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Can you talk about being sexually abused by your father in a comedy show? It's a conundrum that Alan Davies tackles on his first tour in a decade. When he mentions his late father coming into his bedroom for a "special cuddle" an awkward silence descends. Davies jokes that this is precisely why he has never spoken about it before onstage. We all relax, he moves on and the laughs resume. Think Ahead is not all about the abuse that has haunted the adenoidal stand-up. In fact his account of being a molested, also detailed in his 2020 book Just Ignore Him, barely takes up a quarter of his performance. But it casts a long shadow. One can clearly see Davies' demeanour change during the account. His breathing alters as if he is experiencing PTSD and reliving it. During another memorable section he recalls how in a previous show he had a playful routine about his dad having pants so big a team was required to fold them. What he was really thinking about at the time, it transpires, were the pants his father wore when he entered his room at night. It's a truly revealing glimpse behind the onstage cheeky grins. Elsewhere, the 59-year-old pings easily from punchline to punchline, often about the indignity of late middle age. A time when the only letters one receives are from the NHS asking for stool samples. His trademark locks are still thick but now mostly white. He had a reality check recently after seeing Back to The Future with his son. He identified with the skateboarding Marty McFly, his son thought he resembled shock-haired boffin Doc Brown. Much of the subject matter is the stuff of many male comics in his demographic. Prostate tests, statins, parenting, the ubiquity of porn, the inability to read the instructions on Viagra blister packs, road rage – he does a very nimble minimalist act out of an E-Scooter rider. At times he's less Jonathan Creek, more Alan Cranky. But if the gripes are familiar The QI veteran is skilful enough to bring a freshness to them. It's the little details that make Davies so captivating, whether fishing for giggles or revisiting the trauma of molestation. When he refers to his father persuading him to remove his pyjamas he adds that his night-time clothes were made by his mother, who had died when he was six. This is probably not a show for younger comedy fans. It is unlikely anyone born in this millennium would get much out of his pill-popping health angst. But for those in the Davies ballpark this bold, honest set is a striking return to the stage. Touring. Tickets and information here
