Like the first half the second half was started by an act that had plenty of get up and go. Boyce Bailey was an imposing figure with a forceful delivery but not quite enough to back it up unless jokes about Milf porn are your bag. He got more interesting when he started discussing his Japanese wife and her linguisitic quirks, but again he had a habit of descending into smut rather than developing his ideas.
I’d wondered if there were any women in the final, but then the random draw threw up four in a row in the second half starting with Claire Parker, who described herself as “transgender”. This ought to have given her plenty to talk about but she didn’t particularly mine that seam apart from explaining how she had two sons and had asked them what female name she should adopt. The suggestions were probably the funniest part of her act. She had plenty of personality even if her material didn’t.
Pam Ford strutted on in short skirt and high heels and proceeded to win over the audience with a confident set about being half-English and half-Australian. I liked the way that she acknowledged that some of her dated references - photograph negatives, dingos stealing babies – might only work with older audiences with good memories. It was lowest common denominator stuff at times – there was also the inevitable cougar gag – but if the night was being judged on who got the biggest laughs I thought Ford might be worth a placing, but she missed out.
It was hard on Elizabeth Mee that she had to follow Ford as her style was so much more low-key, but Mee kept the upbeat mood in the room going with gags about being middle class and punchlines that pulled the rug. If Miranda Hart’s sitcom mum played by Patricia Hodge was a stand-up she would probably be something like this. Nicely delivered quips about bankers, helping out with charities and going to the gym were peppered with decent lines.
Georgia Thorp had a unique selling point being a Cypriot lesbian. I liked her routine celebrating halloumi’s ability to keep its shape in a frying pan compared to cheddar and there were some other deft observations peppered throughout her short set. A reference to George Michael kept the Greek theme going but a lot of Thorp’s set was universal and she ended on a very strong tip on how to get your revenge on Jehovah’s Witnesses.
And finally to the last act, posh adventurer Jasper Cromwell Jones, alias stand-up Joe Bor. The last time I saw Jasper Cromwell Jones he opened Sketch Comedian of the Year at the same venue and slightly died on his upper middle class arse. Maybe the audience hadn’t realised he was a character.
This time round the stars were better aligned and things fell into place. The audience got the irony of his nice-but-dim persona – to this idiot “dry January” means only drinking dry white wine – and his “posh-off” with someone in the crowd went perfectly to plan. When things are working for you they look effortless and in this brief set it felt that everything Cromwell Jones came out with got a laugh. The judges - myself, Steve Bennett from Chortle and ex-Time Out Comedy Editor Ben Williams were more than happy to award him first prize.
