Daniel Kitson at MIND Comedy Night

Daniel Kitson at MIND Comedy Night

17 February, 2009
by: Stuartalexanderforbes

"If Kitson comes on without a MIND t-shirt he hates people that are mentally ill," Stuart Goldsmith tells the crowd at Monday's inaugural comedy night hosted by leading mental health charity, MIND.

Twenty minutes later and headlining act, Daniel Kitson, is on stage.

"No one tells me that I don't like the spastics," he says, unzipping a faded blue hooded top to show off a brilliant-blue MIND t-shirt.

"I bloody love 'em."

This ostensibly offensive revelation was repeated intermittently throughout the set, each time accompanied by an excellent visual gag in which the Perrier Award winner would unpeel a MIND t-shirt to reveal yet another underneath. I counted five before he was down to the last, sweat-drenched layer.

Pre-empted by an eclectic and talented line-up that expounded on such diverse subjects as race, class, anthropomorphic pets and the grammatical inaccuracies of popular music, Kitson rightfully stole the show, delighting the charity crowd with a forty-five minute performance of rambling narrative and discerning intelligence. It didn't all go to plan. Kitson was forced into some chaotic improvisation early into his set, as he became embroiled in a five minute bout of tug-of-war for a mobile phone that a man on the front row had apparently used to film him.

"Give him your bloody phone!" the audience cried.

"There's only one reason he won't give me his phone and that's if there's pictures of children on it," quipped Kitson.

Even when ruffled – apparently a fever was troubling him every bit as much as the phone debacle - Kitson carries the audience on a tide of sharp observation and casual one-liners, from the simple ("It's a disgrace – bankers getting boners while we're all struggling...") to the quizzical ("Can things ever be absolutely mediocre?").

The improv was excellent: confident, natural, knowing and hysterical. Kitson is possessed of a superb comedic talent. Every gesture, every nuanced movement, one-liner, quip, observation or pause is imbued with a lucid intelligence and inclusive charisma. A pronounced stutter only serves to endear him to his audience and gives him a human vulnerability that is a welcome relief to the oil-slick aura of impenetrability exuded by so many comics on the circuit.

The theme of his set seemed to be the boundaries of offensive language – is it ever acceptable to say something racist? Even to a friend? Kitson let his mind wander, constantly asking questions - is ironical racism between friends okay? - constantly coming back to the idea that context sets the boundaries for what is acceptable.

If Kitson seemed rushed towards the very end – "I've started a bit of material that's got a narrative of approximately four days..." - we can forgive him for the infectious abandon with which he paints a story and the always honest, always hilarious thought-processes he displays to his audience.


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