Ian Bagg is somewhat of a maverick when it comes to stand-up, shunning structure and routine entirely in favour of audience interaction. His show revolves around sharp ripostes based on punters' behaviour, race or sexuality. For that reason, Bagg's approach, though brave, is very much an acquired taste.
Bagg doesn't bully anyone, as such - his quips are all in good fun, after all. He is relentless, however, mischieviously chasing patrons' embarrassment. Essentially, anything that can be exploited, will be exploited. For Bagg, comedy seems to be a kind of sport. Needless to say, it pays to be alert.
On the one hand, the fact that Bagg is able to sustain a fairly amusing hour based solely on impromptu conversation is commendable. On the other, the approach feels complacent and, as you might expect, overstays its welcome. One has to wonder what Bagg would do for an hour with the kind of attendance you could count on two hands.
Bagg's show is a risky venture that throws caution to the wind, often saved by an abundance of self-assured wit on the part of the comic. It's difficult to recommend the show wholeheartedly as, quite obviously, it changes from night to night. In fact, if anything, one predicts that at least one evening in Bagg's run will resemble a complete and utter trainwreck of a gig. It may happen, it may not, but that's the nature of what Bagg does: each night, he rolls the dice. It's up to you to decide if you'd like to buy a ticket and do the same.