Robin Ince: Bleeding-Heart Liberal

The angry, lefty, very pre-97 politics that pour forth in Robin Ince’s meandering show make it hard to believe that this bitter cynic has only just hit 40. Although probably much more at home in his native 1985—when Maggie was still virile enough that a good tongue lashing didn't necessitate a call to social services—Ince’s comedy seems strangely fresh at a time when such unashamedly direct political humour is not in vogue.

Indeed, despite there being none of the intricate construction of a Stewart Lee set, no thundering crescendo to his message, and certainly no “Ah, I get it” moment to pin an Edinburgh Comedy Award upon, Ince’s tell-it-like-it-is shtick is well backed up by a lifetime's reading and research into his topics, and so well conveyed as to give one full confidence in his mordant rants.

This is a show that has previously been performed at the Fringe and, although more than worth the ticket price, can at times feel a little tired – something the comic is helpful enough to point out himself. Ince has also failed to put in the necessary legwork to make sure his show comes in on time. As such, the tales of arguments with everyone from Vanessa Feltz to the crazed neocons who are fighting to bring down Jerry Springer: The Opera, though hilarious, never fully reach the unifying conclusion that Ince initially promises. The result is a feeling of damp disappointment at the show’s close, something that will hopefully be rectified as the run continues.