Review: Ian Smith – Foot Spa Half Empty

Ian Smith, son of Goole, and very funny man, got his 2026 tour off to a hilarious start in a Monkey Barrel basement last weekend. His show, Foot Spa Half Empty, picked up an Edinburgh Comedy Award nomination during its run last year, and it’s easy to see why.

Best known for sublimating a perpetually stressed existence into cracking comedy routines, he continues to be ‘blessed’ with plenty to be stressed about. Where his last show, ‘Crushing’ found him on a stress-busting holiday to crush tanks with his hairdresser, now Ian is negotiating the distinctly first-world-problem of becoming middle-class.

Should he be worried, for example, that he is in the market for a foot spa? Why is he drinking flowers?

However, at the base of the show is Smith’s very real and stressful journey through infertility whilst trying to conceive with his partner. Cue a world of humiliating possibilities, all spun into excruciatingly funny routines by a comedian reaching the top of his game. Compounding this is Ian’s preternatural ability to be confounded by the most minor of daily inconveniences, be it badly arranged vending machines or semantic problems with the phrase ‘Wrong Time, Wrong Place’.

Not one to rest upon the laurels of growing fame — he’s a frequent flyer on Have I Got News For You — Smith is also keen to point out Google’s habit of associating his name with white supremacy. One has the impression that whatever successes come his way, Ian Smith will always find something sour to sweat about — thank goodness!

Yet, Foot Spa Half Empty isn’t just an hour of Ian Smith listing off things, big or small, that stress him out, or rather it is, but all woven into in a naturally flowing, highly personable rant which belies the cleverness of the many smart call-backs and deftly delivered anecdotes.

His schtick about a seagull with a penchant for steak knives terrorising a beer garden is just one of the gems he delivers with superb timing, accompanied by wonderfully weaponised cries of angst.

At one point, he quips that there’s really only one ‘joke’ in the show, but that’s not remotely true. Whether he’s back in school fondling fruit with a blindfold on, or discussing unlikely headlines in his local newspaper, Ian Smith knows where the funny is and delivers it again and again. This is a fine hour from a fine comedian, and if it lacks a little of the escalating brilliance and narrative punch of Crushing, it still marks him out as one of the best stand-ups around.