12 Beans of Christmas - Adam Riches

Adam Riches is a very silly man.

We could almost leave it there, such is the chaotic, unpredictable nature of a show that revels in its lack of substance, relying instead on the considerable wit and charm of its star performer. You have to wonder whether, perhaps waking up in the middle of the night, he had the sudden epiphany that he could make a comedy career out of impersonating Sean Bean. Most of us would presumably come to our senses in the morning, but Adam Riches has instead taken his parody of Yorkshire's finest to ever greater heights of absurdity.

Riches is probably best known for his appearances on on 8 Out of 10 Cats,  his inestimable caricature put to no use to anyone in dictionary corner. My first exposure to his talents, however, was a midnight session of Dungeons 'n' Bastards at the End of the Road festival, a show I've since learned he's been touring for some time. With no preconceived notions of what to expect, it was the definitive shock to the senses, as ever more ludicrous games were played out. As team Sean and team Bean became locked in combat, a fine old time was had by anyone willing to set their dignity aside. It was therefore, with a genuine degree of buttock clenching (his words, not mine) trepidation that I took a seat for his loosely adapted Christmas version.

I noticed last time - and here's my top tip if attending - that he tends to avoid the soft targets of the front row patsies (again, his words, not mine) so that's where I sat. Sure enough, he did a deep dive into the crowd, winkling out a gaze averter for his unique brand of participatory fun. If picked on - quite the wrong word for what is really an inclusive celebration of silliness - there was little to fear. Riches had an expert knack of staying on the right side of a line that was all about gentle mickey taking and nothing to do with genuine humiliation.

My only concern was whether, without the shock of the new, I'd find what was essentially one joke stretched over an hour, funny the second time around. I needn’t have worried. Riches has an uncanny ability to invent preposterous new challenges, which combined with an unrivalled skill at improvising around the bare bones of a stupid, pointless game, meant this show was as fresh as could be imagined. What seemed clear from the outset was how much fun he was having, and how effortlessly that good humour infected everything that went on.

So what did go on? There was mince pie hurling, singing along to Steeleye Span, a grape firing contest, a jolly version of the 12 Days of Christmas, quite the worst demonstration of multiplication (we were assured) witnessed all tour, but also the most skilled round of spot the bastard (we were assured) witnessed all tour. Who knows if Riches says it to every crowd, but he did seem impressed by the Norwich audience's willingness to join in the spirit of ridiculousness, and Stage 2 felt like the perfect venue to enjoy a comedian in complete command of the fun.

The closest comparison that comes to mind - and it's frankly not that close - is the way Nina Conti improvises a routine around the hand signals of her human puppets. In theory, there is very little substance, yet in practice something quietly magical happens between comic and stooge. In the end, I suspect I wasn’t the only one just a little bit disappointed at not being picked to do battle for Team Sean.