The Funny Thing About Arenas with Jack Whitehall

Comedy is a funny thing. It's something that we can all share in, and something that we all need to brighten up our day to day lives. Of course what one person finds hilarious may well be utterly offensive to another, but our reaction, whether positive or negative, unites us in reaction alone.

In recent years, the comedian has become the height of celebrity. Where once we looked upon musicians and film stars, in the Twitter-verse, we now see the funny men of this world at the height of stardom, and where once they had been relegated to dingy pubs and comedy clubs, a new wave of arena-filling stars has emerged.

This week, with a small hint of trepidation, I headed to Newcastle's Metro Radio Arena to see young comedian Jack Whitehall in action. The hesitation was not for the comedian himself; I've come to garner a large amount of respect for Mr. Whitehall; at twenty five he has already managed to make a name for himself as one of British TV's smartest comedians - Bad Education is by far my favourite sitcom in many years, and I feel a strange kinship that is only shared between fellow public schoolboys. No, my concern lay in the fact that this was an arena gig.

Now, I've always held strong the image of the aforementioned dingy comedy club. Maybe it's because all of my previous experiences of live comedy have been in such venues, but I feel there is a certain intimacy in live events. Indeed even when seeing live music, I like to be so close to the stage that I can almost touch the performers (I reference my trip to see Counting Crows last year when I was literally within reach of Charlie Immergluck for much of the show. I spent most of the evening quivering like a schoolgirl). There's just something magical about being up close and personal with whoever is on stage.

So the concept of arena comedy rather bemused me; could the intimacy of a darkened room translate into the cavernous halls of an arena? 

Well, for the most part, yes, I admit, it can.

Performing in the round, Whitehall managed to be engaging throughout, utilising the space to its fullest, thus ensuring the entire audience could appreciate the performance no matter where they were sitting in the vastness of the arena space. A number of large screens positioned above the circular stage ensured that those at the back could still see the amusing gurnings of the comedian, and meant that even those in the executive boxes (why on earth would you sit in a box for any live show? Sure, sports I can understand, but a performance? With the sound piped in, you really may as well be watching on television) had a good view.

The show itself was a cracker, keeping us in fits of laughter throughout, Whitehall's manic neuroses on the subjects of sex, the British psyche and, of course, The Lion King, are thought-provoking and hilarious. At times, longer anecdotes seemed a little over-rehearsed, but for the most part, this was a perfect night out.

So I admit I was wrong; perhaps with the right man and the right material, a comedian can comfortably make his home in the spacious abodes of arenas up and down the country. But when the stadiums of the world replace Springsteen and Bon Jovi with the likes of Michael McIntyre and Lee ruddy Evans, I might raise an eyebrow or two...