If it feels as if Eric Rushton could always be afflicted by audiences’ occasional hesitancy to laugh at a depressed clown, the troubled but talented comic has at least evolved a persona that projects control and confidence in his stand-up, a defence that means that they can’t hate him more than he hates himself.
The Midlander freely admits to slipping into the bleakest troughs of despair sometimes, the pangs and regrets of his romantic yearnings ever painful to his recollection. But his ironic self-satisfaction in his innkeeper performance in his school nativity play finds its echo in his contemporary command of a stage, masochistically toying with the crowd’s discomfort when he asks if they think he’s ugly.
One advantage of isolation and the counselling offered to him by higher education is that Rushton’s encounters with others have frequently brought revelation and reassessment. Though in an effort to raise his libido, he’s now rawdogging social interaction by eschewing medication. His missed personal connections can often feel embellished. Yet there’s a dark emotional truth to his tightly written gags and lean, concise anecdotes. Whatever mistakes he’s making offstage, he’s a clinical technician, flourishing on it.
Eric Rushton: Innkeeper, Monkey Barrel Comedy, until 24 Aug (not 12), 3.20pm