Review: Celia Pacquola

CELIA PACQUOLA: LET ME KNOW HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT. Pic: Comp
CELIA PACQUOLA: LET ME KNOW HOW IT ALL WORKS OUT. Pic: Comp
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AUSTRALIAN comic Celia Pacquola is a smart cookie, with test scores to prove it. But she’s no fan of uncertainty, so when she needs a quick pick-me-up she visits a psychic. Or a ‘reverse historian,’ as she’s dubbed them.

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GILDED BALLOON, TEVIOT

Now, she knows this is crazy behaviour. Wave a dream catcher and she’ll blast you with derision. And do not get her started on people who think bolstering self-esteem is as easy as decoupage. Unless you want a giggle.

But gee whiz, magic is just so tempting: half an hour with a psychic is cheaper – and far easier – than therapy. Plus, she’s always sure to hear something nice about herself.

Except when she doesn’t. Tony, the hippie palm reader, drops a bombshell, and this prediction gets under her skin.

Next thing she knows she’s mainlining episodes of Hoarders and wondering how long it’ll take the pile of belongings occupying the other half of her double bed – the half that once contained her boyfriend – to mushroom into a life-threatening tower of detritus.

Speaking of mattresses, she has a repertoire of bed impressions the likes of which no one’s ever seen before.

There is a deliciously dark joke involving candy canes and Christmas that’s not for the fainthearted or the clinically depressed. And a riff about rings that will make you snort beer out of your nose.

Along the way she finds time to argue – compellingly – that Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On is the best song ever written about consensual sex. And possibly the only.

Confident and engaging, Pacquola has terrific stage presence, great moves, and great material. Spread the word: a set this good deserves to be seen.

Until Monday