When I tried to book tickets for Trevor Noah, they were sold out. When I trudged towards the box office the way was walled with Trevor Noah posters with huge “SOLD OUT – NO MORE TICKETS WILL BE RELEASED!!” banners slapped across them. Closer in these switched to “TREVOR NOAH – SOLD OUT – ABANDON ALL HOPE.” When I got to the box office in the Assembly Theatre to see if there was a waiting list for tickets, the guy said “Honestly, mate, we could have a thousand drop-outs for this one and we still couldn’t release any more tickets”.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by this so I persisted, and eventually convinced him to take my number down and call me if any came up. So it was with a certain smugness that I fielded a call fifteen minutes before the show started informing me that some tickets had come available if I was still interested? Yes I was.
Worth it? Definitely. Side-splittingly funny and, in parts, thought-provoking enough to justify the fact that a lot of the humour is borne out of stereotypes, funny accents, even the odd toilet gag. Good comedians push the line of social acceptability a few times throughout their set – Trevor Noah seems to live on that line and doesn’t ever deviate from it for any significant stretch of time.
He also manages to avoid even suggesting offence, impressive given that the topics covered include British binge drinking, ebola, shifting airline prejudices, more ebola, Charlie Hebdo, Oscar Pistorius, and an interesting take on Scottish racism. In fact his take on everything is interesting – he approaches his subject matter from a wide range of angles, with perspectives that don’t necessarily spring straight to mind, and gives his audience a great laugh and plenty to chew over mentally in the process.
Next time he’s playing near you, book well in advance.