THERE'S something inherently admirable about Ross Noble's career. Aside from the odd toe-curling appearance on the likes of Richard & Judy, the man has barely shown his face on television, opting for radio as the main media outlet for his carefree ra
mblings. The 33-year-old Tynesider has sharpened his comedic claws from rabid stage work, however, and gained a massive following along the way. His army of fans know the number one rule of a Noble show: leave gifts at the front of the stage at the interval and watch in awe as he weaves his comedy whimsy in and around the most minuscule threads of inspiration.
In recent times, Noble's obsession with hoarding "nonsense" items has taken on a poignant new resonance. Having set up home in Australia with his wife and newborn, he lost pretty much everything in the bush fires which ravaged rural Victoria earlier this year. Other comics would have knocked up a concept show out of such gross misfortune, but Noble simply mentions it in passing before scuttling his way down a less profound comedy rabbit hole. Similarly, his fresh fatherly status and the scar he displays from a recent motorbike accident are tossed to the wind in favour of freewheeling anarchy about Duncan Bannatyne's manner, the way a latecomer ran hamster-like to his front-row seat and the pranks you can get up to in lifts.
What you see with Ross Noble is what you get, and by their very nature, long periods of his shows fail to hit any kind of mark; you can't help but agree with the line he borrows from mid-90s Rich Hall about "the thin line between entertainment and a hostage situation". Eddie Izzard created art while appearing to make his scripted surrealism up on the spot. Ross Noble really is rollercoasting on the hoof.
The full article contains 317 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
