She arrives on stage, wild hair, signature glasses, full of stories, and she’s brough biscuits for the front row, the dribble zone as she refers to them.
We’re hooked in immediately and settle into her combination of observations, rants and takes on society with ease.
Jenny’s had quite a life, and this show is her opportunity to show it to us, the edited highlights also passing commentary on how the world has changed and how it feels to be an older performer.
Accompanied by a slide show, we learn about her childhood and the characters who surrounded her. A middle child, with a self-declared desperation to be famous, the stories are personal and warm, honest and alarmingly real.
She deals with her sexual awakening and the impact it had on those around her, her struggles with anorexia and her rise to fame. Each story gives us another look under the bonnet and an insight into who she is now.
Alongside this, she rails against the public, brings the audience in to allow us to see how ridiculous our world is and makes everyone in the room respond.
Jokes, Jokes, Jokes is the title of her recently published memoir, and this show is the accompaniment, so much more than a book reading in order to flog copies.
The second half deals with fame itself, the business she is part of and the inadequacies of how it all works. We find ourselves howling at stories of potty training for her new grandson, learning about how she dealt with her parents’ decline and the need to take snacks to important life events.
Every line is full of her spirit, and it feels both planned and impromptu at the same time.
The packed audience all relate, we’ve all been there and if not, we understand.
As she leaves the stage, we want her to do another two hours but doubt we could laugh any more.
There are new chapters of her life to come, and we can’t wait to hear about them.
