Spencer Jones @ Pleasance Dome

The stage is set, and it’s absolute chaos. There are homemade masks, half-made puppets made out of lampshades and small plastic hands, and of course, a huge painting of a dog which Spencer Jones is working on as we take our seats. Instinctively, we know we’re in for a good time.

Jones disappears and returns to make his official entrance. He wears a huge paper maché head and holds three pints. A song is booming out of speakers, lyrics blaring “I’M A MAN WITH 3 PINTS LOOKING FOR HIS MATES”. He moves through the audience, people shuffling in their seats to make way for him to sidle through. Finally, he makes it to the stage, all three pint cups emptied of their contents onto the floor. It’s an excellent start.  

This is a show about dogs and Jones’ love of them. He strays from this theme often, and when he goes too far he reels himself in. This isn’t accidental. He knows exactly what he’s doing and is completely in control, as much as he might want you to believe that he isn’t. 

On second glance, this is a show about kindness, the hilarity of mundanity, and the ridiculousness of the upper-middle class. He walks an imaginary rescue dog with 3 legs, chanting ‘rah rah rah’ as he goes. It’s fast-paced, and there’s never a dull moment. Things that shouldn’t be funny just are. He walks up to people with a ladle outstretched, seeking to sample different imaginary soups. On being offered leek and potato, he asks “what’s the ratio?!” By the end of the segment, we’re all somehow chanting it with him.

Jones is less of a character comedian and more a shapeshifter, inhabiting different worlds in momentary bursts. It’s joyful and irreverent but at the same time poignant and oddly cathartic. In this hour, we’re reminded that we’re all big kids. Once you’ve had a second to take it all in, you realise you’ve been moved without noticing it happening.

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Spencer Jones: Dogs, Pleasance Dome (Queen Dome), until 30 Aug (not 17), 8.15pm, £19.50/£18.50