Not Part Of Festival: Matt Smith, Peterloo

A busy main road, with trams passing every couple of minutes, a building site on one side, and a particularly vile piece of 60s office design on the other, might not be the most promising venue for an outdoor solo show. But this is what remains of St Peter’s Field, and it is still the site of debate between Mancunians and the state. The audience gathers by the war memorial, a popular monument which the Council is attempting to shift out of view to make for a wider tram stop. This has provoked a furious reaction, with everyone from Private Eye to Carol Batton voicing their opposition. The proposed move is the main subject of pre-show chat, with a small knot of locals united in their condemnation of the Council’s plans.

Matt Smith bounds towards us, with a welcoming cheer of ‘Comrades!’ He is an engaging host, with a bouncy enthusiasm, as he leads us from the memorial to the Peace Gardens – ‘Its too noisy here, and the Council wouldn’t give permission anyway’. Matt has the army surplus jacket and Converse trainers which immediately categorise him in the ‘lefty-student’ bracket of national stereotypes, and displays the sort of single-minded passion that precludes any eye contact with his audience.

Matt’s show takes the Peterloo Massacre as a starting point for a discussion on political engagement and modern policing. As a result, his facts are somewhat fast and loose, but it’s a nice change from the dry recital of facts and pedantry which can bog down discussions of this epochal moment. Mr Smith is clearly a Lee and Herring fan, and is strongly influenced by the 80s alternative comedy scene, although his babyface suggests he may not have been born at the high point of the movement.



The show begins strongly, as our host explains the economy and the background to Peterloo through a series of cartoons drawn on cue cards, like Rik Mayall recreating Subterranean Homesick Blues. His has the audience onside, and we are willing to forgive any minor stumbles. Matt’s delivery is pretty good, and the jokes are warmly received.

Halfway through the show, we run into problems. It becomes apparent that Matt is now going to do an impression of a Tory MP. Even more concerning, he is conducting a conversation with a sock puppet Lib Dem, about Coalition politics. I have to confess, a little piece of me died at this point; I could barely watch. It’s to Matt’s credit, though, that the show does recover from this potentially fatal blow. An impassioned defence of UK Uncut, and call for greater democratic engagement, is followed by a Stewart Lee-esque riff about pissing on posters of David Cameron, and he even manages to close on a poem without completely ruining everything.

The outdoor setting aids the show, creating an intimate atmosphere. Curious passers-by stop to listen to sections of the performance, and the sound of trams doesn’t manage to drown out the performer. The events of Peterloo were probably extremely familiar to the majority of the audience, and the show may have sold itself short on the festival website, sounding like a dry historical piece. It makes a change to hear someone relating the events of 1819 to the modern day, even if his politics occasionally verge on Rik from Young Ones territory.

Overall, this was an engaging hour, and a welcome addition to Not Part Of. Comedy hasn’t featured too highly in this year’s programme, and it’s always good to see this sort of lively, engaged performance, especially when the Festival pavilion is just around the corner and the sun is out. Next stop for me at the Festival is the literary quiz at Barcelona Bar on Wednesday. More festival reviews over the next two weeks.

Thanks to Alex Herod of For Books' Sake for the photo.