Josh Thomas rushes on stage and begins as if he’s already been talking to us for the last two hours and is just back from a comfort break to take up the next stage of the story. There’s no preamble, no easing in. No, it’s straight into his ADHD diagnosis (nine years ago – back when it was still interesting, he suggests) and the more recent discovery that he is autistic as well.
Of course it is possible that you do already know him. The Australian comedian has not one but two sitcoms to his name, Please Like Me and Everything’s Going to Be Okay. But this is his first proper Edinburgh Fringe run, so to some this will be an introduction to his style.
And it’s distinctive. Thomas is a comedian who doesn’t feel the need to invite his audience into his world or share what he has in common with the rest of us. This is not about us. This is about him. He just presumes that you’re already on board as he verbalises his inner monologues while twisting his hair around his fingers.
That’s the challenge of the show – that you care as much about his life as he does – but also its reward (if you go with him). Because he has so much to say and he says a lot. The words pour out of him in a giddy stream of oversharing that is both fascinating and funny, once you tune into his wavelength. (Not everyone will, I suspect.)
Let’s Tidy Up, as the title implies, is about Thomas’s inability to keep his room in straight order. That might seem a little unpromising. But it’s also about loneliness in Los Angeles, boyfriends, Tinder, dogs, gardens, gophers, trains and therapy (or his rejection of it).
It’s a slightly giddy affair. Anecdotes nest inside other anecdotes. There are theatrical moments too (the show was written with playwright Lally Katz who is also a character in the story), which add another texture. There’s even a dance sequence.
Is this a three or a four star show? That will depend on whether you are willing to enter fully into Thomas’s world. If so, this is a clever, funny, intimate show that doesn’t offer belly laughs but provides a constant endorphin hit.
Qualms? I’m not sure the final dramatic monologue is quite as punchy as a climax might require, but that aside this feels like meeting a guest at a party who wants to tell you everything and, for once, you want to hear it.
Josh Thomas: Let’s Tidy Up, 18.20, Pleasance Courtyard – Pleasance Two, until August 25
