Nadie Sabe Nada | T13x12 | Cómicos básicos de casino

November 22, 2025·54 min·5 clips

Andreu Buenafuente wakes up with 'body of function' nervousness before a show, while his wife springs out of bed at 5 AM for a shoot.

The show starts in restless stage mode. An actor wakes up with what he calls a performance body, already twitchy because the day ends under lights. Domestic fuss, ticket talk, and a lingering Tenorio run all get tossed into the warm-up. The first proper spark is gleefully dumb: a couples game about recognizing bodily sounds, which treats intimacy like a very strange entrance exam. Nobody handles it with dignity. Good. They flee the topic almost at once, and the escape is funnier than the premise. Then Victor arrives from Toledo with chaos in his pocket. His question about Marty McFly, his mother, and a child before the disappearance drops into the studio like a trapdoor. The hosts do not bother with proper science. They treat the whole thing as a demolition request and enjoy rejecting it as fast as possible. The program’s machinery keeps peeking through, and that becomes part of the fun. A phone number for listener questions, a producer cue, and the memory of pre-recorded shows all turn into toys. The audience becomes evidence. Andreu waits for a delayed callback to land, then gets exactly the wrong kind of enthusiasm from the room. That failure is not hidden. It gets worked over, with numbers, timing, and rhythm corrected while the bit limps forward on purpose. The close goes small-casino: Andy, booked late at the big casino in Barcelona, gets in one more old-school gag that works better in the room than on radio. That mismatch is the charm. Half listener-question machine, half live-room cleanup, happiest when the punchline is already falling apart.

As heard by us

A shaggy Nadie Sabe Nada built from stage nerves, bad questions, pirate pants, and comic failure made useful.

Nadie Sabe Nada turns stage nerves into a loose chain reaction: the strange body you carry on performance days, the diplomatic handling of a wife's "energies," couples playing Guess My Fart, Marty McFly logic, audience timing that refuses to land on cue, and the eternal menace…

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