Wonderfully upbeat for the angst generation.

Australian comic Grace Jarvis seems, at first glance, like the sort of person your mum would call “nice” over a cup of tea — right up until she casually mentions she works in a sex shop between gigs. Just as you’re sipping your brew.

But let’s get the dildo out of the room early: that particular career side-quest, though a standout section, doesn’t define the hour. This is a whip-smart, finely crafted debut from a comic already in full control of her voice.

Jarvis has recently relocated to London and is clearly taking notes. There’s a real sense of flux: she’s moved away from family, is dating another comic based in Scotland, and is piecing together a life in a city that’s both thrilling and absurd. Her routines spin out from these adjustments — from her hatred of the American who separated a mother wombat from her baby, to the chaos of UK policing, rural bus journeys, and the strange social currency of Facebook Marketplace, which she describes with non-sexual fetish-level enthusiasm.

And then there’s the sex shop stint — funny not just because of the merchandise or the customers, but because of the painfully recognisable tedium of retail work. The musical politics of choosing festive playlists while surrounded by latex and lube? That’s observational comedy gold.

What really marks Jarvis out is how fully formed she already feels as a performer. She’s got the jokes, the presence, and the pacing. Her delivery is warm and offbeat, with just enough bite. She’s incredibly likeable but never bland. This isn’t a comic fumbling towards their “thing” — she’s already doing it, and doing it well.

She’s also deeply relatable across the board — the kind of act you could drag your reluctant, emotionally evasive daughter to, only to have her thank you afterwards. There’s heart, there’s intelligence, and crucially, there are loads of proper laughs.

To misquote the great Kirsty MacColl: There’s a girl works down the sex shop who thinks she’s a comedian — and turns out, she really is. A bloody good one.