Wil Hodgson: Punk Folk Tales

Will Hodgson introduces himself as a man of contradictions: a straight bloke who wears nail polish, a former skinhead with Care Bear tattoos. He’s also a comedian who prefers stories to punchlines and a stand-up who doesn’t actually stand up, preferring to sit at a rickety table similar to one from his favourite pub in his hometown of Chippenham.

Chippenham is the theme around which all of Hodgson’s shows to date have revolved. He has a love/hate relationship with the place, ranting about its shortcomings but freely admitting there’s nowhere else he’d rather live. He speaks with real affection about its more eccentric denizens, many of whom are his friends. Tales of the town’s belligerent youths are interspersed with self-deprecating stories about Hodgson’s own young adulthood as a rebellious and homesick university student, starting fights for the sake of it.

All of the criticisms that cross my mind when watching Punk Folk Tales are echoed by Hodgson himself: he admits to being long-winded, mumbling, and taking a long time to get to the jokes, showing that he knows his show isn’t for everyone. It is at times more philosophy than comedy, although there are some hilarious moments. Perhaps because Hodgson is getting older – less makeup and mohicans, more quiet pubs and going home to his girlfriend and cat – his rants are tinged with a bittersweet sense of maturity, ending with Hodgson imploring us to be kind to each other and to have compassion. Whilst you might not have laughed much, it's this ultimately optimistic outlook that will keep you buoyant long after you leave this show.