Tom Ward is both compere and headline act of tonight’s show (“cuts,” he explains), which makes him effectively the warm up act for his own warm up act. So underwhelming is our response when he first hits the stage, however, that we are made to do it again, to give a welcome more befitting to a talented comic touring the country (“he’s like an angry teacher!”, the man behind me comments). It is worth it, though, as the crowd’s energy is much better the second time around (you know what English people are like; we need explicit permission just to cough, let alone whoop and shriek).

Ward opens up by “getting to know us” via a little questionnaire he proceeds to visit upon random members of the audience. With his incredible Ian Brownesque mod mop a subject of the first couple of questions (“Was Hayley Cropper, Anne Robinson or Angela Merkel the main inspiration?”), we are quickly moved into more risque territory. (“Who's come here with someone they love? Someone they used to love? Who's forgiven their mum?”) His crowd work - surely the most difficult and nervewracking part of a stand up’s job - is outstanding, and the chortles are well and truly in full effect by time the the official warm up, Rob Copland, joins us.

Copland has perhaps the most esoteric range of subjects I have ever seen from a comedian. Opening with his favourite section of the alphabet (“LMNOP, am I right? The rest of it is just a joyless chore.”), he is soon onto tapestries and hide and seek before finishing with the more workaday theme of, erm, working every day (“I don’t mind having a job,” he explains, “it’s having to do the job every day that I resent.”) But in Copland’s hands, even that soon becomes an extended soliloquy on the schizophrenic relationship between goalkeeper and ball. Looking like Eugene Hutz in a parallel universe in which he’d only ever experienced first world problems and then become a science teacher, he has some wondrous physical routines, augmented with impressive verbal dexterity and all washed down with some killer one liners and generous lashings of weirdness. Definitely a comic intent on ploughing his own furrow.

Tom Ward chooses more relatable subject matter, such as house prices (“my friend is a fairly typical homeowner - he bought his house in 1987 for £1.29, retiled the bathroom, and now it’s worth £1.2.million”), coffee shops (“all staffed by the same boy - 24 years old, blonde, called Theo, and looks like July in Hitler’s personal calendar”), and our lack of sympathy towards the psychological pain of rich people (you had to be there!). Ward has an impressive knack of being able to make potentially depressing subjects - such as climate catastrophe and, erm, depression - consistently hilarious, and manages to touch on some polarising issues without coming across as either preachy, or trivialising. In these days of culture wars, the ability to do that in a way that will appeal to all is impressive. But, far more importantly, it is side-splittingly funny. Go and see him if you get the chance.

For me, the most enjoyable element of a live stand-up comedy show, besides the humour, is that the interactions between the host, comedians, and the audience can most likely never be recreated again; you are part of something unique for a few hours. And concerning the most recent Stand-Up Saturday at The Bullingdon, I have to add interactions with the physical venue in the mix as well.

The Saturday night audience saw Jonnie Price, Jim Smallman, and Keith Farnan take the stage, hosted by Carly Smallman (is she distantly related to Jim?). It was nice to get a variety of stage personas and jokes ranging from self-deprecation, to poking fun at audience members, to criticising the political state of the world. Host Carly Smallman effortlessly warmed up the audience; with a hen party and stag party occupying the first two rows, the jokes wrote themselves. While her use of profanities directed towards the mothers of the bride and groom were uncomfortable to witness, she incorporated memorable segments on the plights of online dating and was clearly comfortable interacting with the audience and making fun of herself. I would like to see her full routine in the future.

Jonnie Price's jokes focused on bodies and bathrooms. He began by poking fun at his own physique and Topman sizing with the oxymoronic 'XXXL slim fit' shirt. Most of his jokes after that incorporated personal narratives featuring overflowing bubble baths, food poisoning, and lack of toilet rolls. I would have liked for Price to venture out of the tub and toilet and include more humour from other realms, but if that is his trademark then he stuck to it well.

Jim Smallman called on past stories of his schoolteacher days and then pre-teen daughter. He engaged the teachers of the audience in a discussion of whether students should know the teacher's first name, and told us how he tricked his classes into thinking his name was many other J-names except for Jim or James. Some of Smallman's punchlines forced you to think one step ahead to understand the humour, which had a satisfying comedic effect once you saw the audience's staggered laughter as it clicked. Much of the set focused on his daughter, but more so with cute stories rather than jokes. However, you can tell he is a proud dad and he successfully highlights the comedic bits of these family stories.

Keith Farnan was the final act and seemed to be the most comfortable on stage. In contrast to the previous comedians, he made fun of himself to a lesser degree and dedicated his time to bigger topics: Brexit, Trump, Russia, and homophobia. This is the type of humour I had expected to encounter at the event, but the punchlines were original; in mixing world topics with unexpected jokes, Farnan had, in my opinion, the funniest set. The highlight of the night was when a wire above the stage became unraveled just as Farnan was addressing how some day God would smite him during a set; the timing could not have been any better. This wire immediately drew the audience together in a debate of whether Farnan should touch it or not, and allowed him to exhibit spontaneous humour, which was just as good as his rehearsed material.

Overall, the evening was not consistently laugh-out-loud hilarious compared to shows with more famous names in American and British comedy that I have grown accustomed to, but for a small venue in Oxford it was an enjoyable way to spend a Saturday night. I am glad that there was a mix of delivery styles and a range of topics employed as comedic focal points; it would have been easy for everyone to make the same quips about hen parties and Brexit but this was not the case.

Glee Club is a bit like lucky dip. The setting is great, the service excellent, the ambiance enjoyable and the wrapper colourful. Whether you like what’s unwrapped on the night is personal – some do, some don’t.

The uproarious atmosphere helps. Looking around the intimate space with the revolving disco ball and the upbeat sound track, the tables are full. There’s a loving couple, dangerously near the mike, a Thunderbirds stag party with the bearded groom dressed as Lady Penelope, a lady wrestler and friend, and a man behind me clutching a giant teddy bear, who waves the bear’s arm, every time he catches my eye.

Enthusiastically unveiling the comic talent, creating the roar, was heavily tattooed compere, Jim Smallman. His comic wit showed teeth, yet no marks. It was a bit like Woody Harrelson in True Detective, putting on the gloves before putting in the boot.

In addition to orchestrating the applause from polite to fever pitched, Smallman was skilful in eliciting personal information from the most reluctant punter.

‘So she’s a higher rank than you. Is that what you’re saying?’ Smallman concluded in a bashful exchange with an RAF flight-crew attendant and his glamorous – but discreet – partner.

A trio of comics were then unleashed.

Alex Boardman’s bespectacled Mancunian combined Northern directness with surreal flights of fancy. His shaggy giraffe story was a classic, and his tales of family life and the shortcomings of age won quick wins from the audience, and a deluge of laughter.

Rob Rouse’s material was – for me – a bit recherché. I suppose having a rectal examination for suspected prostate cancer can only run so far. Yet there was no doubt about it: the audience enjoyed the full body mime.

Adam Bloom was least well served, coming last in the line up. Still, the audience laughed some more. Bloom put his entire comic persona into his lines – the self-confessed boggly eyed geek still had an eye for the ladies. ‘How come I’ve got the microphone and you’re still winning?’ he told a feisty member of the audience.

Lascivious, daring, wild and quick-fire – at the Glee Club you take your pick. Just don’t sit too close to the mike. Or they’ll take the mick.

Glee Club guarantees good times. Saturday's show was a spectacular success just as every one that I've been to in the past has been. Why? Because they know what they are doing.

And what do they do? Well, they rotate a pool of the finest UK comedy acts and produce shows extremely professionally. The acts are diverse, they are people who you will see on Live at the Apollo or your favourite panel show in the future, if indeed they haven't broken into your television set already. Glee Club engineer the occasion for optimum enjoyment, with a well lit stage and decent PA system, music that gradually builds up the tempo until the acts come on, a great range of drinks - four pint pitchers, cocktails, good service, and even surprisingly tasty and reasonably priced food. The tables and chairs are set in an arc, their trapezium shape designed to give you plenty of space, you feel part of your smaller group but also part of a close-together ready-to-giggle audience. Years of practice has made perfect.

Stand-up comedy in the UK is still hovering somewhere around its zenith it seems and the best clubs like Glee call upon gems that have been honing their skills for many years.

Rory O'Hanlon is our host, sacrificing a tonne of no doubt brilliant material to do the all important and often underestimated job of compering the occasion. He does it supremely well, engaging with the front row and breaking down that formal fourth-wall barrier that needs to be eliminated if we're to enjoy the delights that follow. He makes everyone feel welcome and at-ease. His improvising skills are there, effortlessly creating friendly jokes on the spot, adding the odd tried and tested line, tackling some over-exuberant drunken manliness to his left and setting the lovely tone of the evening.

Laughter engines cranked, we are swiftly introduced to our first act, Luke Honnoraty, an extremely endearing and affable young man with boy-next-door Devonshire charm who eases in with some self-deprecating gags about his appearance and proceeds to bring hilarity out of the everyday. He has natural chatty delivery and a particularly subtle call-back about the changing attitude towards Walls Vienetta desserts.

Glee Club know what they are doing and keep sets down to an optimum length of 20 minutes in an act-break-act-break-act format that facilitates drinking, socialising and concentrated comedy fun.

After the first break, Dane Baptiste takes the stage. Slightly more dangerous a presence but ultimately friendly, he creates mock-awkwardness by asking the couple who the compere found had been together for three months, "so you bought her a valentine's present yes?". Cue short awkward silence and audience laugh. He's in the zone, working the room. Richard has some very well-crafted intelligent gags and his use of language would be celebrated in literature circles if it was ever exposed to them I'm sure. He has tremendous poise and presence on stage and weaves a lot of satire into his set in a very subtle way. His most memorable section is about girls looking for a gay best friend and his quest therefore to have a lesbian best friend. He builds up the laughter volume to a peak. Or so we think.

After the second break our headline act explodes on to the stage with such giddiness that the room is almost instantly out of control. Charlie Baker is a comedy force-to-be-reckoned-with whose future will be bigger and shinier than his beaming chubby face. He is a live wire performer rammed with talent who tickles you in places that you haven't been tickled since you were really small and very tickly. Aside from being devastatingly funny he is also a great singer and uses his singing talents to deliver snippets of hilarious, swear-y versions of jazz classics. He has everything: unique material, improv skills and great timing.

It's fantastic to witness a comedian who is completely in control and in the zone bring a show to a brilliant climax. That is only possible when people who know what they are doing create the conditions for it to happen.

The staff even know how to subtley ask the odd drunken people to stop talking late on in the show without any fuss.

Go to the Glee Club, you'll see a huge diversity of professional comics from all sorts of backgrounds enjoying making you laugh. Trust me, you are in safe hands.

Glee also do one-offs of bigger name comedian's tours, watch out for Sean Walsh on April 24th.

Greg Burns, Jim Park, Liam Williams, Gary Delaney - Glee Club.

Saturday night at the Glee Club can be a patchy and chaotic experience and this one was no exception. As one comedian noted, there was a baton of idiocy being passed between two groups – one stag night and the other some “lone wolf”, who were insisting their own interruptions (heckling should involve some wit) be the focus of the evening for an audience of nearly 300. The compère, Greg Burns, handled it very well and while I dislike comedy club meanness and bullying, this was entirely deserved and the offenders were turned upon with admirable fearlessness, finally being dispatched by the bouncers.

Opening with pretty standard audience participation, this puppyish geezer and seasoned DJ was assured and amiable, doing more of a routine following the first act. Jim Park’s act was not an auspicious start. No amount of jokes at his own expense redeemed his act, and it was both painful and irritating to endure. It’s a courageous thing to perform like this, but a comedian this lame should not be taking up people’s time. Sample convoluted joke – something about falling into a big pot of pasta and thus having a big “carbonara footprint”.

Liam Williams was superb. Managing to combine cockiness with coruscating self-deprecation, his act was droll and clever. Musing on relationships, parents and the planet, one of his funniest moments in an act of exhilarated despair was hoping that it be assured a grim fate, since the only thing worse than social injustice and global catastrophe is being proven wrong. Like Stewart Lee, he manages to skewer his own self-indulgence; only a genuinely intelligent smart-ass could observe that “people say ‘George Orwell must be spinning in his grave.’ No. He’d be thinking, ‘Yes! I got it right!”.

Looking like one of the Hairy Bikers and delivering a volley of one-liners in the style of a gleefully rude Tim Vine, I’d recommend anyone see Gary Delaney perform. His jokes are so brief and densely concentrated that it simply isn’t possible to get them all in one sitting. He is as earthy and likeable as his wife Sarah Millican but being less cake-centric (which isn’t difficult). I thought his material was better and broader, and his chuckles at his own jokes were infectious in the good way. A sample of these, which work just as well in “print” - http://somegags.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/gary-delaney-jokes.html, but I love this one – “Correlation does not imply causality, but the more I say things like that the fewer people want to talk to me.”

By and large, a fun, social night that remains one of the best that Oxford offers and the brevity of each of the acts ensures that, like its buses used to be, there will always be another along soon if one fails.

JoJo Smith opened up for the acts with what appeared to be zero pre-rehearsed material. She literally played off the audience at hand, making up instantaneous judgment calls and improvised jokes on the spot. And she did not disappoint. Vacillating between the scolding parole officer type and a loving, outspoken auntie that likes her drink, she went up and down the audience mixing her unique blend of praise and insults. Not too much to either side to seriously offend - just enough to grab your attention and rile you up before the main acts of the night. She inspired the perfect mix of fear and adoration amongst the crowd. 

Intermissions were placed between performers and here again Glee did not disappoint. They offer a variety of wine from £2.25 upwards and pints from £3.20. They had numerous menu options with creative veggie and non-veggie bites for under £5. Unlike other venues that hold you hostage once you are inside and charge you overpriced rates (think airport food vendors), Glee seems to be rewarding you for being their guest.  Wait-staff were incredibly friendly, efficient and attentive and were intent on being a positive part of your comedy experience from start to finish. You can eat and drink before and during the show, which adds a nice component to the experience. 

Gavin Webster was the final act of the night, with a different style than the others, doing more one-off, one-liner type jokes mixed with irony and impressions. He, too took the comments of an audience member and incorporated it into his act, showing a real talent for rolling with the punches that come with doing a live performance.

And so we did. Good humour abounded – even before host Andy Robinson warmed up the crowd. He was from Birmingham, but he was quick to retalitate. His technique was particularity and fear. A threesome of girls was plentyoffish.com; a bodybuilder eating for two a ‘fat bastard’; a buttoned up man called James berated until he took his coat off. And his girlfriend’s. Still, Robinson liked one thing about the audience: they’d ‘come out and enjoyed people face-to-face’.

But when Paul Sinha took the stage, the humour entered another dimension. An Indian, Bengali, gay ex-doctor, his jokes were savage, quickfire hits, each building on the previous sharp observation, delivered with conviction and a feeling of controlled anger.

A bold declaration of Sinha's sexual orientation had women whooping. Sinha stared out into the crowd, he understood their cheers. ‘Hooray, this repulsive man will not want to f*** me’, he said. Sharing his sexuality with his parents delivered him a new status within the family: ‘just below a leper and just above a gay leper.’

The Glee Club remains one of Oxford’s most fun venues – well worth discovering, no matter what the line-up. So don’t stay in. Robinson’s waiting. Take a punt. He will.

Andy Robinson hosted the evening with a likeable persona and good patter. Because of the format of the night, most of his material took the form of an extended birthday shout out, but it was very sweetly done. When he ventured into his own material it was clever and unexpected - I'd love to see him do a proper set.

Noel James was, for me, the weak point of the evening. His material wasn't bad, and initially I enjoyed the quick fire of clever/stupid jokes - nothing surprising, but competent. Soon, though, the routine got way too old fashioned for me. Jokes about beating women and "spazzes" don't sit easily with me. A Robert De Niro impression is almost worse. I did love his closing joke, though - "I've been a star tonight... by which I mean, by the time you see me, I've already died." Quite.

Despite the birthday party vibe, this was a good night out. It's nice to have a sampler of acts who you wouldn't normally see, and out of four, I'd go to see three again, which isn't bad odds. 

A triple bill at Oxford’s Glee Club might not push the comedy envelope, but tonight it offered dependable fun.

The first act Steve Shanyaski managed to quickly win over the audience with a routine about drunken girlfriends and regret. He was affable, Northern and unaffected. After a slow start, he won round the crowd and carried us all along with him. He was daft and physical, endearing and sharp.

Ron G, on the other hand, gave us a quickfire delivery which did not quite take the audience along for the ride. He invited us along into his world, but didn’t really tell us enough about it for his material to hit home. Based around his family and growing up in the American South, his act might work with a better rapport. Maybe we missed the point, but the Atlantic should not be such a wide gulf.

Paul McCaffery, by contrast, very quickly had the crowd eating from the palm of his hand with a routine about speeding fines and petty annoyances. That is not to say it wasn’t funny - it was - and along with our compere Andy Robinson, Paul McCaffery was by far the best of the three comedians tonight at pitching to the audience. He was genial, likeable and down to earth.

But the most comfortable and able comedian of the night was the compere, Andy Robinson. It’s a rare night when the crowd look forward to the compere taking over but in this case we got a genial but snarky compere, who played off the audience without relying on us for his jokes.

Maybe it’s too much to expect from the Glee Club on a Saturday night, but I might have expected a bit more pushing of the boundaries, some material that is harder than standard audience banter. That wasn’t on offer tonight, but if you wanted time-tested and solid stand up, then look no further than tonight’s acts.

Glee Club is one of Oxford’s pleasures. Reasonable ticket price, good food, an extensive cocktail menu, and waitress service to small, intimate tables close to the stage make for an enjoyable evening – even before burgeoning international names in comedy step up to entertain.

Saturday night’s hugely enjoyable show featured performers from Australia, Canada – and Bexleyheath.

Aussie Jacques Barrett’s reputation as ‘the guy who flies and never dies’ was once again confirmed in a confident, witty set. Barrett’s stage persona is daringly nondescript. Only someone confident in the strength and originality of their material could appear so unremarkable -  indistinguishable from his audience. It was as though he’d just stepped from behind the bar. His observations, mimicry and timing hit the spot virtually every line.

Barrett lampooned the timidity of Canadians’ humour:  it’s not very funny, but at least no-one got hurt…; the phwoah of Swedes: ‘God pressed Copy Paste'; the pigeon-necked Tourette spasm which struck Barrett Snr when a pooftah salmon came to mind, and the baffling fecundity of Weston-Super-Mare: ‘a pram pushed by a bigger pram’.

Bexleyheath-born Joey Page was less at ease, both with his material and the audience. His stage persona was carefully contrived : drainpipe jeans and a tight fitting jacket, over a leopard-skin blouse and diamante brooch. Oh, and a hat aka Pete Doherty.  If  only his material had been half as interesting and well executed as Barrett’s.

Old timer, Montreal-born Roy Vaudry sauntered on stage clutching his pint. He was totally in command, and looked and sounded as cynical and world-weary as his material: ’72 virgins? That’s not deflowering – that’s deforestation’. His timing was excellent, and ad-libs with the audience assured. He also best adapted to the night:
‘Can you make that light any brighter. I think I can see my dead parents beckoning me forward.’

Compère Ninia Benjamin bounded between sets with energy and confidence. Offstage, she danced brilliantly, and her several acting successes at both Stratford and the Royal Court attest to her dramatic presence.

‘Sometimes I wish I was the environment – at least it’s being f*cked’ Benjamin quipped, in a rare hit. For the most part, Benjamin’s material needed work.  A talented performer – even one deliberately larger than life, like Benjamin - still needs something to say.

The Glee Club is a friendly venue with tables for guests and a wide selection of food available. The evening started well: we were welcomed by the door staff and shown to our table, which was situated close enough to the stage to be able to soak up the atmosphere but so close that we had to join in (unlike the front row). The venue has a reasonably priced bar, and although we didn’t eat, the food looked very good as it was taken to other tables.

The night opened with Taylor Glenn, the MC and American comedienne hosting the evening. She was loud, sarcastic and very capable of deflecting the heckles from one of the large stag parties in that evening. I thought she was  consistently amusing throughout the night, albeit in a slightly more confrontational way than some of the other comedians.  It would be fun to see her perform at a gig in a longer slot as I appreciated her style of humour: slightly acerbic but realistic.

The first act was Liam Mullone. His comedy is based mainly on observational humour drawn from experiences with his family and with his wife during her pregnancy, but also rangers to wider commentary, for example on last year’s riots. His comedy was quite thoughtful and although he did seem slightly nervous at times, was a success.

After the interval, we had Steve Gribbin who came with a guitar, prompting speculation from me and my partner as to the merits of musical comedy. He was extremely satirical, had adapted a wide range of songs to different scenarios, and was completely hilarious.  His material relied mostly on current events and news rather than more personal anecdotes and was extremely well-received.

The last act of the night was Gary Delaney: a comedian specialising in the traditional style of two liner jokes. Although some of these could have been described as predictable, there were still enough funny lines to keep me entertained throughout his section of the show. Again, he was also successfully received by his audience.

Overall, an entertaining evening which I would highly recommend to anyone. I would certainly consider attending again.

Three great comedians graced Oxford’s Glee Club for a night of laughs and hilarity. A vibrant Imran Yusuf, dressed in a bright red suit, introduced the show and warmed the crowd in readiness for the arrival of the first comedian, Paul Thorne.  

Thorne had the audience in stitches straight away bantering with the crowd, choosing members from the front row as his subjects to mock and ridicule.  The sketch seemed unscripted, which was very impressive as his set flowed smoothly with audience interaction.  Funilly enough there were two men in the front row similar looking to Thorne himself, large and bald, which made cracking material as he likened them, as well as himself, to Gollum and Shrek.

After a short break Kerry Godliman took to the stage.  My personal favourite of the evening, Godliman took the personal approach and joked about everyday occurrences in female life, such as babies, hen parties and pregnancy.  The crowd were in hysterics as we heard tales of life from a female perspective.

Last up was Mike Wilmot.  After two superb acts I was expecting the finale to really wow me, however this was not to be.  I found Wilmot to be very crude, which is great if you like that kind of thing, but the jokes seemed repetitive and centred around oral sex.  What’s more alcohol seemed to play a part in the set, as the comic seemed slightly drunk.  Wilmot did pull a few crackers out of the bag sending the crowd wild with laughter, and redeeming himself.

On the whole the night was fantastic and I’ve never laughed so hard! If you want a show that’s a laugh a minute, this is definitely for you.  Each comic had their own style, wit and humour, so if one type of comedy wasn’t you’re bag, the others certainly would be. Highly recommended.