Potent polemical humourist Nish Kumar has just turned 41, with the midriff to show for it. Recent forays into podcasting have seen him milder-mannered and mellow: does he still have passion to do angry stand-up comedy? On the evidence of this relentlessly funny barrage of a show, YES!, as he would say, loudly and all in caps.
He sustains the headlong velocity with structured, incisive content and flawless delivery: Kumar has been making serious subjects funny ever since he was president of the debating society at school. The pace never wavers, a feat matched by indefatigable onstage BSL signer Max Marchewicz, whose own contributions weave in and out of the material and include rarely expressed signs for the many, many scatological and physiological parts of the show.
There’s other impressive support for the first half hour from Amy Annette, his partner for the past 14 years. “How did she get this gig?” Kumar says wryly: it soon becomes clear that she’s easily his equal, and deftly complementary.
Charming, open and honest, Annette deftly sidesteps the very real hazard faced by co-habiting comedians – that they coalesce. She provides a perfectly balanced build-up with her own highly amusing personal perspectives. Creditably less breakneck than Kumar, she shares stories from life on tour, especially in the US, where she’s confronted by the small talk about big things, and the ways in which the binary between good and bad have gone, citing the dubious exploits of various otherwise beloved celebs. The chat turns to wellness and beauty as it so often does these days, and she ponders how best to acknowledge a friend’s new face: “Are you going into witness protection?”
Kumar’s cheery, hurly-burly onslaught begins with the ravages of time, the burden of colonialism that’s made him fat, and his peers’ fixation on workout routines. He then moves swiftly through the current affairs hellscape, skewering the tech bros scrambling all our brains, the UK far right spreading poison against London’s Mayor – “The city can’t be overrun by crime and Sharia Law” – and the creepy ‘patriotic’ flags hung everywhere. They’re all about context, he argues; great at the Olympics and football, terrible on a walk to the shops: “I know I’m going to get racially abused.”
He saves much of his bile and venom for the right-wing UK comedian that takes excessive suspect coin to play for dictators and tyrants. And he really doesn’t want to compete on that comedian’s new show “saying how good Bob Mortimer is.”
To offset all the darkness, Kumar makes it clear that he loves the UK, having toured it so widely and met so many decent, conscientious people from the great crowds he always draws. “A comedian makes the audience in his own image, and you are all geeks.”
He runs through the characteristics of all the ‘Gens’ from the Boomers to the Alphas, how they’re variously opposed and equipped, and offers ways in which they can function more effectively together in the current global scenario: “Take the phones off the old people!”
He finds cheer in the new progressive icons like Mandan and Thunberg, and leaves the audience with glimmers of optimism and hope in current and future generations. There’s a lovely interaction with a younger crowd member: “How old are you?” “13.” “You’re pretty smart?” “Yeah!” “We definitely would have been friends.” And Kumar reminds us that the Empire is the venue where he was brought in 1999 to see Goodness Gracious Me stage show that inspired him to take up comedy.
Despite all the swearing, this is a wholesome family show, for weird kids (as Kumar self-identifies) of all ages, with a constructive, anti-apathetic message: “Everyone in this room must not give up. We’re f-ed, but we can’t give up. The reason you’re all here is that someone fought and died for you, and we have debts to pay.”
A lot of other comedians are, perforce, working this apocalyptic seam, but the spin, speed and heartfelt authenticity Kumar puts on it makes the material exceptional. The audience is high calibre too: instead of heckling, someone in the front row raises their hand to make a point.
While some polemicists lapse into tirades and despair, Kumar manages to inject genuinely funny material into every subject and second of material. The crowd is always laughing, if slightly stunned at the hit rate. You certainly get superb value for money with this show: it’s crammed with at least twice the usual amount of verbiage. But unlike Ken Dodd, Kumar finishes very much on time: no-one’s rushing off to catch last trains. Being attentive pays dividends: best to arrive caffeinated before the show and top up in the interval.
Kumar really is one of those comedians that’s best experienced live, where he can freely range and rage, rather than in the bittier formats that prevail today. This is purposeful angry humour, well-thought-out, tried, tested, and impeccably delivered. Book a seat now for the show’s marathon UK tour.
Reviewed on 18 September 2026 and continues to tour
