ichard Herring - Hitler Moustache

It's a tough life being an almost-top comedian. While your more popular (but less credible) counterparts are appearing on QI and packing in the crowds at arena gigs, you have to struggle on being almost-noticed by the mainstream and attempting to make a living. In Richard Herring's case, this means writing a show for the Edinburgh Fringe each year and then making a living by touring it around the country. In particular this year it's meant him growing a moustache which makes him look like a well-known 20th century dictator, and seeing how society reacts. Not well, you'd think. Once you've shaved down a full beard into a square inch of velcro beneath your nostrils, à la Charlie Chaplin, there's no hiding place. Passers-by look at you with bemused concern, casting agents fail to take you seriously, and your parents shudder at the thought of you turning up all Adolf-like at their golden wedding celebrations. There you go, the full 100-minute comedy set almost writes itself. But Richard digs rather deeper than this glib set-up might suggest, exploring the audience's subliminal prejudices and exposing the self-defeating arguments of racism. There are plenty of laughs in this, as well as plenty of food for thought every time Richard stops and dissects something risqué that everyone's just laughed at. The BNP get quite a bashing, as one would hope and expect, while Carol Thatcher (and her mum) get a look in too. Richard admitted on Friday night how relieved he was that, despite sporting an additional Hitlertache for several weeks, no sympathetic BNP voter had yet stopped him in the street and applauded him on his look. Alas, on his journey home a bald racist on Shepherd's Bush Green did precisely that, so I suspect Saturday's show may have had to be slightly tweaked. Nevertheless, I can heartily recommend Richard's brave mix of crude insults and psychological polemic. He's at the Leicester Square Theatre for one more week, then off on a tour in non-huge venues all around the country. And don't forget your toothbrush moustache (you can pick one up in a bucket on the way out, and maybe help reclaim Chaplin's facial fuzz for the common good).