We’re invited to a birthday party. Cerys Bradley is throwing it for one lucky audience member, someone who’s a child of divorce, because when you’re a kid and your parents part ways, everyone is nice to you. But if it happens when you’re an adult, as it did for Bradley recently, no one tries to make you feel better.
The party is packed with fun distractions – pass the parcel, pin the tail on the donkey, balloon modelling – yet Bradley can’t help but overthink their parents’ divorce. How should they feel about it? Is it OK to insult their dad’s new partner? How do adults deal with this?
Bradley discusses their autism diagnosis (it’s the first comedy show I’ve been to here that’s embraced the relaxed performance model, so “you can tic, fidget, stim” as needed) – it’s meant the thing they overthink most is whether they’re accidentally being mean during conversations. That anxiety was complicated by a review Bradley received last year suggesting they should be meaner to the audience. A homemade “meanometer” sits centre stage, and one audience member is given control, pumping up a party balloon to take the measure from one to 10, depending on how unkind Bradley’s jokes are.
Not very, actually. Bradley is an affable host, gently bringing the audience into each participatory party game, and a great storyteller. Their impression of their dad breaking the news of his decision to leave for another woman is a highlight. Their deliberation on their feelings about marriage (Bradley’s own wedding happened recently) is compelling, as is one of their final questions: is it too mean to share their parents’ personal story on stage?
At times, the structure could be tighter, the themes brought together more conclusively, the party silliness amped up further. But there is much to like about the show – it’s a thoughtful afternoon out with a sprinkling of nostalgic party magic.
• At Laughing Horse @ Bar 50, Edinburgh, until 27 August
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