With 10 megatons of matey Irish charm in his back pocket, it is hard for anyone to dislike if.comedy nominee Andrew Maxwell. Indeed, in 2004 he won Channel 4's King of Comedy title as much for being nice about his competitors as for his act. "How you all doing?" he asks on taking the stage, as if he had just arrived in the pub. And he even laughs along with us at his usual mixture of observational gags and funny stories. "I love my job," he keeps saying, and I believe him.
Nevertheless, Maxwell's nomination this year is a surprise. He's more a people's than a critics' comic, and has been cheerfully doing his thing for years without troubling the judges. I can only suppose that what caught their eye this time is the continuation of a trend, evident in last year's show, to begin infusing a little well-meaning politics into his act. And yet, to my mind, it is on this ground that Maxwell is weakest. His beer-and-spliffs persona does not sit naturally with calls for understanding in our inner cities, and it is always a relief to hear him return to what he does best, such as expounding on the basic unpleasantness of testicles. "We wouldn't like tits if they had balls," he observes.
Maxwell's slacker bonhomie can also slip a bit during his anecdotes, which generally concern his own feats of bravery, liberalism or debauchery. Tales of one's own admirable behaviour are difficult to tell in a likable manner, and although Maxwell has more than enough self-deprecating charm to make a go of it, he never quite wipes away all trace of smugness from the experience. "All I care about is show business," he says at the end, in a stirring love letter to his audience and his profession. I found him funnier when that was true.
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