Pierre Novellie comes onstage at the Alma Tavern Theatre with no support act and minimal warning. Stand-ups aren’t known for their extravagant onstage fashion – why bother when you’re performing as yourself in the back of a pub – and in black jeans and hoodie, for a second Novellie could be mistaken for a put-upon theatre technician. This isn’t helped by him bringing a laptop, explaining that this is a necessary crutch at this stage of the show. It’s a risky move, but one he mostly gets away with; I wasn’t familiar with his stand-up, although I’d somehow absorbed from Twitter that he had released a book about being diagnosed as autistic, and he came recommended by a friend who works for his agency (I was not given free tickets or in any way bribed to write a good review. And Jack, you still owe me £39). He’s been around a while, winning awards and writing for various shows including The Mash Report, and co-hosting several podcasts, including one with Phil Wang.

Novellie also comes with that good old establishment endorsement (GOEE) of ‘Cambridge Footlights alumnus,’ a phrase which is destined to haunt any former member’s reviews, good or bad, till the day their favourite service station burns down at 1am on a Saturday morning with them in it. It’s almost, almost negative these days, as mainstream comedy has gradually, pathetically teetered towards a more diverse roster. But it still provides that little kick of recognition and assumption of quality that gives you a leg up at the Edinburgh Fringe. But Novellie quickly counters any assumptions we (I) may have about his background and his act, favouring observational fare through a neuro-divergent lens. This creates an odd-man out dynamic, but it is this case convincing; it is a much-abused white male comedian schtick and often comes across as insincere, even more so when you’ve been to Cambridge. He starts with a bit on his Europe-spanning name, moving onto an extended section about the state of English versus European cities. It’s not particularly revolutionary fare, but Novellie makes it his own with a sardonic, weary tone, making the most of every moment to ramp up the fury and building momentum as he goes. This is elevated by his delivery and turns of phrase; I especially liked ‘concrete fuck-nightmare,’ when describing an (English) town centre – in comparison to the ‘cobbled delight(s)’ of Europe – which managed to be both verbose and crude and could have come straight from the livid mouth of Mark Corrigan on Peep Show.

It’s always a test of a comedian’s skills to throw in some material about the place they’re in without a) making too much fun of it and annoying the audience b) talking about how wonderful it is to try and get them on side or c) making such generic jokes it’s obvious they’ve quickly Googled it backstage. We skirt the classic inbred West Country jokes in favour of Bristol being so fancy that if you were stabbed here, the knife on the back would have points for cheese – both vivid and inventive. He talks about going off fantasy novels (‘[they’re] rude to reality .. I don’t know about Poland’) and his diagnosis of autism. Mentions of the latter are scattered throughout, which is intriguing and the most compelling material. His highly successful 2024 Fringe show, ‘Must We?’ tackled it in more depth, but it feels like a missed opportunity that it’s quite brief here; we are treated to an extended and hilarious anecdote about the sensory torture of (accidentally) learning the saxophone however. There’s an obvious joke made about the autistic tendencies of his coursemates doing Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic studies at Cambridge, who are so keen they speak the languages they’re studying, but he just about sells it with his dry delivery. It would have been interesting to undercut it with more on what actually being autistic – and undiagnosed – was like for him in that kind of environment.

This was technically a warm-up show for Novellie’s tour, which seems to be circling the UK – in theory I could see it again in two months’ time when it’s at the Wardrobe Theatre. Hopefully the more diverse Old Market crowd will be keener, because while the older Clifton demographic laughed along, they lacked the enthusiasm that he deserved; the back three rows carried the energy for the whole room.

Overall, the show was enjoyable but a bit scattergun in its approach. The concept of an overarching, emotional narrative in stand-up has been overdone, but the show didn’t take advantage of the obvious anchor of his neurodivergence, and as such felt a bit thin and all over the place, then sudden in its ending. Novellie is experienced, skilled, and charismatic though, and I’m sure the show will brew nicely until it’s fully heated through.

Pierre Novellie is on tour until the end of November. His book, ‘Why Can’t I Just Enjoy Things?’ is available now.