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The Scotsman

NICK WILTY has lost his voice. However, that is all he has lost since the last time I saw him. He is still a warm, funny man who looks like Freddie Starr's nicer but naughtier twin. He is also a great raconteur. This "little show" as he calls it, is deeply personal, tangibly emotional at times and a very different style for him.

This is one of those "marker" shows that some performers need to do. And you should try to see it if you possibly can, because I suspect Wilty might never do anything quite like this again.

In 1982, Wilty was in the Army and, more precisely, in the Falklands. But for failing his driving test, he would have been on the Galahad when it went down. Wilty, racked with survivor's guilt, bought himself out of the Army after that war and, pausing only to amass £440, went off round the world for eight years.

His tips for sleeping rough, his encounters with giant spiders and crocodiles, his observations on Tokyo small-talk and his time playing sexual Russian roulette in Singapore are all delivered in a warm, funny, friendly croak.

He weaves some terrific little stand-up routines into the narrative, for those who don't think scary/hilarious tales of the time he was held up by bandits brandishing three guns and a machete in Belize is enough. By the time he gets on to sniffer dogs in New Zealand, fun in Amsterdam and making his comedy debut in Canada, he is on a comedy roll.

And then at the end, he takes you back with him to the Falklands as he went to entertain the troops on the 25th anniversary of the war.

This is funny, sad, open, honest stuff. And it is powerful. I apologise if I haven't made this sound very funny. It is. And more.

****

Reviewed by: Kate Copstick

***

Nick Wilty: Incident Prone

There’s an astounding show to be had from Nick Wilty’s experiences as a Falklands war veteran, but he seems unsure quite how to unlock it.

Wilty is a gripping storyteller, but doesn’t trust his own instinct. After so many years on the circuit, he appears uncomfortable with the silence of rapt attention, so keeps reaching back to his box of silly gags to get reassuring laughs. As a consequence, he only hints at the emotions of being in battle, and of returning to the scene 25 years later.

Such a serious story can be told with wit, although no one can pretend it would be easy. But rather than working out quite how to do this, perhaps with the aid of an assured director, Wilty tends to flip back to his club set about his globetrotting exploits, rich with quick fire jokes. It’s funny, but less satisfying.

The key to the show is demonstrated not in the Falklands material, but in his recounting of the time he was travelling on a bus that got hijacked in Belize. In the first telling, it’s the set-up to a couple of quick punch lines. Second time around, he describes what actually happened in full, terrifying detail – and it packs quite a punch. Combining the two is the key to success.

Wilty doesn’t waste much time in telling us of his role in the Falklands, giving a honest insight into what it is actually like to personally enter a war. Then, back in the UK, he quickly got bored. His Army days, he figures, gave him a lust for adventure, and he started travelling the world, doing whatever was needed to pay for the next adventure: from sleeping rough in New York to working in a tough gay bar in New Zealand or fishing for sharks.

It’s definitely stand-up set, heavy on the gags with no excuse to squeeze a cheeky laugh squandered. He delivers them expertly, too, even though it still has the feel of a routine designed to appease a large, rowdy, comedy club crowd with short attention spans than an unfairly under-attended room of patient Fringe-goers.

After whisking through his travels, the Falklands are revisited, both metaphorically and physically, for the recent 25th anniversary commemorations. Although the actual event turned out to be quite messily ill-organised, it gave Wilty – and his story – closure.

I wish this had been a preview, rather than the last weekend of the Fringe, as it’s got all the elements of a sublime, astonishing show, but still in need of considerable attention. As it stands, it’s still a funny hour in the fabulous company of an always likeable comedian – and that’s still good value in anyone’s book.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett