The show starts with Robin Ince repeatedly punching a melon with Venon Kay's face on it, repeatedly shouting "fuck Vernon Kay" with every visceral blow - juice spraying all over the front row.
That was perhaps the most coherent and complete part of his show - so frenetic and chaotic is Ince's thought process that stories and memories are picked up and dropped like grains of sand in a sea wave.
After about 10 minutes of deviation, Ince finally comes back to explain the opening bit - it was a recreation of his first Edinburgh Fringe show.
Ince, perhaps unnecessarily, told the audience that he had just a few years prior been diagnosed with ADHD. I don't know if there are scales to ADHD, but Ince is what I'd call an overachiever, his mind working overtime but never letting him reach a conclusion. He did at least warn us (eventually) that this would be the case — with one previous audience member actually accosting him with a list of unfinished anecdotes, which reached double digits.
But despite, or perhaps as a result of, his inability to stay on point, Robin Ince presented a hell of a show, hilarious throughout and infinitely entertaining. The stories from his 50+ years on earth, and 30+ in comedy, mean that he is an endless pool of interesting insight. Above all else, his show is a love letter to comedy, and the many great comedians that have come and gone throughout the years, and a reminder of how wonderful comedy can be for human connection.
The show I watched was an exceptional hour of feel-good enjoyment. I can't at all promise you'll see the same content as me, nor can I promise you'll get satisfying conclusions to any of the stories Robin starts, but I can promise you, you'll leave the venue aching from laughter and considering whether you should book tickets for the next night – after all, it could be a completely different show!