Ricky Hunt is tall, gay, working class, and lost in Walthamstow Village. He grew up in a surreal Essex menagerie with 30 pet cats, a red living room he called ‘Hell’, and a mum who thought MDF and a stencil could fix anything. Now he’s living in a fake London village, trapped between oat milk and opera... literally. His boyfriend directs it.

This debut work-in-progress stand-up hour dances between buffet omelettes in Ibiza, awkward opera intermissions, the ghosts of Clacton past, and the existential threat of phone notifications. A poetic panic on a journey from Pov' to less pov'.

If you’ve ever felt too posh for the chip shop but too poor for a tasting menu this one’s for you.