Tim Key - L**br*

If you have followed me on Twitter or Instagram or have spoken to me for more than 9 seconds, you will know how I feel about Tim Key's body of work. But if you're new here, then be prepared for the most shockingly biased "review" you've ever read.

Key's latest show is still technically a 'Work In Progress,' but it is already brimming with hilarious poems, a comical narrative, and, of course, Kronenbourg. I'm not going to write a new entry for all 15* (yes, 15) times I've seen this show; I'll just add extra details as Key builds, changes, and polishes this triumph of a show.

The house lights go down, Yumeji's Theme begins, and the poet plods toward the centre of the stage, tie in one hand, carrier bag in the other. As the bag thuds to the ground, Key ties his tie, reaches into the bag, and cracks open a volatile can of beer before taking his first playing card from his pocket and telling us about Colette and her son.

L****b**r* is about Key (stage persona Key) and his relationship with fame. Key addresses topics often seen in stand-up: the struggles of dating apps, relationships with parents and ageing through his unique comic lens. He also tackles the lesser-seen subjects of rucksack measurements, Richard Osman's House of Games and British-Canadian former tennis player Greg Rusedski in his aggressively hypnotic style that leaves the audience roaring.

A personal highlight of my reoccurring visits is hearing the reactions of a new audience to a 47-year-old, bearded man, covered in larger read his poem entitled "Beanie Weanie's", where his deadpan delivery of the bizarre phrase "Beanie Weanie's" (three times) can unsettle the audience into nervous laughter before he jumps back to small talk with the audience about their ages seamlessly.

You may wonder how anyone can have seen a show 15 times and still be eagerly awaiting the next time, and frankly, I don't know how, but this grown man clip-clopping around a stage in cowboy boots, bellowing over some faint classical music, has quickly become a comfort show for me, and I'm not mad about it.

While the main body of the show remains the same now that it has "Advanced Work In Progress" status, the audience's answers to some pretty straightforward questions, such as "Do you own an oven?" can go in unexpected directions, and Key wittily and masterfully deals with the unexpected.
If the idea of audience interaction scares you, don't worry; you'll be safe from grilling in the second row or further so long as you offer no information about 'Society of the Snow' or Japan. But if you're in the front row, a man and sit stage right, you risk living my dream of being Key's 'beer guy' for 58 minutes.

It's safe to say this show lives in my head the way Ian Hislop lives in Key's, rent-free. I am looking forward to number 16.