A SHOW about procrastination seems a shrewd move for Tom Goodliffe, a comedian forever loping off on tangents that his clever gags and bumbling charm can’t return to the right track quickly enough. To call this a stop-start performance would be disingenuous, but the unwieldy theme, rigorously adhered to by his wide-ranging approach, starts to frustrate after a while.
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You have to admire the ambition and intelligence that prompts the diverse routines he reels off. And an hour of his sharpest wordplay, surreal musings on the month of February and contrived hip-hop physics references would be formidable indeed.
Unfortunately, the lack of coherence demands a lot from an audience and he’s invariably his own worst enemy. Self-deprecating to a fault and determined to chase an original conceit as far as he can, regardless of whether the crowd is coming with him, Goodliffe doesn’t do himself justice.
You can find comics without an iota of his wit attracting much bigger responses. I’m convinced it’s just a case of him finding a style that he can hang his smart stuff off, before he gets around to producing something brilliant.
Until tomorrow. Today 3:40pm.