Becky Umbers‘ debut hour is about embracing your own weirdness, or at least establishing at what point that weirdness can be revealed without causing any new friends or potential romantic partners to run screaming for the hills. Just when can you let that cat out of the bag?

The effervescent New Zealander’s most distinctive feature is evident right away. She has a unique gopher squeak of a voice that she mines for an endearing, self-deprecating introduction to her gentle, cheerily cheeky style. In a neat, self-contained opening that’s obviously been honed as a ‘tight ten’ in the comedy clubs of her adopted London, she’s established who she is as a performer and laid out the general themes of the show.

Umbers then expands on her themes with the help of some simple multimedia, implicitly equating New Zealand – and, by extension, herself, with the loveable kiwi bird, an odd little beast that continues to exist despite its own best efforts. From there she moves on to her current home, taking in ‘horsey girls’, trainspotters, and a pervy foot physio.

It’s very nicely structured, and delivered with infectious delight with her voice proving a great delivery vessel for her material. It’s a great fit for her offbeat, occasionally mock-baffled sense of whimsy, and a better one when she brings the glee of a swearing toddler to her slightly more adult material (even paedophile gags are rendered strangely palatable in its merciless tones).

Becky has gambled on getting the word out as early as possible in her run and it hasn’t quite paid off, with night one still being something of a preview show. She admits to a few callbacks that missed their setups and there is the occasional technical gremlin that are quickly resolve but upset the rhythm of a particular piece. Still, she valiantly papers over these cracks without the slightest dent to her demeanour, hopping merrily on to another appearance of the ‘Choo Choo 3000’, or a further riff on the hapless kiwi.

Such issues are hardly dealbreakers. It would take a stony heart not to warm to Becky Umbers instantly; she’s never in any danger of losing the crowd and the show is only going to improve as the kinks are ironed out. But even with those fixed in place, ‘Put That Cat Back in the Bag’ will likely retain its considerably charming, lo-fi inventiveness. It’s that, along with Umber’s slightly wide-eyed sense of the ridiculous that raises the show above a meat and potatoes debut hour.

‘Put That Cat Back in the Bag‘ is at Assembly Roxy – Snug Bar until Sun 24 Aug 2025 at 20:40