Sometimes I wish the word “comedy” were abolished. I can’t be the only person who tenses up at the idea that I am going somewhere especially to laugh. Or who squirms at loud or dutiful or anxious titters. Or who feels it is a cage for performers who are succeeding in everything other than producing a chortle.
Rob Newman is a case in point. His recent shows have been sceptical riffs. He has done the history of oil, the Taliban and the selfish gene (separately). And now, in The Brain Show, he is attending to theories about the mind and emotions. He does so with wit. Not with a wet-yourself laugh. He comes on rumpled in tartan trousers and a bow tie, like a long-ago boffin. First he has a go at geneticists, especially the ones who think there is a special “low-voter-turnout” gene – or one for homelessness. Then he takes on neuroscience. Following his participation in a UCL experiment about love, he rubbishes the idea that brain responses are neatly, discretely zoned, produces an agile takeoff of Brian Cox and McCartney (Paul), spins a fascinating digression about spiders and a fey one about giant squids, plonking on a baby guitar while two giant squids light up like Christmas trees. His message is genial; his show would be funnier if it were not called comedy
