Chloe Petts‘ debut Edinburgh Fringe show last year received praise for discussing gender and sexuality in a polite manner. But Petts took the suggestion that she was a kind, gentle person to heart, and appears to have been less than happy about it. So this year she has reinvented herself as a tougher, more brutal comedian.
That’s the elevator pitch for If You Can’t Say Something Nice. The reality, of course, is somewhat different. In this elegantly delivered performance Petts sets out to be meaner, taking potshots at the men in the front row, mocking older fans who might not get certain references. But ultimately it feels more mischievous than malicious. She is doing it to keep herself interested and to keep the audience entertained.
It is all playful and great fun, and nobody really gets hurt because Petts is such an assured, engaging presence. Even when she tries to be a bully she cannot really bring herself to follow through, and that’s partly where the comedy comes from. As much as she may insist it’s “no more Mr Nice Chloe“, she has hardly turned into a foulmouthed Jerry Sadowitz tribute act.
An underlying subtext is that maybe she is more furious off-duty than she appears on-stage. As she says in the show, there are two sides to Petts. She can be a “beautiful, gentle queer” but can also be the football fan hurling abuse at the referee when she disagrees with a decision. Maybe as an ardent supporter of Crystal Palace she has much to fume about?
There is a wry account here of visits to a therapist to deal with anger management issues. A skit about a primary school pencil-related incident is maybe something for her shrink to unpick, but it also prompts plenty of laughs. Another story, about when she finally cracks and confronts someone playing music on the bus is almost too relatable. We feel your pain Chloe.
Among the recurring topics of football and sexuality that make this a strong sequel to her impressive calling card debut, there are memorable stories that show Petts from a slightly different perspective. A stand-out routine is about how she likes being a token gay woman at weddings, where she feels she has superhero powers. Don’t expect any Richard Curtis tweeness about nuptials though. Petts is more Irked, Actually than Love, Actually.
