Marcel Lucont’s act comes from, and celebrates, France - albeit indirectly (as in, he isn’t really from there).
But regardless of the character creator’s place of birth, the charm which dominated the stage was the real winner.
However, the biggest laughs of the evening came when Lucont was working off script.
The early, annoying audience interactions Lucont swiftly put down with a withering look and curse-ridden aside were the most infectious moments.
Similarly, the questions texted in from the crowd which he countered towards the end of the night dismissed the entirety of the USA and Australia as irrelevant and caveman-esque in one fell swoop.
That’s not to say the intricate and astonishingly well recalled songs detailing all the artificial ingredients in our food, and reminiscences from an “as yet unpublished” autobiography weren’t the very pinnacles of comedy craftmanship.
Despite reading from a script at these moments, Lucont, reclining on a disappointing sofa termed a ‘Chez Wrong,’ delivered monologues concerning his past, his national pride and his country – whichever one that might have been - captivatingly.
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