Jack Dee is a misery guts and proud of it. He wears the whinging, grumpy, Englishman tag to a tee; it bodes him well. Dee has made talking about banal daily routine an art form and centres on the worst week of his life, which started with a blown light bulb in his garage.
Dee’s timing and delivery is impeccable. His intelligent observations about everyday life are hilarious, and draw genuine hearty laughter from the crowd. He begins with a feeble, half-hearted thank you for attending his show, and informs us that the average person buys four tickets to a show, so “25% of you wanted to come and 75% of you went with the control freak in your life.”
A visit to the supermarket and putting shopping items back in places from whence they did not come is funny. His rebellious stance on the “keep refrigerated” label on a jar of mayonnaise is clever. Even a mere “No Job Too Small” also advert spurs on Dee’s comic genius. His children are not spared the embarrassment of being inspiration for his humour; his daughter’s first music festival at Reading ends in a riotous misadventure.
The entire story is well structured and thought out, and loose ends are all tied in at the end. His autobiography “Thanks for nothing” is also given a promo, but the musical number at the end, despite Dee’s prowess is unnecessary and draws out an otherwise perfect stand up routine.