Michael Redmond seems like a perfectly happy chap. ‘I’m fine,’ he tells us amiably enough, ‘No particular problems,’ and he hopes that things are fine for us too.
This neighbourly enquiry sets the tone for the hour: laid back, easygoing comedy and time pleasantly spent. Redmond warmed up gently, with a bit of a laugh about his facial hair and some easy banter with the front couple of rows. He strikes a friendly tone: he has the energy and charisma to get people laughing, but is low key enough that everyone feels safe. The vibe in the room was very welcoming, the heckling so good-natured it could be mistaken for conversation.
And that suits Redmond just fine. His greatest gift is in his interactions with the crowd. He draws on everything that happens out in front of him – the room is small, and he can clearly see everyone in it. If a laugh is overly loud or if someone shifts in their seat he pounces on them, inquiring as to what they’re up to. Not an original stand-up tactic (and a great way to pad 45 mins material out into an hour) but Redmond doesn’t seem aggressive, and when he engages with a punter he isn’t picking on them. He seems genuinely interested, and his rejoinders and responses are sociable and kind. He is not funny at the expense of others and mocks no one more than himself.
There is not a lot of shape or depth to this set, it is classic observational comedy: a little wordplay, a little my country vs. yours and a novel section in which he reads from an old cookery book; but he is professional, he knows how to work a room, his timing is good, and his approach controlled and yet relaxed. It makes for an enjoyable hour - nothing too special, nothing too shocking. The various bits and bobs of the title (guacamole, mannequins etc) are in there, sure, but it is Redmond who really features, and he is just fine.