Review by Laurie Kemmett

Nobody likes a funeral. Even when the deceased isn’t someone you know well. This fact doesn’t change even when you don’t know the person at all – and when the person isn’t a person but a British supermarket of the 2000’s. Enter Paul Campbell and his eulogy for Somerfield. If like, the younger audience members, you don’t know what Somerfield is, don’t worry – you’ll soon find out, as Campbell will tell you. Over the course of an hour, you’ll get to know the products, the aesthetics, and best of all, the characters that made up your average Somerfield. You’ll also get to know Campbell, who mourns the loss of this supermarket so keenly that you have no choice but to feel its absence yourself. 

Upon entering the venue, audiences are presented with a form to fill out with memories of the supermarket (one is encouraged to fill it out even with no memories of it). The form might get the first laugh, with a tongue-in-cheek attitude towards the writer. Once sat down, a tinny dirge assaults the ears, Campbell enters in a black suit and tie, and the show begins. 

There are some truly good gags in this show, and it’s hard-pressed not to find yourself laughing out loud at points. While Campbell takes the audience through the history of Somerfield, he remarks at his disappointment when the British institution was briefly renamed Gateway. (“Gateway is the way to get into supermarkets!”) He also pokes fun at the concept of a comedy show – so much so that he has the audience set an alarm for forty minutes in, informing them that every comedy show has a sad bit at the forty minute mark, a tradition he must observe. 

Using the five stages of grief as a structural guide is a solid idea in theory, but it falls apart slightly in reality. None of the stages feel particularly thematically connected to what comes after them, leaving you wondering why they have been added in. They also only get introduced halfway through the show, meaning they feel rushed at points but drag at other moments. Campbell’s diction occasionally means that the best jokes are missed, and his haphazard and jolty manner of speaking is charming at first but becomes tiring as time goes on. 

Having said that, he is a solid performer. A slight technical mishap is handled with aplomb, and he engages the audience so that they cannot help but root for him. For fans of James Acaster or Victoria Wood, these observations on 2000s British culture will feel like a homecoming.

---