Choosing the light entertainment vehicle to tattoo you indelibly into the public consciousness can make or break you as a comedian and with Backchat Jack Whitehall has brought along his dad to hold his hand. “75 year-old gout ridden father Michael” functions as his sidekick, mentor and recipient of recurring George Burns age jokes. If this seems familiar you may recall Adam Buxton doing something quite similar with his father Nigel (“Baaad Dad”) on the Adam and Joe Show. Michael is a posh old boy (quelle surprise), an amalgam of John Bird and John Fortune, equal parts befuddled and dismayed by the modern world. Deadpan dinner table family banter abounds.
Jeremy Paxman‘s first up and Jack does an extended and unfunny riff on Paxman’s interview style. Whitehall senior is pretty funny though. He hands Paxman a copy of Him & Me, the book he wrote with his son, with the chapters Jack wrote taken out (“it’s now called Me“), and Paxman appreciates the gesture. Danny Dyer rolls up to plug his latest revenge movie and it’s dull.
Jack Whitehall has never really been funny and this is the only time in history in which he would have been a professional comedian. Not content with their hegemony over commerce, politics and the civil service the privileged now commandeer traditional working-class careers with the effortless sense of entitlement that defines them.
Not content with their hegemony over commerce, politics and the civil service the privileged now commandeer traditional working-class careers.
He’s a posh boy giving something a spin because his family’s resources allows him infinite failures. You will find his kind in landfill indie bands, turding around the comedy circuit or writing shitbox columns in the national press handed to them by a family friend. 20 years ago 1% of music chart acts had a private education – now it’s 60%.
You will find his kind in landfill indie bands, turding around the comedy circuit or writing shitbox columns in the national press handed to them by a family friend
None of which matters I suppose but Whitehall is nervous here – his comic technique is shaky and the script is weak. There are only so many father-son contrivances the premise can support. He wasn’t born to this. Michael is funnier. As with the legion of posh kids up and down the country daddy is bailing him out again.
The verdict: Papa’s got a brand new colostomy bag.
Marks out of 10: 6