SIMON AMSTELL
St David’s Hall
The thinking man’s comic Simon Amstell, most famous for his acid-tongued, quick-fire brilliance hosting Never Mind the Buzzcocks, provided some intriguing insights into life, love and death on his visit to Cardiff.

His delicate soul searching revealed an intelligent, thoughtful, slightly fragile young man with a penchant for guys on the wrong side of skinny. All excellent material for a stand up routine and a welcome change to the brashness of some other comic geniuses to grace our capital city this year.

The aspirational title of the ‘do nothing’ show gives a philosophical peek into the world of a disillusioned young man on the brink of his thirties equally unsure of where things are going and where they might have been: a concept not unfamiliar to his floppy-haired, cardigan-wearing, cappuccino-sipping audience.

‘Simon Amstell will die.’ As will we all. Not quite what you expect to be reminded of at the beginning of a comedy routine but a poignant beginning to an eclectic mind trip through the power of positive thinking, the perils of dating in the new millennium, and the questionable beauty of angst ridden boys who throw up after every meal. Simon Amstell makes you laugh. At him. At yourself. At this whole crazy image, ambition, technology obsessed society. At the futility of it all.

So why worry? Find a trendy coffee shop, sip that cappuccino, pretend to read Oscar Wilde from underneath your floppy fringe, watch the world go by and do nothing.
Joanna Roberts

SIMON CLAYTON,
CHARLIE BAKER,
MICHAEL SMILEY
Glee Club, Mermaid Quay, Cardiff

Comedian Simon Clayton is in a self-analytical mood as he compères for the evening. He scans the first few rows for some interaction, but instead of mining his audience for cheap laughs he inflicts humorous deprecation on his own life. In his own words, he is the missing link between Ronnie Barker and Danger Mouse’s timid sidekick Penfold. Physically, it’s a decent shout.

Devon comedian Charlie Baker has a lot more self-worth; moving between quick-fire gags and the odd song, he’s irrepressible on stage. There can be a tendency for some comedians to use music as a substitute for actual jokes but Baker finds the right mix between the two - imagining a bizarre world where the Rat Pack originated from the West Country with reworked lyrics such as ‘How do you like your eggs in the morning? I like mine with a…’

On the earlier subject of look-alikes, headliner Michael Smiley could well be Belfast’s answer to Frank Gallagher from Shameless. Long-haired, unshaven and potty mouthed, he has the same brazened ethos as Frank and his humour predominantly revolves around family encounters. He describes his 15-year-old son’s duvet as looking like a painter’s radio and his mother’s behaviour at an interracial marriage as hilariously abhorrent. Smiley ends his set with a rather disturbing jig to Tori Amos’ Professional Widow, snaking his grisly hips towards a woman on the front row – and like the rest of us in attendance, she can’t help but bellow at the sight.
Michael Took

Ffatfi Pfy presents Nyth@Gwdihw
Cardiff

Nyth (or nest in Saesneg) has become one of Cardiff’s most dynamic Welsh language music events. Such is the popularity of Nyth that it’s venturing north to Pwllheli before the decade is out. The reason behind its success is simple; there’s no elitist, exclusivity about Nyth. No cliques and thankfully no attitude. Nyth has a straightforward approach, offering the most experimental Welsh music out there - tonight’s bill alone covers folk, rock, blues and hip-hop.

Gwdihw is a lovely, quaint venue. It feels as though you’ve gatecrashed Christmas dinner down the pub on entry, especially when eyeing the garish Val Doonican pullovers on show - but we’ll let them off, it is Christmas after all. The plucky acoustic musings of Y Cleifion is first - the guitar hooks are crystalline and beatific, but someone really needed to turn the knob up on his mic. Moody chanteuse Elin Parisa is next - a bluesy, bilingual singer who wouldn’t look out of place in some smoked-filled Parisian café. I’m not fond of farewells, but we must say hwyl fawr to Hafaliadau=Equations. This was to be their final gig, pulling the plug on their excitable, punchy pop-punk. Ironically, they sound better stripped down to acoustics with Another Girl a colossal, rousing sing-along. They will be missed. Wild West enthusiasts Sibrydion follow, producing a set ebullient with intelligent rock charm and loony hip-hop/dance hybrid Llwybr Llaethog conclude a great night of eclectically festive music.
Michael Took

RedHanded trips the light fantastic across the capital’s hotspots