Grace Campbell’s tour is called A Show about Me(n) and there is a good reason why the last letter is in brackets. This high-powered full-throttle monologue is very much about Campbell herself, with the men in her life merely picking up supporting player nominations.
Except for one leading man. Her father, former Labour spin doctor Alistair Campbell. The tousel-haired stand-up has inherited his penchant for forthright opinions and clearly respects him, even though she teases him at the outset when listing her various icks: “My dad worked for Tony Blair. Huge ick.”
Her funniest routine – and a rare family-friendly one – concerns dad being superstitious about his beloved Burnley FC. Campbell senior never ties his shoelaces from Euston to the club’s ground on match days as once he did this and his team won. If only he’d used the same tactic before the EU Referendum, she quipped.
The bulk of the set, however, homes in on Campbell’s – Grace’s, not Alistair’s – colourful sexual CV. There was the lover who suggested she had a hearing test because she was so loud and a dalliance with a cyclist, despite boyfriends on bikes also giving her the ick. Then there was someone who called themselves a creative – “modern day slang for unemployed”.
Along the way she offers her own analysis. Her quest for Prince Charming might stem from David Beckham brushing past her when she was seven. Nobody has quite lived up to Becks, least of all the endless suitors who claimed they could have been pro footballers but for their crocked knees.
Campbell is as frank about her mental health as she is about her STDs. She lists chronic anxiety and OCD among her conditions, suggesting these might be partially down to her father being accused of being a war criminal and having protestors outside her north London home for two years.
Life has, however, also given her a tough carapace when it comes to performing. What she lacks in stagecraft finesse she more than makes up for with confidence, bantering with audience members as if having an intimate gossip with old friends. I’m not quite convinced that she is the voice of a generation she half-jokingly claims she is, yet her relatable material certainly touches a nerve.
As the gig reaches the home straight, she discusses a recent relocation to America. After passionately championing the NHS having experienced wallet-bashing US healthcare, the mood shifts as she recalls a darker sexual episode in Las Vegas. But despite a trigger warning Campbell moves quickly back to comedy. This is very much a show propelled by sheer force of personality, and Campbell clearly isn’t lacking in that department.
