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Review: Reginald D Hunter and Glenn Wool bring unashamed, uncensored humour to Ipswich Regent

PUBLISHED: 23:39 25 June 2017 | UPDATED: 23:39 25 June 2017

Reginald D Hunter. Picture: DANIEL CHESTERTON/STELLA PICTURES

Reginald D Hunter. Picture: DANIEL CHESTERTON/STELLA PICTURES

© Stella Pictures.+44 7813 022858.www.stellapictures.co.uk

Nothing was taboo or off limits, everything was original and witty, and if anyone was offended then, well, as they said, they didn’t come to see you.

Reginald D Hunter, the acerbic comic from Georgia, USA and his Canadian warm-up Glenn Wool, a manic stage preacher who can go from 0 to 60mph quicker than a swan fleeing a very unpleasant attack (a joke for those who attended), were perfect Sunday night guests at Ipswich Regent.

It was third time lucky for the gig. It was originally planned for the Corn Exchange on June 8, which Theresa May inconveniently made General Election night. It was moved to the Regent for the following night, then the headline act broke his leg (a simple fall over luggage in an unlit hotel bedroom, he revealed). So here we were, finally all gathered.

Would it be unfair to compare Glenn Wool to Jack Black? In physical appearance, delivery style, and even content and accent, he resembled the actor. He ran the comedy gamut from unfortunate incidents involving swans and war veterans to children on planes and Michael Schumacher, who, he remarked, “wouldn’t bat an eyelid”.

His rage monologues and alternative slant on society may not be original concepts, but they were committed, purposeful, insightful, and, of course, funny.

We were truly warmed up for Reginald, who wheeled himself on stage after a shortened interval. “Sorry for America - sorry for Trump,” he announced almost immediately.

He gave a self-admitted wistful performance, touching on his relationship with his father, but there was plenty of room for some chair-grabbing belly laughs. A small legion of Twitter “racists”, Jermaine Greer, Brexit, and the BBC are all implicated.

It was outlandish, distinguished humour dispatched at various speeds without fear or regret. It was observational, sometimes touching, sometimes mad-house lunacy, and all good fun.

As Reginald said himself, we were a nice warm bath for him. And who doesn’t want that on a Sunday night?


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