Marcus Brigstocke is looking for his happy place. Not a euphemism. Well not just a euphemism. Brigstocke owns his social privilege and inclusion, poking fun at it as adroitly as he does his lengthy facial features. He has every reason to be happy. And there's the rub.
Going through his own version of the seven ages of man (or woman – he's a feminist) Brigstocke gently and competently examines when exactly the best time could be to declare full happiness achievable. From toddler counter balancing issues to teenage hormones—and what fun he has imaging what girls go through—there's always a flaw. It's a clever device that allows him to neatly move around with his material, allowing for a primary school yard metaphor for party politics, and a less formed insight into his recent break-up. Probably the subject of next year's show from the self-confessed "over sharer."
Brigstocke is sensitive and talented – a potent combination that conjures up a veritable Loony Tunes catalogue of cartoon imagery, transferring real world askew imagery and ideas into quality slapstick. He is a comic who exercises both your laughing gear and your thinking muscles with a workout.
Brigstocke has a friendly long face, used to great effect as it twists in semi-mock anger and frustration at the smaller things in life as well as the bigger. With a happy place of sorts discovered and generously shared at the closing, the parting note is one of semi-precious joy.