‘I do trauma now, and it’s ok to laugh at trauma.’ So declares James Barr near the top of his set, and it’s a fair warning. What follows is a rollercoaster ride, considerably reworked since its Edinburgh debut, that manages to be both confronting and funny. There’s a sense that this is a process and period that Barr needs to work through: if it’s any comfort though, it also seems like it’s helping him define the kind of performer he might want to be. The explanations are honest and deft, the through-line is clear, the safety and goodwill in the room is palpable: in other words, we’ve got a burgeoning storyteller on our hands here.

The icing on the cake are the one-liners; there’s a Lady Di joke, an unforgettable reference to his Adelaidean extra-curriculars and a description of the UK’s Piers Morgan for the benefit of the Australian audience (‘he’s the type of bloke you find shazaming “I’ve Got A Feeling” at a wedding’) that’s so spot on, it needs to be added to Morgan’s Wiki. This kind of comedy isn’t for everyone and that’s fair enough. But we’ve been making jokes about trauma ever since there’s been trauma. It’s clear that Barr is learning and honing his craft with patience and wisdom while also trying to raise awareness and confront stereotypes about violence within Queer relationships. Fair play to him. 

James Barr: Sorry I Hurt Your Son (Said My Ex To My Mum), Gluttony, run ended.