How did “My Dad Wrote A Porno” become an all-conquering global phenomenon? Search me. My review of the Festival Hall version of the erotica-gone-bad podcast:
It is a long time since I have seen an audience in quite such an excited pre-show mood, and during the performance the atmosphere bordered on hysterical. Never mind that the trio aren’t, to a neutral’s eye, particularly quick on their feet; Morton and Cooper are TV industry “creatives” (their word) and Levine is a broadcaster who can do a decent Jennifer Saunders deadpan. Yet perhaps their not being polished performers is what appeals to fans. In one mildly amusing sequence a couple of female volunteers acted out one of Rocky’s typically convoluted clinches to the sound of Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On. Later, Levine used a chart or two to test the audience’s knowledge of female anatomy. The whole evening hovered around the level of a tipsy dinner party in NW3 or a post-pub quiz on Channel 5. For the first time in my life, I found myself thinking that maybe there is something to be said for Alan Carr.
Clive Davis 