Sociology lecture and urination jokes - it’s all there at Room With A Stew - a night with Stewart Lee at the Cambridge Corn Exchange

PUBLISHED: 12:10 03 February 2016 | UPDATED: 16:05 03 February 2016

Stewart Lee played Cambridge Corn Exchange as part of his Room With A Stew tour

Stewart Lee played Cambridge Corn Exchange as part of his Room With A Stew tour

Archant

With all the allure of a teenage style temper tantrum Stewart Lee opens his Room With A Stew show at Cambridge Corn Exchange with the rant ‘Even the people who like me don’t know what they’re seeing,’ before launching into a routine of dry cynicism that teeters on the edge of inappropriate for almost two hours.

The man is a comedy genius, combining satire and off the wall sociology lecture, with a heavy dose of urination jokes and funny things kids say - all with the comic timing of a post punk Pinter.

Now 47 and a father of two, Lee appeared at Cambridge Corn Exchange as part of his UK tour, to fund in his own words, a massive mortgage debt.

This man’s brain power is an interesting journey – it appears to shift from bouncing around like a power ball to stopping short in its tracks, with inspiration that he says is often achieved while looking out of his window.

Banal platitude, he calls it, I call it finely-tuned hilarious, although at times I wish it had stayed more in the realms of fast-paced, but then maybe that misses the point.

Who else can relate tales of orienteering with anarchic band Napalm Death or realise that under 40s are stupid because they suck yoghurts from plastic tubes and claim to have invented bondage sex, or make the analogy that James Corden liking Stuart Lee is similar to a dog liking classical music.

The show spins off in all directions, from accidentally peeing over his granddad to bereavement, having a mouse as a replacement father, to chewing-gum for foxes.

It’s all there – but in a jumbled up mix that only Lee could deliver with a passive aggressive style that knocks hecklers short in their tracks.

Oh and let’s not forget Sunday Times and Sun writer Rod Liddle – the audience leaves with the very clear impression that not one shred of respect is reserved for Mr Liddle. Or Katie Hopkins for that matter.

For that and for the many belly laughs, I salute you, including your moments of self confessed Brechtian alienation.

“No one is equipped to review me,” he says as the lights go up at the start of his set.

Obnoxious show opener or a throwing down of the gauntlet to any journalist fool enough to criticise him without first carefully choosing their words.

The jury’s out - but in ten words I say this - it was a mighty fine performance and a memorable night.


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