Aimee Smith
There are a lot of great things you can do on a Saturday evening, such as go out for a nice dinner you can’t really afford, enjoy a quiet tipple over a pub quiz or a game of bingo, or perhaps even stay at home and do your washing, feeling simultaneously both smug and bitter. Or you could go and see All Day Breakfast. This is not an option you would regret.
Eamonn Marra and Jonny Potts - the comedians behind All Day Breakfast - cordially invite you to BYO breakfasts foods. I consider making a trip to the supermarket before, thinking maybe some croissants would go down a treat, and would it be rude to prepare a bowl of cereal during the performance. As Potts welcomes the audience at the start of the show, he asks who has brought their breakfasts foods along with them, and I start to worry I am going to miss out on some integral audience participation. Then the entire row behind me raises their cans of beer and I realise something went a little over my head.
As a somewhat literal thinker, I’m lucky to have Potts there, giving the audience fair warning that the show we are about to see has nothing to do with breakfast. This saves me a lot of angst and head-scratching and feeling like I just don’t get it. Don’t bother waiting for the trick; the flip; the grand reveal; it doesn’t come. Let’s make this clear - this show is exactly what it says it is - some good comedians telling some good jokes.
Ray O’Leary is our opener for the evening. His socio-political commentary on the judicial system elicits as many groans (unpleasant truths) as laughter (excellent wit, good job sir). What really wins me over though is O’Leary’s brilliantly dry delivery style. Whilst the show may not be about breakfast, I have little doubt O’Leary could make a bowl of cornflakes somehow both hilarious and insightful.
Potts follows with an undeniably different style. Potts is loud, and, as is already clear from the tongue-in-cheek title of the show, likes to keep us trying to figure out exactly where he is going. He takes to the stage in a whirlwind of energy and, whilst it takes me awhile to settle into his set, by the time we reach the end I am on the edge of my seat. I am not ready for it to be over, and clearly he knows this is the perfect place to finish. I must remain wary of spoilers, but I feel safe in saying Potts has a singing voice well worth hearing.
We finish off the evening with Marra, a charmingly self-deprecating performer. Whilst most of his jokes are at his own expense, Marra never falls into the trap of seeming whiny or self-indulgent. Rather than throwing himself a pity-party, his set is more of a communal celebration of our shared foibles and insecurities. He even calls himself out on being mean to the audience, but I’m not feeling angry, I’m feeling more like I would like to come onstage and give him a hug. Don’t worry, if you have the same response, you can make up for it via the koha lunchbox.
It is, in many ways (please pardon the pun) a dog’s breakfast. I’m looking for cohesion and tightness and obvious themes and arcs and that is not what I got. Luckily I gave up this agenda quickly, and once you let yourself sink into the dog’s breakfast you will find you really enjoy it. So please, whatever plans you did have for this Saturday night - cancel them. Treat yourself (trust me, you’re worth it) to an All Day Breakfast.
Head to 17 Tory Street to catch the final performance of All Day Breakfast. Start time is 7pm, entry is koha.
As a somewhat literal thinker, I’m lucky to have Potts there, giving the audience fair warning that the show we are about to see has nothing to do with breakfast. This saves me a lot of angst and head-scratching and feeling like I just don’t get it. Don’t bother waiting for the trick; the flip; the grand reveal; it doesn’t come. Let’s make this clear - this show is exactly what it says it is - some good comedians telling some good jokes.
Ray O’Leary is our opener for the evening. His socio-political commentary on the judicial system elicits as many groans (unpleasant truths) as laughter (excellent wit, good job sir). What really wins me over though is O’Leary’s brilliantly dry delivery style. Whilst the show may not be about breakfast, I have little doubt O’Leary could make a bowl of cornflakes somehow both hilarious and insightful.
Potts follows with an undeniably different style. Potts is loud, and, as is already clear from the tongue-in-cheek title of the show, likes to keep us trying to figure out exactly where he is going. He takes to the stage in a whirlwind of energy and, whilst it takes me awhile to settle into his set, by the time we reach the end I am on the edge of my seat. I am not ready for it to be over, and clearly he knows this is the perfect place to finish. I must remain wary of spoilers, but I feel safe in saying Potts has a singing voice well worth hearing.
We finish off the evening with Marra, a charmingly self-deprecating performer. Whilst most of his jokes are at his own expense, Marra never falls into the trap of seeming whiny or self-indulgent. Rather than throwing himself a pity-party, his set is more of a communal celebration of our shared foibles and insecurities. He even calls himself out on being mean to the audience, but I’m not feeling angry, I’m feeling more like I would like to come onstage and give him a hug. Don’t worry, if you have the same response, you can make up for it via the koha lunchbox.
It is, in many ways (please pardon the pun) a dog’s breakfast. I’m looking for cohesion and tightness and obvious themes and arcs and that is not what I got. Luckily I gave up this agenda quickly, and once you let yourself sink into the dog’s breakfast you will find you really enjoy it. So please, whatever plans you did have for this Saturday night - cancel them. Treat yourself (trust me, you’re worth it) to an All Day Breakfast.
Head to 17 Tory Street to catch the final performance of All Day Breakfast. Start time is 7pm, entry is koha.