Note: This review is from the 2018 Fringe

Boy, can Jayde Adams belt. The Bristolian stand-up has a voice that will make your fillings rattle, a thing of glory. One-time Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Newcomer Winner, for her third outing she’s turned full diva, offering an hour of show-tune inspired self-penned barnstormers, interspersed with warm, comic banter. It’s a razzle-dazzle Las Vegas lounge-bar hour of laughs.

Ivory-tickler Richard Thomas (Jerry Springer: the Musical) co-wrote the songs, which play to Adams’ considerable vocal strengths and skewer musical conventions to rib-tickling effect. She starts in epic fashion: wheeled on in a garlanded throne, she insists the audience proffer a welcome that befits a diva such as herself. From that moment, she has them eating out of her hands: the room fair shakes with laughter as she works her way through songs about the Bristolian earthquake, crying on stage and the perks of being fat.

She’s assisted by a figure dressed entirely in black, including features-covering balaclava: “more than just a man in a gimp costume”. Affectionately referring to him as “Pudding” (offstage boyfriend Rich Wilson) he’s exploited for terrific physical comedy effect throughout, amusingly resigned to her demands.

The show does have its longueurs – a tune in which she apologies to her daddy for what she did when she was younger fails to take off, and Whatever Happened to Baby Jayde is a one-joke parody. Nevertheless, the audience stays with her.

Similarly, her inter-song chats vary in comedic effect – a diatribe about Beyoncé is righteously hilarious, but sometimes her meanderings meander too much, and a certain level of comic momentum is lost. ‘Tis no matter, though: her voice is dizzying, her rapport with the audience clear, her comical chops considerable. She absolutely bangs.