One of Josie Long's best assets is her apparent authenticity. In a field too often dominated by big egos and front, she has won fans by being her naturally funny, homely, fanzine-drawing, jumper-knitting self.
So it came as a disappointment when her gags come across as scripted. It would be naive to imagine that on-stage Josie is no different to off-stage, but if her schtick is "realness", it's necessary to maintain that illusion.
A section on Galileo was laboured, as was her waffly and frankly baffling routine about a town mayor "turning on the waterworks" metaphorically rather than literally.
Her scrawled pie-chart of worries ( "When will I write a novel?"; "Am I any good?"), saw Josie back in the idiosyncratic territory in which she excels and she had some amusing observations on astronomy, wondering why constellations aren't named, less fancifully, "Look what the moths have done to the curtains".
But it was the stuff from her old show - her felt-tipped belly, pretentious traveller and indier-than-thou weaver - which elicited the most consistent audience approval.
Trying is good and with her new material, she needs to try harder.
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