John Hegley: The Adventures of Monsieur Robinet

“Alright Edinburgh,” says John Hegley, “let’s rock.” It sounds ironic coming from the soft-spoken, schoolmasterly Hegley, but after half an hour of singing about amoeba and dancing like guillemots, the audience are forced to admit that this does, indeed, rock.

Audience participation is vital to a Hegley show. Tonight we’re invited to write poetry at the interval, taught to sing complex harmonies and one slightly baffled Belgian audience member is tasked with translating the French poems in The Adventures of Monsieur Robinet. Hegley invites people to talk back to him during the show, although he can cut down persistent hecklers with a single flick of his eyebrows. It all creates a wonderful atmosphere of camaraderie, more like a family reunion than a gig.

Hegley’s own family are here tonight too, evoked in poetry and music. Monsieur Robinet deals with Hegley’s unlikely heritage: his grandmother was a vivacious French can-can dancer. Hegley’s father is also present throughout the show, a conflicted man who changed his name from Rene to Bob and disowned his French heritage.

The climax of the show is an emotional poem about Hegley’s regret at never really knowing the French side of his family; followed by a joyous tribute to the English part of his childhood. It makes quite a powerful end to a show that is, for the most part, nonsense of the most enjoyable kind.