Carl Donnelly is pretty unrecognisable; he’s come a long way since I saw him do an open spot in 2005 Fringe. He’s Gok’d himself, amassed a bunch of hippyish views and pastimes, yet he he’s done what few converts to the green side manage, and kept his sense of humour intact. He might be strutting around in plum Cuban heels and a hairdo, but his ultra mellow, cheery brand of humour remains.
Unlike perhaps the majority of the comedy shows at this year’s Fringe, there’s no central gimmick underpinning the show, despite the name and snazzy posters; he’s had a bit of a shit year, made some life changes and he wants to tell us about it. It works really well. He’s brilliantly at ease with the stage and a larger crowd; it feels a lot like a chat down the pub with one of your mates – only much, much funnier. He expertly plays the room’s upbeat vibe, making for some really hilarious interaction. Some bloke even gives him a pint for his troubles.
The show breezes by, and feels a lot like a big fit of the giggles; his knack for storytelling and physical expression are a killer combo. Chuck in his throwaway remarks and the constant banter, and there’s a ludicrously funny hour here. It's effortless and utterly captivating. Carl’s really come into his own this year; it’s a lovely show, and a Fringe must-see.