There’s a bait-and-switch to begin newcomer James Trickey’s show, which starts with our host in sunglasses raving to techno music. The music stops, the shades are removed and then, in deadpan: “I’m a chartered accountant.” It’s a fun pivot, from suave to schmuck. It’s also a misdirection, because Trickey then re-ascends to high status for the rest of the show, delivering his debut set in unusually imperious style at a time when, for fringe wannabes at least, self-deprecation is the norm.
You’ve got to admire the chutzpah; high status is harder for a rookie to pull off. It comes at the expense of warmth, though: I found Trickey’s maiden fringe set reminiscent of Jack Whitehall’s way back when. He’s technically excellent, plenty of good jokes, sometimes a bit facile, his mannerisms occasionally feeling borrowed. His is an expertly constructed example of the genus “debut fringe show”, deploying his day job and field of expertise (accountancy and mathematics) as a lens through which to explore who he is, where he’s come from – and where he’s going.
That’s a lot to get through, and Trickey packs plenty into the hour, ranging across his parentage – old white dad, Cambodian mum – his passion for tomato puree, and the kids’ trust fund he’s establishing based on Subway loyalty points. The latter prompts a section on probability and expectation, consisting of a weak rap/rhyme set-piece and reflections on the gamble he’s taking by quitting accountancy for standup. Earlier, we get some material making hay with our host’s dual heritage (“Am I being racially excluded from the racist banter?”).
One or two of those jokes are funnier in principle than in practice. The tenuous idea is apparent behind a routine justifying racism based on the GDP of the country being abused, but it raises a wan smile at best. The joke about how seedy it looks when ageing white dad takes young Asian son to school is not a pleasant one. Technique may be running ahead of judicious selection of material, then, but Trickey has certainly got it, and his gamble in taking up comedy looks odds-on to pay off.
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At Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, until 24 August
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