Double Dutch: Two

Nicola Wheeler enjoys a show about identity, belonging and the strange business of trying to understand other people.

After immersing myself in Exeter Comedy Festival at the beginning of the month, I was ready for more laughs. So, when I spotted that Derek Mitchell was bringing Double Dutch: Two to Exeter Phoenix, I booked straight away. I have followed and enjoyed his character comedy on Instagram for some time and was intrigued to see how his sharp cultural observations would translate to the stage.

He didn’t disappoint. While there was less of the character-based comedy that has made his online material so recognisable, Double Dutch: Two offered something more personal. It was a thoughtful, generous show about identity, belonging and the strange business of trying to understand other people.

The show explores Mitchell’s experience of being an American in the Netherlands, learning the language, adapting to the culture, finding love. He finds his place somewhere between Dutch directness, British self-deprecation and American enthusiasm. His observational comedy is precise and playful. He moves easily between accents, mannerisms and national stereotypes, always with affection.

Some of the memorable moments were his early encounters with Dutch culture. He recalled meeting a Dutch girl at international school, describing her as being like “a stallion in a lightning storm”, simply because she was so direct. He mused on Dutch as “a cute, weird little European language”, joking that even Dutch people seem baffled by why anyone would choose to learn it.

There was also a very pleasing local moment when Mitchell appeared to get himself into trouble by confusing Devon with Cornwall. Once he learnt that one of the key differences was where the cream goes on a scone, he gently turned the joke back on the audience for making such a fuss about it. His amiable style won the room over, and he promised to go in search of a cream tea while he was here.

What makes the show work is that the humour, although rooted in something quite niche, never feels narrow. Mitchell uses Dutchness as a way into bigger, more relatable questions: how we fit in, what we inherit, what we lose, and how far reality can sit from expectation. The personal thread gives the show depth, touching on the loss of his father at a young age, moving between countries, building relationships and learning how to belong.

The show closed with a reflection on a room full of people from different countries laughing together, which felt especially resonant in the current moment. It gave the evening an uplifting and positive ending. Mitchell seemed genuinely delighted to be discovering a new place and meeting new people, and he stayed behind for a long time afterwards chatting warmly with audience members.

I had the pleasure of sitting next to a Dutch man, who told me afterwards that the show was full of truisms. His final verdict was, perhaps, the most Dutch review imaginable: “It was okay. It could have been better.”

I hope Mitchell found that cream tea, and that his dose of Devon encourages him to come back again. Double Dutch: Two was clever, warm and unexpectedly moving; a joyful reminder of how comedy can make us feel both seen and connected.