Morgan Rees: What A Bummer – The Stand, Glasgow

Television executives hardly ever fare well in stand-up anecdotes. And so it proves in Morgan Rees’ latest show, as the Welsh comic recounts one that complimented him for his telegenic versatility. Or at least for being queer but not looking it.

Now, there’s a lot to unpack there. And Rees does a good job of conveying how stunned the remark left him. But having somehow convinced himself that he was straight a long time into adulthood and during his first delivery of fellatio to a man, the comic is highly conscious of his cis appearance and privilege.

And much of What A Bummer is given over to that appearance, with the bearish Rees wrestling with his body issues. A hosting role at Glastonbury and the chance to meet his idol Lorde was more than motivation for him to try to pull off his desired crop top and miniskirt look.

He lays on the physical self-deprecation pretty relentlessly, with the strapping performer’s abnormally short legs a rich source of inspiration for his expressive act outs. Unfortunately, he also rather uncharacteristically gabbles slightly nervily through his opening 15 minutes of crowd-calibrating filth. And he’s in danger of eclipse by his more at ease support act, Sam Lake, who follows his introduction.

Rees stabilises once he retakes the stage. But this remains a curiously lop-sided show. Naturally, there’s a fair bit of exposition at the start about his relationship with his femme partner. And with food, tied to his working-class insecurities. A routine about the shared characteristics of the gay and far-right initially seems gratuitous but becomes thoughtful, persuasive, funny.

Yet the final third of the show is absolutely stacked with revelations, any one of which most comics would isolate to base a single show around.

They include the child Rees’ part in and perpetuation of a news scandal; what could euphemistically be described as his “Joel Dommett moment”; a terrible family tragedy shared only for greater context, and realisation of the truism that you ought never to meet your heroes, at least not when you’re off your head and liable to go viral online.

Suffice to say, the incident at the heart of the media scandal remains hilarious and inexplicable, as his misguided teacher doubled down on her outrageous assignment setting. Living up to its insane demands, Rees reads out his coursework with all of its blithe teenage lack of self-awareness, full of aggrieved adolescent pouting and flouncing at the expense of his poor parents.

This also ties into the best section of the show, about introducing his mum and dad to his partner for the first time – a moment that’s universally relatable for the anxiety it induces. Also for seemingly explaining his faults, supposedly off-setting his responsibility for his personality. Superbly told, with almost wince-inducing ironies, it’s a wonderful bit that testifies to Rees’ writing capabilities.

If the entire show had the clarity, punch and personal flailing of these closing routines he’d be glorying in a rave. But he’s less certain on the establishing material. And he takes rather too long forging a proper connection with the crowd, visibly disappointed that his prideful admission of his penchant for miniskirts doesn’t get the whoops of affirmation he’d desired, the audience not sufficiently warmed up by this point.