Shame is what Sue Perkins promises us in this return to live comedy after years away: her public personae withdrawn like the layers of a Russian doll to reveal the true, humiliated person beneath. Who wouldn’t want to see the former Bake Off star, after “30 years in our living rooms”, put on such a show? But it’s not quite what Perkins delivers. Like Dawn French before her, in a touring set purporting to show what a “huge twat” she was, The Eternal Shame of Sue Perkins compiles a series of perky professional and personal anecdotes only loosely connected to that theme, and is judicious with its intimacies.
It is stronger in its second half, which cleaves more tightly to the theme and affords more glimpses behind our host’s brisk demeanour. Act one begins with Perkins alluding to her shame at being middle-aged and tired in an industry dedicated to youthful vigour. The ensuing anecdotes have nothing to do with that whatsoever, as she relates an inconclusive tale about local drug dealers cloning her car registration, and a literal shaggy dog story, more suggestive of pride than shame, about rescuing a wounded pup on a trip to Bolivia.
