Carl Donnelly vs. John Robins vs. Predator

Amongst the anything-goes madness of Fringe 2008, where barbershop quartets rub shoulders with ladyboys and dance interpretations of Oscar Wilde vie for attention with kung-fu warriors, finding a show this gloriously simple is like discovering buried treasure. Carl Donnelly and John Robins are two very funny men, who tell very funny jokes.

Admittedly, no new ground is broken here. Donnelly’s set revolves around a series of a-funny-thing-happened-to-me-the-other-day style anecdotes which, oddly, all seem to take place either on buses or in supermarkets. Robins offers the audience a choice of stories with names like “Reg’s Piss” and “Condom Woe” that deliver pretty much what you’d expect, only much funnier.

Originality is frankly irrelevant when your material is this good. The pair have an instantly likeable stage presence that suits the venue, a space that a dodgy estate agent might optimistically describe as “cosy,” and both involve the audience at length, demonstrating that they possess quick wits as well as some first-rate gags.

Donnelly’s motor-mouthed style contrasts well with Robins, who cuts a more laid-back figure and is himself the butt of most of his jokes. But both share a flair for sharply observational humour and a superb delivery that might have taken the roof off any venue that wasn’t a dank cave three stories below street-level.

Towards the end of the hour, Robins responds to a loud ovation by smugly claiming a one-nil scoreline, but that’s about as gimmicky as it gets. This is, quite simply, a little gem of a show.