Howard breaks away from anodyne image
Russell Howard
Russell Howard is in typically chipper form, and so he should be. Dismissed by some at the start of his career as just one of the slew of beige twentysomething blokes emerging in stand-up in the Noughties, he has built a solid television career and a huge standup following. Now he’s appearing at the Albert Hall for 10 consecutive nights – overtaking the record of six shared by comics Victoria Wood and Billy Connolly, and the eight shared by singers Frank Sinatra and Barry Manilow.
“What an absolute s---hole!” he declares ironically as he looks around his temporary abode – but he may see worse venues as he tours four continents with Round the World this year. Clearly his feelgood comedy travels, and his smiley, energetic delivery helps. For the moment, though, he’s s happy to be here and the sold-out crowd owd are volubly happy too.
He performs on a stage in the round, which brings a touch of intimacy to this grand hall, and starts by keeping things close to home – telling us about his dodgy bladder, why we should cull stupid people and several tales about his daft extended Bristolian family, including his mum, with whom he recently filmed a US road trip shown on Comedy Central. I’m sure they’re all wonderful people but it’s possible to have too much of a good thing…
But while it’s true he’s a regular on anodyne panel shows and his Good News programme on the BBC was rarely cutting, Howard here shows he has some bite. When he talks about what the NHS means to him, or mentions Donald Trump, Nigel Farage and Piers Morgan, the passion and anger are real.
That fame-hungry trio are easy targets, of course — but Howard has an original take. Referring to the Ukip MEP’s recent bizarre claim that rudeness from liberal folk means he’s now afraid to go for a pint in Wetherspoon’s, the comic observes drily: “Everyone’s afraid to go to Wetherspoon’s.” He also muses on how the Queen might behave behind the scenes when Trump is here for his state visit; his racy fantasy is probably borderline treason but it’s a clever way of insulting the US President while bigging up Her Majesty.
There’s some good honest filth as Howard fondly remembers his sexobsessed teenage years, and the days when making a girl a mix-tape was a declaration of love.
He thinks it sad that today’s teenagers, who live their lives online, have to establish themselves as a brand on social media. Terrific, particularly, is his material on the minefield of modern dating, which has a serious and heartfelt undertow, that boys should respect girls because they’re pretty wonderful creatures. Liberal, politically correct and crowd-pleasing, yes. But Howard can definitely no longer be called beige.