Genevieve Swallow is Sharing

Swallow’s entire routine is based on her flatmate and house sharing tales – like a less funny version of the Australian autobiographical novel He Died with a Falafel in His Hands by John Birmingham. If you read that you’ll experience everything good about this show and also all the tales of drunken revelry and criminal damage that Swallow’s years of house sharing seems to be missing.

Although the structure is solid and Swallow stays resolutely on topic throughout there is just not much going on here. Her jokes are often at the expense of others, mainly her ex-flat and housemates. What grates is that she does not seem to have liked the company of any of these people, which gives the show an undercurrent of superiority that appears undeserved. Swallow gives no proof as to why she should be better to live with than those she describes.

A little bit of audience participation signals the end is in sight and then Swallow launches into song. This surprising moment lifts the hour’s entertainment slightly and leaves you wondering whether you’ve assessed her all wrong, but you probably haven’t. With so many better things on over the festival this is worth a miss.