Sam Lake strides on with disarming charm, and within minutes the room is his. His crowd work is exemplary, operating with the peripheral vision of a hawk. He’s street-smart, adorable, and brimming with stories — but crucially, he knows how to shape them into something more than just anecdotes.

This isn’t an everyman journey; it’s distinctly his voice, filtered through equal parts mischief and hard-earned honesty. He takes us from his childhood fascination with Billy Elliot, to the awkward theatre of trying to impress girls with a Eurovision-presenter accent, to the killer scenario of “What Would Chris Martin Do?” that has the audience doubled over. There are riffs on boyfriends politely referred to as “the special friend,” and a self-confessed obsession with Hollyoaks. It’s fizzy, playful Fringe fare — warm, accessible, and laugh-out-loud funny.

And then, in the final third, almost imperceptibly, the ground shifts. What could have remained charming stand-up deepens into something more intricate, more theatrical. Where another comic might have lost momentum, Lake leans in, sharpening the material and broadening its scope. It remains funny, but it becomes something else too: a carefully woven exploration that entertains even as it interrogates.

Here, Lake conjures a kind of story-scape — layered, evocative, almost novelistic in rhythm. He isn’t merely telling jokes but guiding us through a world: one where performance can feel like a prison. It is stunning, assured, and crafted with a confidence that suggests not just growth, but the arrival of a comedian on the next level entirely.

By the end, the crowd aren’t just laughing with him — they’re invested, caught hook, line, and sinker. What began as a sparkling Fringe hour lands as something more ambitious: a piece of comedy that is brilliantly playful, cutting, and unafraid to stretch its form.

*****

Reviewed by Steve H

Monkey Barrel – Tron

Time 13.30

Until date 24th Aug