Ross Noble does not have a catchphrase but maybe he is nurturing one. A few times he began an anecdote with: “It’s a long story...”
A more accurate remark has rarely been uttered at the Palladium.
His approach is to weave together scripted routines and spontaneous flights of fancy. When everything falls into place the result is a joy. There were moments when one was awestruck by his imaginative leaps, but there were also moments when those stories felt too long.
It was fun to watch him bounce off the audience. An audience member eating Maltesers teed up a superb running gag about “malt deficiency”, while Brexit banter prompted him to start converting French phrases into English — after leaving the EU, “papier-mâché” will henceforth be known as “mashed paper”.
Some punchlines did not justify their extended build-up, however. Having teased the audience with some Prince Andrew gossip the pay-off was not the anticipated showstopper.
Other yarns fared better. A bad case of post-Great-North-Run chafing was a cue for his gloriously eccentric limping, while reflections on dogs prompted a dizzying array of different pronunciations of the word “Chihuahua”.
There was more of a personal element than usual. Family members were mentioned — there was the touching tale of the chaotic mini-Viking burial for his father’s ashes. Things did not go as planned, but they got there in the end.
A little bit like this show.
