Review: Runi Talwar

You might think that every conceivable topic has been covered across 70 years of the Fringe, all those thousands of comedy hours, but racist spoons does feel like a new one. It’s a significant moment too, the first sign that Runi Talwar’s new home, the UK, has a unique and long-established style of prejudice, sometimes expressed via kitchen utensils. 

Talwar is an engaging presence to spend an hour with, striding merrily around Bunker One, tossing out well-crafted wordplay, glorious mane bouncing off his shoulders. That title may suggest a heroic high-concept blockbuster but, movie-star hair aside, this is actually a kitchen-sink tale of a young Indian lad dealing with a sort of reverse superpower. 

Branded with ‘unluck’ – as he puts it – from birth, that fateful gift follows him from New Zealand to Australia and the UK, adversely affecting huge cricket matches, his love life, and a vitally important section of his visa application. Or perhaps it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy? Letting your dealer do your admin is arguably just bad judgement, if juicy material for later.

The well-travelled comic throws his whole world into this hour, a winning blend of tall tales, callbacks and life lessons, which deserves a decent audience. Stirring stuff.