I don’t think that I’ve ever had this level of expectation before a comedy show. We booked our tickets literally on the day that they were released, mid covid, with every restriction imaginable. This was to be the shining light at the end of our lockdown tunnel. We’d even convinced a pal who had to leave London during covid to come back down and join us for this one night… so no pressure then!

The reason that we did all of this is that the three of us have been watching Mae Martin’s career for years. We have watched this clown go from performing in pubs and singing songs about Don Cheadle, zombies and Buffy the Vampire Slayer to crafting captivating note-perfect hours about a life lived clinging on to acceptance, to creating and starring in Feel Good, one of the most brilliant television shows in recent memory.

The evening began with a short set from actor and comedian Jack Barry, who many people will know as one of the more memorable characters from the aforementioned Feel Good. His set was a lot of fun but the audience had come for the headliner and there was a true eruption as our clown for the evening took to the mic.

Despite the increased fame and success, Mae’s on-stage persona is almost unchanged, an awkward yet endearing delivery that masks the incredible amount of hard work that goes in to a performance like this. Our clown has the audience rapt with a host of enjoyable anecdotes about everything from non-binary culture, to past relationships, future plans and childhood memories.

At one point in the show Mae notices that the air conditioning has started leaking and is pouring down on two girls in the sixth row – they didn’t want to complain, because they didn’t want to stop the show! The house lights come up, the girls are moved and given free drinks whilst Mae orchestrates the scene as if it was planned.

The title of the show refers to an old Buddhist proverb about a man trapped between two beasts at the top and bottom of a well. Whilst his current life predicament is indeed harrowing he manages to find enjoyment in discovering the taste of tree sap on the branch he is clinging on to.

The story is told at the closing minutes of the set, almost as an afterthought – given that this clown is the epitome of life lived between a rock and a hard place, one can only wonder why it took Mae so long to unleash it.

Still, it hardly matters, as anything that inspires a confessional from this clown is a joy. In a world filled with such a great variety of fairly horrific beasts, this show is, indeed, sap.

Clown Stars: * * * * *

@Leicester Square Theatre, London

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