Comedy news: Mayfair's only comedy club comes up trumps

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Mayfair, more than most places, needs some comedy. Amidst the economic gloom hedge-fund managers and investment bankers probably need a laugh and Upstairs at the Masons, the only comedy cub in Mayfair, is trying to do just that. David Doyle heads along to find out if London's most exclusive suburb is game for a laugh...

Paul Foot is infectiously twitchy. As he jumps from his microphone at Upstairs at the Masons, ‘the only comedy club in Mayfair’, to a member of the audience, then to the back of the stage, then hops to a different member of the audience, he has a nervous energy that is absorbing.

He is the bastard child of Russell Brand and Anneka Rice with Pat Sharp’s Fun House mullet – except he is easily funnier than all three.

What makes a great comedian is less about how great their material is and more about what they do with their material.

Paul Foot talked for ten minutes about vans. More accurately, about when you wouldn’t see a van. For those who don’t know, the circumstances in which you will not see a van range from being asleep to wearing special van spectacles, which block out the shape of any van (as long as you move your head at the same speed as the van.)

Whilst ‘the occasions when you will not see a van’ is up there with home furnishings and someone else’s holiday in terms of mundane topics, Foot’s enthusiasm, wit and delivery means the audience is willing to go anywhere Foot’s addled mind meanders.

By way of contrast Stephen Carlin’s acerbic analysis of the mundane challenges established truths.

A perfect accompaniment to Foot’s cerebral fluidity, Carlin is stereotypically Scottish in his slightly hostile directness of style.

He also doesn’t mind flirting with controversy as illustrated when he pointed out that Joseph Stalin may have been a better dad to Jesus than Joseph of Aramathea - “he would have made sure they had a room in the inn."

The same bluntness is more surprising when it comes from rather sweet looking children’s BBC presenter Holly Walsh.

Pondering the entertainment industry’s use of ‘That’s show business!’ as an excuse for any mishaps that happen in front of the camera on stage, Walls examines if the same excuse would apply in other businesses – “That baby’s looking a bit blue – that’s midwifery!”

Walsh is charming in her examination of everyday life, but the length of her set, which could not have been more than ten minutes, left me feeling like I had barely gotten to know her before she was gone.

James Mullinger compered enthusiastically and managed to introduce some lively proceedings into the night but at times the crowd seemed unprepared to fully commit to the evening.

Yet, with a decent line up of good acts, Upstairs at the Masons provided enough mirth to make a few well heeled clients forget that they've just had to sell their Ferrari.

David Doyle