Rachel Jackson is a certified hit with tonight's audience. Thanking us as the hour draws to a close, she asks that we spread word of Bunny Boiler to our friends, stating with conviction that the show deserves an audience. Few present would challenge her on this point. Still, the comedian's lack of humility at this moment is notable because it chimes with the impression that no one is more amused by Jackson's antics than she herself.
After an intriguing, offbeat introduction, this settles into a shoddily assembled series of reminiscences about the romantic misadventures that marked her twenties. While some of these stories have legs, not all are particularly remarkable. Getting dumped over social media, for example, is an indignity many will have first hand experience of. Equally mundane but horrifically misjudged is an account of dating an autistic man with poor social skills.
Her abusive four-year relationship with a cult leader is referred to on numerous occasions and threatens to offer a glimpse into a strange and darkly compelling world, but all Jackson divulges is that he liked to be pissed on, not a terribly obscure fetish in itself.
Having been an actor far longer than a comedian, this feels more like an audition for Jackson's 'fun mad' persona than the honest hour of self expression Bunny Boiler purports to be.