There’s a bait-and-switch to begin newcomer James Trickey’s show, which starts with our host in sunglasses raving to techno music. The music stops, the shades are removed and then, in deadpan: “I’m a chartered accountant.” It’s a fun pivot, from suave to schmuck. It’s also a misdirection, because Trickey then re-ascends to high status for the rest of the show, delivering his debut set in unusually imperious style at a time when, for fringe wannabes at least, self-deprecation is the norm.
You’ve got to admire the chutzpah; high status is harder for a rookie to pull off. It comes at the expense of warmth, though: I found Trickey’s maiden fringe set reminiscent of Jack Whitehall’s way back when. He’s technically excellent, plenty of good jokes, sometimes a bit facile, his mannerisms occasionally feeling borrowed. His is an expertly constructed example of the genus “debut fringe show”, deploying his day job and field of expertise (accountancy and mathematics) as a lens through which to explore who he is, where he’s come from – and where he’s going.
