Lucy Pook is fierce, deadpan and philosophical. Touring her glass of red around the backrooms and cellars of unseen London, tutting at all the extra and/or missing apostrophes along the way. She'll have you believe she's a grammar pedant, but like most 'artists' really only ever has a superficial understanding of a subject in order to wax lyrical, and as such, it's really only 'your/you're' that she is able to appropriately identify. Pook's New Year's resolutions were to remember to bring underwear to the swimming pool and to have a quotidian use of the semicolon. So; pretty wild. With an almost zen-like balance of arrogance and crippling self doubt, she'll have you at the edge of your seat as to whether or not she, at that exact moment, feels like she deserves to both give and receive love. She'd adjust the mic stand if she would only put that bloody glass of wine down, but as it seems that she won't, you'll either get a triple chin, or nasal cavity viewpoint, and still be grateful to just be in the room with her. Pook is that rare gem of both anxious and avoidant, so feel free to love her, just not too much. Your in for a real treat!
'dry, delightful and always engaging; easily one of the circuits most promising new acts’ (Callum Mackenzie, hot young comic)
'So dry, she'll make you wet.' ( Roxie Shipton, comedy promotor)
'Show me on the doll.' (three therapists ago)
'She ain't 35!' (Gong show audience member)
