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Evening Standard
Evening Standard
Lifestyle
Bruce Dessau

Daniel Sloss at the Edinburgh Playhouse review: stand-up at its most visceral

It can be a tricky when an angry young comedian becomes a parent. Will they still be as brutally punchy as ever or do they dissolve into a puddle of sentimental mush? Daniel Sloss, now 32, has reached this crossroad and is clearly still raging on all cylinders – between very occasional mellow moments.

Before he gets round to dissecting fatherhood in his own inimitable style, CAN’T, as the title suggests, tackles cancel culture and the cliché that you cannot say anything any more. This is patently untrue in his case, he smirks. He has talked about subjects from paedophilia to sexual assault onstage and has the sold out signs to prove it.

Offence, he argues, is essential to comedy. You just need to combine it with empathy. He is hardly the first stand-up to say that performers have a right to leapfrog boundaries, but Sloss is particularly persuasive. He is a terrific, focused performer, striding, strutting and straining every sinew to convey his position.

He also has opinions about reality TV, claiming that it is the natural successor to lions in the Colosseum. The difference is that the modern equivalent is simply not as good. Populist entertainment, he asserts with a Swiftian flourish, has been going downhill ever since Rome was selling tickets to see Christians being gobbled up.

The bulk of his set, however, is about birth rather than death. The Scottish comedian – born in Kingston-upon-Thames according to Wikipedia, although he could not be more Caledonian if he gigged in a kilt while carrying a haggis – typically has plenty to say on about becoming a parent.

His characteristically raw account of his partner’s pregnancy, from first scan to labour will make you flinch as well as giggle. While repeatedly emphasising his love for the woman he has latterly married, Sloss’ trademark devilish sensibility means that it is mandatory that he sees the funny side of the pain that accompanies the process.

This is stand-up at its most visceral. At one point he shows off his physical comedy prowess miming a nurse weighing blood-soaked sheets to work out how much blood a mother has lost mid-labour. He imagines his unborn offspring inheriting his dark sensibility and pretending to be lifeless just to tease his parents.

Any fans worried that fatherhood has made Sloss turn soppy can relax. If anything, it has gifted him some brand new source material to fume about.

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