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IT WAS every audience's nightmare. Less than 10 of us had turned up to see a stand-up show that we knew nothing about, and now the comedian had joined us in the bar and was offering to buy us all drinks. He requested a big round of applause when he came on stage, and insisted we pretend we hadn't already met. Our spirits sank further. Escape was impossible.
He started off in the jungle and ended up on the moon, although he used no props and even shunned the microphone. In the course of the performance, he cracked only one actual joke (about serving in the Vietnam War - as a waiter), and yet he sustained an almost constant ripple of laughter. Sixty minutes later, I stumbled out of Eddie Izzard's first one-man show, wondering whether I'd seen a great comic in the making, or a gifted confidence trickster. Nearly five years later, I'm still not sure.
This week, Izzard began a seven-week solo run in the West End. Last year, he sold out an extended run at the Ambassadors Theatre - a feat which won him a string of rave reviews from such unlikely sources as the Daily Mail and Daily Telegraph, plus the ITV Comedy Award for best live act of the year. However the Albery is twice the size, and this season is twice as long. In box-office terms, at the very least, Izzard, aged 31, has arrived.
Izzard has invented a stand-up variation that's entirely his own. Surreal and stream of consciousness are lazy descriptions. Rather, his routines resemble jazz riffs - constantly mutating. Often these detours turn into culs-de-sac, whereupon he admits...