On Friday last Dublin’s hardest working comedian Eric Lalor played the Sugar Club, Dublin to a cosily packed audience that could only have woke up the following morning blaming him alone as to why their bellies still ached. Lalor has a certain nobility off stage and it is almost Stanley Ipkiss -esque -ish in how the maestro manages to morph from gentleman to a quasi organised disorderly comic routine, performed by a gentleman-like dosser. On stage the funny fellow has a sort of draw of the crowd that pulls one en mass in only for the crowd to fall back in tears of hysterical happiness. Take for example the dyslexic who confused the IMF with MFI and wondered why a furniture store was taking over Ireland. And whilst part way through the punchline, a lone [wo]man, the tail end of a fancy dress party walked in the front door of … There’s more →