Tehran banter that falls short

Shappi Khorsandi, Soho Theatre

Typical. You wait years for an Anglo-Iranian stand-up comedian and then two come along simultaneously. Omid Djalili is currently trying to crack America in Whoopi Goldberg's eponymous sitcom. Shappi Khorsandi also has bags of talent, but on the strength of her current show her breakthrough is still a few years away.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this likable performer that a serious bit of focus would not resolve. Some wickedly satirical material lurks beneath the mundane observations about men, women, over-protective parents and the dating game. As she nervously jokes, her press cuttings say she has put Iran on the map: which now means that George Bush can find it.

Her dilemma is whether to pursue the Djalili route and base a show around subverting cultural stereotypes, playing with her Tehran-via-Ealing origins, or to concentrate on more mainstream observational humour. As a result she falls between both stools, never quite pushing far enough in either direction.

A splash of bespoke politics on the recent protests is dissipated by off-the-peg sparky banter that never quite ignites. There is little point asking the front row their names if you can't generate a comic riff out of it. Khorsandi exudes bonhomie, but lacks structure, a problem highlighted by the end. No climax, merely an apathetic announcement that there is no climax.

Full marks, though, to the Soho Theatre, for enthusiastically booking extended-length comedy shows. The venue is rapidly becoming the first port of call outside Edinburgh for anyone interested in comedians stretching themselves beyond a 20-minute club set. The problem with Khorsandi is that at the moment she only has enough material for a 20-minute set.