Freddie Meredith has found a vocal supporter in Jamie Demetriou. And his act contains echoes of Demetriou’s idiot manchild creation, the hapless letting agent Stath. Both are relentlessly eager to ingratiate, more-or-less blessed with utter, bulletproof ignorance of their pitifulness and strangely loveable because of it. But while Stath often feels like an alien making a bad fist of trying to pass as a human, Meredith is a recognisable archetype, the guy determined to be seen as a nightclub legend despite all evidence to the contrary.
Rocking up in a leather jacket and jeans combo, with cycle helmet, his standard introduction turns on its head the age-old icebreaker of offering a light. With his mobile phone projected for all to see, his scrolling, like his fondly wistful memories of former nights out, are hilarious in their unwitting testimony and his obliviousness to what was going on. But despite the crassness of his approaches and desperate efforts to connect, the writing is subtle and the performance deceptively nuanced.
Best of all, as the hour progresses, the character evolves from simply forcing audience members to converse with him to winning over the entire crowd, attaining some of that legendary status he never doubted he deserved.
Freddie Meredith: Need a Light?, Pleasance Courtyard, until 30 Aug (not 18), 5.50pm