Apes Like Me

Half way through Kate Smurthwaite’s Apes Like Me we reach what ought to be an absolutely earth-shaking moment. It speaks volumes about the show that, in the moments following her announcement that “the only joke at the Edinburgh Festival not written by a human” is about to be told, the ground beneath our feet pointedly fails to move.

The gag, such as it is, comprises a story about a practical joke played by a particularly cheeky orang-utan on its keeper, a story Smurthwaite delivers so clumsily that it gets only the politest of laughs. Orang-utans, you see, have a sense of humour. We also learn that gorillas like to get drunk on rotting fruit, and bonobo chimps will have sex with absolutely anyone. The point being, of course, that they’re not so different from you and I.

Falling somewhere between a stand-up set and a zoology lecture, the links between the monkey-related trivia and observational comedy are at times extremely tenuous. But that’s not the real problem with Apes Like Me. In fact, it’s an interesting and original premise, but sadly Smurthwaite – who is engaging, likeable and probably smarter than five other Fringe comics put together – simply lacks the delivery and timing to make it work.

She does well to eschew the Bush-baiting you’d expect from a show about humans being basically clothed apes, and involves the audience adeptly. But, unfortunately, the overall impression is more of a cool young university tutor than an actual stand-up comedian.