Ed Entertains
Posted on 10th January 2026
I’m still not sure whether I’ve just attended a comedy night headlined by Ed Byrne, or an Ed Byrne show with not one, but two, support acts. Either way, it attracted a full house which, in the absence of a conventional MC, was briefly welcomed by the Corn Hall’s very own Lee Johnson. Far from being short-changed, however, both of the supporting performers contributed unusually long sets before Byrne took to the stage.
First up was Justin Panks, who had come all the way from Norwich to find out whether or not Diss was posh. The jury’s still out after the interrogation, but all credit to him for taking it on the chin when his references to Sports Direct and drugs variously failed to land. His routine remained resolutely broad and profane throughout, but buried underneath the jokes about male grooming and evil stepsons was an insightful commentary on male insecurity that we don’t get to hear about nearly enough.
Kate Lucas, armed with her cheat stick, presented a number of whimsical songs that — as is the way with the form — tended to elicit appreciative chuckles rather than belly laughs. Nonetheless, for every silly ditty about Waitrose snobbery or bank charges, there was more pointed material on age and appearance shaming. Whether she was sweetly beguiling or bitter and twisted depended largely on which part of her act you picked up on, and how much of her schtick you took at face value.
After the break, we got — in Kate Lucas’s words, not mine — the act we’d all come to see. With no disrespect intended to his supporting colleagues, Ed Byrne immediately took the evening up a notch. A whirling dervish from the outset, he bounded across the stage, his foppish hair seemingly forever in the way, as he delivered a scattergun demolition of cohabitation, marriage and parenthood. The silliness, for an Irishman, of a canyon being described as grand was explored, as were the priapic challenges of middle age. Between those two extremes, his disdain for fellow moon-faced comedians, Strictly Come Dancing and sport in general was ticked off in a set that flew by with inconsequential brio and an assurance that only comes from a comic at the top of his game.