Assembly George Square Studios (Venue 17)
Sam has an extraordinary falsetto singing voice and gives Ave Verum laldy, as my gran would say, before stripping down to a cheerleader’s outfit and tumbling brunette curls.
He takes us by the tickly bits to a dystopian future, before doubling back and introducing us to his partner and new baby. This show repeatedly turns from light to dark in a single thought – from sticking a towel up his bottom and being a horsey to microwaving a toddler, from ridiculing his own “dodgy geography teacher head” to paedophiles, and from little old ladies to methadone mums.
The one thing I never realised about Simmons is that he is a phenomenally good stand-up.
All the years and all the accolades and all the prizes for all the props and he doesn’t actually need any of them. He is still the clown, but now he is playing with taboos instead of toys, thoughts in place of occasional furniture and ideas instead of spaghetti.
He plays with them and drops them just as quickly as he used to do with his stageful of stuff but his adroitness with words is in contrast to his marvellous clumsiness with things. From the 12-year-old Korean boy he has trapped inside him to his daughter’s vagina and from Bald Lives Matter to Hepatitis B and liver cancer, Simmons is as gloriously funny as he has ever been. Even when reading the phonebook.
Until 27 August. Today 9:40pm..