Russell Kane said that comedians aren’t supposed to do Latitude two years in a row but he loves it so much he begged the organisers to let him come back this year. Good call. Kane and Latitude are made for each other. The Essex-born comic is obsessed by Englishness and class and Englishness and class permeates every corner of "Lattetude", as Kane always calls it.
Despite having just jetted in from Italy and claiming to be royally knackered he was on top form. In fact his recent trip seemed to have inspired his routine as he compared the buttoned-up English to the Mediterranean countries. We barely open our mouths when we speak, they virtually reveal their tonsils even when they are just saying “good morning”.
Kane has tackled the question of why the British go mental on a Friday night before, but it is well worth hearing again. All other countries seem to have a more mature attitude to socialising and go out every night. We bottle it all up during the week so can't stop ourselves from hitting the bottle with a vengeance at the weekend. I don't think his thesis is totally true – has he ever been to Iceland? (the country, not the shop) – but boy does he sell it well, spinning around the stage, piling on the accents, rattling through his arguments.
He was quick to acknowledge that some people in the audience - the kids, the blokes – just wanted punchlines but he eloquently managed to keep everyone on board with his Tourettes-like asides about looking like Nick Grimshaw, quips about people whose idea of a sophisticated night out is Pizza Express – “dough ball wanker” – and an impression of Mail columnist Melanie Phillips in which he kept hissing like Satan.
A routine about never being satisifed when you get what you want rounded off an excellent set. Only one small quibble. From where I was sitting at the back (hence the grainy photo above) he looked a bit like a WW2 Italian fascist in his black shirt and with his slicked back hair. The things people will do to avoid being mistaken for Nick Grimshaw...
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