The ethereal surrealism and faux-naivete of the comedian and actress Sara Pascoe conjures up comparisons to Noel Fielding, Josie Long and Russell Brand; in other words she's an acquired taste. Her self-deprecating style more than takes this into account and she goes so far as to issue a series of coy disclaimers about her shtick: "This show has something for everyone but no one will enjoy it entirely."
Bearing in mind the mixed reaction to her Fringe debut last year, she claims to have changed her approach this year. The vehicle is indeed different: it's not a patch on the previous one in terms of showing off her intellect and wit.
The loose end-of-days theme allows Pascoe to remodel the world in her own image – fake orgasms would carry stiff penalties, out-of-work actors would be duped into teacher training and religion would become disorganised. But these suggestions are displayed with little wit or guile. More often than not her notions are abstract doodles that puzzle rather than pleasure. This is evident with her PC pornographic zine, which is juvenile and ineffective in informing any views about the subject – and way wide of the funny bone in the process.
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