Jim Gaffigan is touring the world, and he has jokes about every destination to show for it. Belgium? It was designed by 19-year-olds. New Zealand? Here’s a novel explanation for settlers’ uncommonly equitable treaty with the Māori …
I wouldn’t call globetrotting the subject of Gaffigan’s show – there is no subject. But he is taking the opportunity to unspool his miscellany of jokes about world tourism, from Anne Frank’s house and Ireland’s debt to the Vikings and beyond. But the same Viking gag – and a fair few others in the show – cropped up when Gaffigan last visited London, 18 months ago. He has not really created a new show; this is just a slightly refreshed collection of his jokes. Maybe the diminished novelty explains why it feels like a weaker set. There is a low-wattage section midway on castles and museums. A final bit, about his colonoscopy, is not notably distinct from many other middle-aged male comics’ routines about the same undignified procedure.
And I felt, more keenly this time, a liveness deficit. The audience is enveloped in darkness, barely acknowledged. The material feels delivered by rote. But at least it is often high quality material, and the New York City resident is very skilled at deploying it. An opener about Billy Joel’s name shows how, with his expertly measured, sardonic delivery, Gaffigan can lead the least promising material to giddy heights of comic dismay. A later skit about how we take neurosurgery for granted trades very amusingly in Gaffigan’s awe at that activity. (“How was work, honey?” / “BRAIN SURGERY!”) Nothing Gaffigan does tonight inspires quite the same reverence, but it’s an accomplished and enjoyable 70 minutes.
•Jim Gaffigan is at Leicester Square theatre, London, on 13 July.
