthropy and self-criticism threaten to get a bit overwhelming. But Richardson always gives you the sense that while he’s still performing comedy, he hasn’t quite give up on love and humanity just yet.

Rating: ****