Jason Byrne No Show

The Norwich Arts centre has a long standing reputation for punching well above its size when delivering comedy, hosting countless innovative performers - Elf Lyons, Andrew(s) O' Neill and Maxwell, Simon Munnery all immediately spring to mind. While it's been a privilege to see these acts in such intimate surroundings I guess it’s a simple matter of economics that bigger acts need bigger spaces, and so while the Arts Centre and Epic Studios may not seem obvious bed fellows, the provision of a bigger room for the audiences the NAC attracts is actually a pretty exciting development for Norwich. It's a partnership that looks to be going from strength to strength judging by the crowd Jason Byrne attracted, albeit one used to seeing him at the Playhouse. Packed with repeat customers - you could almost imagine him calling an attendance register - the evening felt very much like the gathering of the clan, albeit one unused to venturing down to Magdalen Street.

A few years ago, Ian Roberts, a little known comic from Preston, took his "Nothing Show" to Edinburgh. Shunning the official programme, he relied entirely on hand written fliers explaining that his show contained nothing, and advised punters not to bother turning up. He was, perhaps, relying on counter intuitive curiosity to draw a crowd, but ignored by public and critics alike there is now little evidence - ironically almost nothing - that the show ever happened. I can't help but wonder if Jason Byrne, an Edinburgh regular, bumped into Roberts on the Royal Mile, and something about the concept stuck in his mind. You might have thought so from the teasing description of this show. We were, after all, promised "a show with no comedy safety net. By the end of No Show you’ll have experienced a once in a lifetime show or No Show. Jason, along with the audience, will begin No Show with no show whatsoever."

Now this was a fib, and if Jason Byrne wasn't such a likeable and funny fellow, I'd be well within my rights to be a tad cross that what drew me to the show had all the substance of snake oil. We all know that modern stand up requires the suspension of disbelief - it works best when the audience indulges in the conceit that the comic is making it up as he goes along - that they are a natural wit rather than someone "merely" tell jokes. It's an artifice brilliantly deconstructed in Stewart Lee's book on the subject, explaining how he, for example, will deliberately tell a weak joke so he can “spontaneously” criticize his audience for not laughing. At the other end of the scale, Ross Noble has a reputation for genuinely making it up as he goes along, but see him twice on the same tour, and you'll quickly be disabused of the notion.

The idea of Jason Bryne actually doing it for real - entering the arena with no show - was too thrilling an opportunity to pass up. The evening started as I hoped it would go on, which some jolly banter between performer and audience. The front row proved a brave place to sit, though his interrogation was so sweetly done, the mother and daughter Irish contingent had little to fear from his gentle leg pulling. Alan, the Liverpudlian paramedic, was given a respectful wide berth, while Kevin from the Norfolk broads was mercilessly lampooned. It was only when the stage prop of a door knocker came out that alarm bells went off. The ensuing routine was, in fairness, hilarious, but obviously not the alchemical product of audience interaction. Somewhat sheepishly, it seemed to me, Byrne went on to explain that this was a 'no show' not because of its unpreparedness, but merely because he wearied of giving a performance a title and then wandering off course. "If I called it Dinosaurs and then got distracted you'd be upset with me" he explained. Well yes, but not as upset as finding out an entirely different rationale was bogus.

Fortunately, much of the prepared material was very good. Priapic pole vaulting, exploding pressure cookers, advert jingles, the sex life of married couples and the general hopelessness of men were all played out, unapologetically aimed at the mature demographic of his audience. Expertly delivered, this was funny stuff - sometimes very funny - but it was during one such routine that I realised I was marking time, waiting for the made up stuff to start up again. However humorous his prepared material was, it was no match for that which came out of nowhere.

The highlight of the show was a case in point, when Gabe and the aforementioned Kevin were invited onto the stage and asked to perform as clouds. The cloud hats and the menu may have been prepared but no one could have anticipated the hilarity of Kevin's contribution, which finally delivered what had been promised. Who knew - not even his accompanying daughter, I suspect- that a retired caterer was actually a secret comedy genius. Rather than worry about being upstaged, Byrne marvelled at the comedy gold of Kevin's chicken impressions, delighted – it seemed to me – that we (and he) were getting something uniquely special.

To be clear, this was one of the most enjoyable nights of comedy I've experienced in a long time. Byrne's warmth and empathy was reciprocated by a crowd eager to have a good time. I hardly ever laugh out loud at this sort of thing, yet did so throughout the evening. My only misgiving was how far the night strayed from its advertised ambition. Far from performing without a safety net, Byrne employed his considerable improvisational skills to punctuate prepared material in a way that was relatively conventional. What a shame that he wasn't brave enough to do what was promised, because when he did make things up on the hoof, the show was a thing of wonder.