Last night, I found myself at the Knockabout Studio, a venue that is certainly haunted. Between the peeling paint, flickering lights, and a Victorian banister leading underground, I half expect to bump into Shaggy and Scooby, searching for clues.

Before the show begins, Nick Robertson bounds about, greeting me and other audience members as we arrive. His warmth feels like that of a supportive friend, making us feel welcome, comfortable, and safe from any ghosts lurking in the rafters.

Nick is adorable and hilarious. He shares a small slice of his life with open arms and a cheeky grin. Nick’s performance is a masterclass in storytelling; he shares childhood tales through the lens of fond nostalgia, his obsession with Scooby-Doo, and an altercation with federal police resulting in detention.

Nick’s stories are jam-packed with jokes, but the real magic is found in how he tells them. His perspicacious insights are expressed with linguistic finesse and a rhythmic delivery that is nothing short of enthralling — very reminiscent of the great Daniel Kitson. His vast repertoire of linguistic sophistication is clearly on display, crafting a narrative that dances between timelines and themes, holding the audience in rapt attention and constant amusement.

The show closes on a heartfelt reflection on displacement and belonging, a humorous ode to Candy Crush, and an expression of genuine parental love for Nick’s mother. If you miss out on “Leave to Enter”, be sure to catch Nick Robertson’s next show. Given his trajectory, he is sure to be a household name soon.

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There’s something that happens when two redheaded bespectacled pale strangers are in the same room. An alchemical reaction that will change the course of history. Just kidding, but there is a look of “Hey, I get you, you get me.” I feel that when I enter Two/Fiftyseven and see Nick Robertson grooving to The Backstreet Boys. We are immediately in good hands (#notbias).  

I will admit, I get a little nervous with comedy shows. I fear they’ll be too overzealous or frantic, or push the comedy too hard, or not let enough life into their story. I don’t feel that with Nick. He has a bit of old-school comedy charm, throwing in some local jokes, knowing how to bring it back if they don’t quite land. He’s warm, comfortable, and has a quiet command we as an audience can trust.  

There is a projector screen behind Nick, where little passport stamps pop up that have been designed according to the beats of his story. These are really cool and a simple touch that doesn’t draw focus.  

Nick is a fantastic storyteller and he knows when to let the story flow between jokes. He lets the comedy shine while still conveying the emotional weight of the situation and what it meant to him. He has a great range of prickly self-deprecating comedy and genuine warmth, like when he talks about his brother or his Mum. The story itself is a simple yet rich one, and he paints it for us beautifully. As he tells of being turfed out of Scotland after just one day, he sprinkles in stories from his life, making the anxiety and weight of the Scotland story even greater.  

In the middle of the show, a phone goes off (that really twangy loud ringtone people have and somehow still forget to turn off when they go to a live show). Nick is so sweet, “It’s totally fine,” he says, then makes a joke to set all our nerves at ease. What a pro!

I have loved spending an hour with this wonderful storyteller and I hope he returns with more stories soon.  

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