Gut Reactions (post-gig memories and other trips)

Tuesday, 11 August 2026

Edinburgh Fringe: Tuesday 11th August, 2026

These were the first shows I booked for this year's Fringe. Elf Lyon's and Lara Ricote's shows were must-sees. The other two were calculated bankers.

Bob and I headed through at lunchtime, parking at Ingliston Park & Ride (eventually finding a parking bay at the furthest point from the tram station), then catching the tram to West End and walking over to the Underbelly at Cowgate. We bought drinks and sat in the bar until our first show was queuing.

15.10 (1hr) Adam Riches: The Critic's Way.

Cow Cafe at Underbelly, Cowgate. Ticket Price £15 (2 for 1)

Blurb:

Wanna be a comedy reviewer? Think you have what it takes to sit in a dark room watching something on your own without falling asleep? Then come join Caliban Munroe, 'the single most influential critic of our times' (The Caliban Munroe Podcast), and best-selling author of industry bible, The Critic's Way, as he hosts his award-winning once-in-an-afternoon seminar on how to live your dream and crush everyone else's. NB: there will be no press tickets available for this show.

As we enter the Cow Cafe, I'm not exactly sure what to expect. The venue is a cafe, with small round tables and low stools. The bar is closed, and a folded copy of the Scotsman sits wedged upright against the beer taps. A stage has been erected against the long wall, and upon it sits a coffee table with an artist's illustration pad, a massive pencil, and a book. Outside is the main thoroughfare to and from the other performance spaces, so curtains are used to close off the space once we're all in. Bob and I sit at the back of the room in front of the long high table with the bulk of the audience between us and the stage. I feel safe, because the latecomers have rearranged the seats in front of us so they can sit together.

However, as if to prove me wrong, Caliban is not a critic who remains on the stage. The East Coast Scotsman (think Alan Cumming with the gusto of Dominik Diamond) needs to get in amongst his attendees, engage with them, get them pumped up for his seminar on how to 'tique'. We chant back his catchphrases, make noises at his request and literally shake off our stress. One couple are asked to 'tique' each other. She gets a gold star on the forehead so he knows not to pick on her again. Another punter becomes a judge, Voice-style, sitting at the front facing Caliban, with instructions to turn around once he loses interest (the gag being once he turns around - and he does, to watch Caliban in the audience - he can't turn back and has to face the back wall for the rest of the show).

As all this is going on, Caliban drip-feeds us his backstory of being replaced at The Scotsman, a narrative which drives the show to its conclusion.

I loved the exhilaration of this show. The script and performance were laugh-out-loud funny. A brilliant start to our day. I can see Adam bringing this character to Dictionary Corner on Cats Does Countdown.

17:40 (1hr) Lara Ricote: INKLING.

Monkey Barrel 3. Ticket Price: £15 (2 for 1)

Blurb:

You know when stuff happens to you, and you react in a certain way (read: cry), so then you lean in? To know thyself? A man in a museum was mean to me (classic), and I’ve gotten a lot out of it (hell yeah). My stupidest and smartest show yet (alright!). INKLING is a show about How to Salute to the Mystery of Being Alive (ok?). Might that be of intrigue...? To you? Big kisses to you and yours. Love, Lara. PS I am trying my best. Edinburgh Best Newcomer winner 2022. As seen on TV.

The usher police insist we fill every seat, encouraging us to move to the end of the row, so, not willing to sit in the front row, I once again end up against the wall. I can't see the pictures on the stage hanging against the wall.

There are three microphones, the middle one notably higher, with stools acting as a platform to reach it.

Lara starts on these stools, shrieking in tongues with a scarf around her head. Blackout. She moves to another microphone and introduces the show, speaking quickly, almost unintelligibly, telling us about her deafness, how she hears about 65%. Blackout. She gabbers on about the philosophical aspects of life, using the framed mottos as examples of universal truths. Thankfully, she turns the frames so those of us at the sides can see them. Blackout. She talks about how she came out of a long-term relationship last year. Blackout. She plays out an encounter with a man in a museum, a Londoner she can barely understand. And so on, and so on.

Sounds a bit arty. It is, but it's also hilarious. Lara uses her clown skills to prick any pomposity in proceedings. The stage floor is soaking by the end of the show, as every mouthful of water she gulps never gets swallowed as she continues to talk at a million miles an hour, earnestly pleading with us to understand. Tears are represented by pouring water down her cheeks.

I understood about 65% of what she said, and that was the point. If you have no Inkling about what the show is about from this review, that's on me, but that too is the point. You need to work it out for yourself, and go see it. But please, try to get a seat where you face the stage.

The clean-up begins

19:30 (1hr) Ahir Shah: Golden.

Pleasance One. Ticket Price: £20 (2 for 1)

Blurb:

Ahir Shah discusses love, money, family, responsibility, fear, forever and frogs. His last show, Ends, won the Edinburgh Comedy Award, toured to international acclaim and is streaming on Netflix. As seen on Live at the Apollo, Mock the Week, QI, that sort of thing. 'The most important stand-up of the year, if not decade’ (Stephen Armstrong). ***** (Guardian, Independent, Telegraph, Standard, Chortle.co.uk).

This show is a stand-up performance about becoming an adult, where Ahir sells every joke, every nuance, every thought in a well-practised manner, teasing out the details of how he became an adult, with all the stress and responsibility that comes with it. The joke rate is not high, and he almost oversells them. The underlying message, though, is powerful. The ending is delivered like a theatrical monologue.

This show was something different. It felt like an Edinburgh show. I learned many things about Ahir's life that defied my expectations, to the show's benefit. It was deep, meaningful and started conversations post-gig about when life changes from being a child to becoming an adult and how we respond to that through our daily life.

Comedy for thinking grown-ups.

21.30 (1hr) Elf Lyons is The Woman on the Edge

Pleasance Beyond. Ticket Price: £18 (2 for 1)

Blurb:

'I'm sorry, I've said too much...' Sky Arts Award-winning comedian Elf Lyons is The Woman on the Edge. A completely normal, autobiographical (and in no way complex) – observational stand-up show about love. A perfect show to take yourself to. Inspired by Vertigo, Apollo 13, the opera Pagliacci. Directed by Ingmar Bergman. One of The Telegraph's 50 Funniest Comedians of the 21st Century. 'Praise her genius – and go' ***** (Telegraph). 'Expert clowning' **** (Sunday Times). **** (Guardian).

At the end of Elf's last tour show, Horses, she previewed ideas for a very early work-in-progress about her breakup, her fiancee dumping her by WhatsApp weeks before their wedding. The Woman on the Edge is the show born from those ideas. She dropped all the stuff about her agent and getting on Taskmaster in favour of mining her soul.

On social media, Elf takes great pains to remind reviewers that this is NOT a break-up show. Who am I to disagree? I mean, it is, but it's a whole lot more.

Elf comes on stage in a blue dress with massive, frilly shoulder straps, walking about off-balance in high heels (only she's barefoot). She's smoking an imaginary cigarette, producing real smoke from her chest. As this overwrought 40s starlet character, she subverts the narrative, talks exposition on her banana (only it was the wrong banana), lip-syncs to pre-recorded sound bites from Apollo 13 and from the crowd member she plucked from the front row to narrate her scripted experiences. She makes allusions to Pagliacci, the old joke being that a man goes to the doctor feeling depressed. The doctor recommends he cheer himself up by going to see Pagliacci, the funniest clown in the world, who's playing in town that night. The man says, "I can't. I am Pagliacci."

Sidebar: Glenn Moore had his own take on this. Pagliacci feels even worse because, if tickets are still available on the day, he hasn't sold out.

Over the course of the hour, we come to understand the turmoil Elf was in, still performing her tour show while her personal life imploded. She was oblivious to how much her support network of family and friends guided her back to safety.

The show feels raw. When she's acting out the school dance, acquiescing to each partner who abandons her, I want to step in and look into her sparkly eyes to tell her, 'I see you, I hear you, I love you, and I'm here for you'. Obviously, other than in that moment, that wouldn't be true, but that was the feeling it brought out in me (that's a whole school dance can of worms inside my head, waiting to be carried to my grave).

Elf's show is an experience. It's funny, it's silly, it's technically amazing, and it's sad. An artist laid bare beneath the guise of a Fringe show. I hope she finds happiness. If it's any consolation, she says she's really good at anal.

And that was our day. I spotted Angelone Vittorio walking along the Cowgate. Rory Bremner was chatting to Matt Forde as they left Matt's venue (not sure if he was participating or watching). Ahir was drinking with friends in the bar after his show.

We didn't get home to Paisley till after1 am, despite the last show finishing at 10.30 pm. Between the time it took to shuffle out of the venue, then walk to the tram stop (diverting via McDonald's for a cheeky milkshake), then missing the tram by seconds, we didn't get back to Ingliston till midnight.

It was worth it though. A great day, even if my dinner at the City Cafe was yuck.

Saturday, 8 August 2026

Edinburgh Fringe: Saturday 8th August 2026

A pleasant drive to Edinburgh, parking at the Ingliston Park & Ride. I need a pee, so I make use of the one toilet facility operational at the ticket booth. The tram still terminates at West End because of the Princes Street closure. The morning is dry and bright, but breezy, the sun warming my face as I head to Alandas for an ice cream, buying a two-scoop cone with White Chocolate Coconut Cornflakes and Pistachio Brownie. It's melting fast, so I race to lick around the outside before it drips. My fingers end up slightly sticky, the massive ice cream melting faster than my tongue can lick. I make my way to Monkey Barrel 1.

The queue is already halfway up the street. I curse my dilly-dallying.

11:05 (1hr) Glenn Moore: Work in Progress

Monkey Barrel 1. Ticket Price: £10

I get seated in the second row, though, filling the single seat left.

Glenn Moore is performing a work in progress, so he has his tablet, which he uses to read his jokes. I'm surprised by how fluent the jokes are, even at this early stage in the process. A few clunkers die, but mostly his material was excellent. Once he develops them into a full set, it won't appear as disjointed. A good start.

I have a big gap before the next show. I buy a Mexican Oval and a bottle of Coke Zero from a Greggs for lunch, wander over to the Pleasance to see if I can slip in another show (unfortunately, the only ones I'm interested in are either sold out or overlap). I go to the Princes Park Gardens to find somewhere to sit. My stomach gurgles, my bowels tighten. I get my five-minute warning of an imminent evacuation. Shit! I make for the nearest place - the National Gallery. The shock of it being closed due to industrial action buys me another five minutes. I reach a nearby pub just in time. Thankfully, the cubicle is free, and I explode. I only mention this because it's relevant later.

14:55 (1hr) Eric Rushton: Could Well Be In

Monkey Barrel 2. Ticket Price: £15

I'm feeling much better by the time I return to Monkey Barrel. This time it's downstairs at MB2. I stand in the queue inside, only to be told that that's for people without tickets. The staff direct me to the other side of the room. I'm third in.

I don't want to be right in front of the microphone, so I move back a row and sit by the wall. The view is still good from this safer seat. The bloke who ends up in the front row seat I would have been in is engaged by Eric several times during the show.

Eric's stage persona (and possibly his real-life one too) is that of a man with mental health issues, particularly depression. He's from a large, non-Catholic family that suffered hardship as he grew up. Yet his mum always knew what present to get him to brighten each Christmas. He knuckled down at school, determined to lift him and his mum out of poverty. He got an interview for Oxford, the home of the dictionary, but didn't get in. He went to Warwick instead. There he caught the stand-up bug, and he's been ploughing on in that field ever since. The dartboard onstage was a recent birthday gift from his mum. He couldn't understand why she would give him one. The story's resolution provides the answer.

I didn't buy into the comedy here. His depression casts a shadow over the laughs. His lack of confidence undersells the performance. The writing is good, and the jokes are there, so why did I just feel sorry for him? It ends on a positive note, thank f***.

I decide it isn't worth risking dinner, so, instead, I spend that money on a ticket to another show.

16:35 (1hr) Garrett Millerick: "We Tried it Your Way"

Pleasance Baby Grand.

I end up in the front row for this show. We've been encouraged to use our phones during this show as it is interactive.

G-Dog iteration number 1.

We have a pre-show questionnaire to complete. We need to provide our name, ask a question for Millerick, say whether we've ever wanted to perform stand-up (I lie and say no), and suggest a subject we'd like a stand-up routine written about. I suggest 'getting caught short on the way to a gig'.

Of course, my subject is one of the three he selects. He interviews me briefly, then replies, "Andrew, I'll be honest with you. Sometimes you can give too much information." My subject didn't win the vote (but did come second, out of three).

Garrett's show is about two things: the blinding headaches that stop him from doing his job, and his decision to create an AI to see if it could replace him. The end result reflects how good he is as a stand-up, a powerful presence on stage, something a computer can never mimic... yet.

I enjoyed this hour, even though I was part of it.

18:15 (1hr) Celia Pacquola: Gift Horse

Upstairs at Assembly Roxy. Ticket Price: £15

I decided I couldn't last all night without eating, so I found a Sainsbury's Local and bought some crisps and an energy bar for my dinner.

Upstairs at the Roxy really does mean going up a lot of stairs. The square staircase goes up and up and up. I end up sitting in the third row, off to the left.

A staff member, not Celia.

This is a wonderful hour of skillfully crafted stand-up, delivered with charm and delight. Starting with the unwanted kayak birthday present that her boyfriend Dara gave her, she launches into the journey that gift took her on, explaining all the questions it raised and feelings it created. It is very funny. It is easy to see why it won the top award at this year's Melbourne Comedy Festival.

20:15 (1hr) Spencer Jones: Dogs

Queen Dome at Pleasance Dome. Ticket Price: £18

I grab a hot chocolate before Spencer's show and join what turns out to be the wrong queue. The staff at the Pleasance Dome are rigorous in getting us into the right shape queue, as Dogs is completely sold out.

Likewise, inside the venue, they ensure there are no gaps in a row, demanding that we move to the end and sit within the designated spaces. Spencer is already on stage when we arrive, painting a picture of a dog on a canvas. He never refers to it again.

This is a silly show. He wears papier-mache masks and false teeth, uses several props for comic effect, and walks several imaginary dogs and performs as one or two. He builds a loop of sounds over the course of the show and uses it to punctuate that a sketch is over; he seems not to have a running order, randomly selecting what comes next, then asks the tech at the end what he's missed so he can do it.

He comments early on about the stutter he has developed and his recent Tourette's. He gives funny examples of the latter, making me wonder whether the confession is genuine. It seems a weird thing to joke about in the current social climate if it isn't true. The stutter is very much in evidence, not so much the Tourette's, unless that also presents as him wiggling his tongue, which he does a lot.

The audience laughed a lot.

21:50 (1hr) Jamie Kilstein: Can't Tie Knots

Lounge at Gilded Balloon Teviot. Ticket Price: £18

I head to the Gilded Balloon Teviot building. There is no queue at the Lounge for Jamie Kilstein, so I buy a drink and sit in the cafe. Amanda Knox's book is on sale. Then I notice the queue on the balcony and realise she is up there for her meet-and-greet. There was a controversy over her performing this show, but she seems to have won over public opinion, based on the number of good reviews. It's a sellout.

I forgot to take a picture of my view of Jamie's stage. The crowd is sparse for the size of the room. Stupidly, I automatically move to the end of the row, sitting against the wall, programmed to do so by requests in previous shows. A group of foreign lads pack in beside me. Then I see no other row has done this. I don't enjoy the crush.

Jamie's show is dark. Although Celia's appearance at the Fringe was my prompt to drive through, I wanted to see Jamie's show for myself. I saw Jamie many years ago at The Stand in Glasgow. I even own a few of his albums: "Zombie Jesus" (2009), "Libel, Slander and Sedition" (2011) and "What Alive People Do" (2013). These were made before he got cancelled for cheating on his wife. Can't Tie Knots refers to his attempts to kill himself when his personal life and career imploded. There's a badly tied noose hanging from the mic stand, a prop he handles several times to show his state of mind at the time.

The show's narrative timeline confused me. One minute he's having a panic attack at Robin Williams' funeral (yes, THAT Robin Williams - they were friends), then he's telling us how Robin stopped him from quitting stand-up during the interval of The Book Of Mormon. He's at the show with his wife, yet he claims he met her through the church, which he joined in 2020, years after Robin killed himself. He found God through mushrooms, also encountering Robin and Jerry Garcia on the same trip, further adding to the confusion.

(Edit: the confusion is mine - he's been married twice, though I didn't hear him mention he was referring to a 'first' wife during the show).

This show felt like a confession, an attempt to rebuild his career by addressing his fuck ups and the forces that drove him to want to kill himself. His neuroses are writ large. It's messy, but with some extra clarity, it has the potential to become something great.

I left the show feeling vulnerable. It was late, and I was on my own. I craved a hug, the warmth of a body, reassurance that my life was worth living. Edinburgh was full of Saturday night revellers. Maybe one drunk girl might have taken pity on me and complied if I'd asked.

But I didn't. Instead, I headed to McDonald's and ordered a strawberry milkshake. I chose to live vicariously, knowing I had a dodgy bowel and an hour's drive ahead of me.

The journey passed without incident, except for the M8 being shut at Junction 8 Baillieston. Later in bed, I did suffer from recurrent windy pops.

Thursday, 6 August 2026

The Thursday Show, The Stand, Glasgow Thursday 6th August, 2026

I didn't fancy a night with Marti Pellow at the Kelvingrove Bandstand, despite being my wife and mother-in-law's chauffeur to and from the event. To kill time, rather than go home and return later, I thought I'd pay The Stand a visit, even though I didn't know who was on the bill (they don't publicise the Thursday lineup, referring to it as 'subject to change'). The comedy night would be far cheaper than a ticket to Marti (£75 after fees) or even a trip to the cinema. Normal Thursday night price is £11 inc booking fee, but as I'm a member I get in for £6.

Then I get an email from The Stand informing me the show would now finish at 10:10 pm, not 9:30 pm, as advertised, because they'd added a special guest to the bill. They'd happily refund me if this time change was not suitable. The later time actually suited me better as Marti wouldn't finish till 10:30 pm. I didn't see the social media post about the "Incredible secret special guest" until after the show.

After dropping off the pair on Sauchiehall Street, I drove over to Great Western Road, found a free space on a side street and headed to the venue. There was no indication on the board outside who was performing.

As I walk into the bar, the staff announce the doors are open, but it turns out to be a reminder as the room is already half full. The curtain is pulled over behind the back bench, so I'm not expecting a capacity crowd. I sit near the door at the back.

I buy an Irn Bru, see the socials board next to the bar and work out tonight's comedians are: Liam Farrelly, Chris Thorburn, Sinead Walsh and Ray Bradshaw. I spend the rest of my time people-watching, reading from my Kindle app, and scrolling through social media waiting for the show to start. Another lone attendee sits beside me. The room fills up so much that the staff open up the rear of the room.

Liam Farrelly is our MC for the evening. The Paisley comic does a great job getting to know the crowd, while integrating his material into the chat. His thick accent can mostly be understood by the international visitors. Dave is from Australia, though he sounds Scottish because he emigrated there thirty years ago. He was a chef in the merchant navy and is back to see his granddaughter, who is also present. She is studying commerce at Glasgow Uni, but hopes to study Business Law next.

A Lidl carrier bag sits on the stage platform. Liam tells the women who left it there to remove it, but not before he has a look inside. It contains a birthday cake and a knife, which is the best way to carry a weapon in Glasgow. It turns out the middle lady is 55 today. She is currently unemployed but has just produced a short film and is about to start work on the Batman film next week. She'll be on crowd control, she explains, a glorified security guard. Liam's still impressed.

So is Chris Thornburn, our first act. He studied film, and he engages with the birthday girl, using the conversation to transition into his movie material. He's also testing some new material, and it shows a little; his flow is slightly off, but still a solid performance with lots of laughs.

I don't find Sinead Walsh as funny. I've not encountered her before, an Irish lesbian who might pass for a boy, if it weren't for her boobs. Her set plays with examples of this ambiguous gender, such as at the airport, where the male and female security personnel can't decide which of them should frisk her. The routine about being told by her mother that she should be more like her brother pays off as you'd expect (she too drinks and shags women). I'm not sure if I'm witnessing an inexperienced comic or a nervous one, as she doesn't always commit to the material. Or it could be I'm not her demographic.

After the first interval, Liam discovers the man in the front row, Roddie, is also fifty-five today. He's a PE teacher at Paisley Grammar and is here with his daughter, who works in the Coop.

After a bit of chat, Liam then advises us to keep our phones in our pockets and be in the room for the next act, superstar comedian Kevin Bridges. The room erupts with cheers and clapping.

Kevin is working up some material for his next tour and brings his notes with him. This is his debut at the new venue, and it takes him a while to settle, not entirely happy with the volume of his microphone, still feeling his way around the space. When he hits his stride, though, he is phenomenal. He does thirty-five minutes before the second interval. The crowd loved him, especially getting to see him for such a low ticket price.

Headliner Ray Bradshaw jokes that Kevin was only supposed to do ten minutes, so we got good value. I didn't think this was true, given they'd extended the show time by forty minutes, but it got a laugh. He explained that when the Stand phoned to inform him they'd pushed back his slot to accommodate a special guest, they didn't tell him who it was. He reckoned it would either be Kevin or possibly Frankie Boyle. When he arrived at the venue and saw the Porsche outside, he knew it wasn't Frankie.

Liam had earlier identified a Texan brother and sister in the front row, with the girl working in an outdoor nursery in Maryhill. Ray knew of this place, as one of his footballing buddies sent his son there. There was an issue, though: the boy was being bullied by another lad who kept biting him. The nursery teacher laughed and said she knew who that was. Small world.

Ray's set is a mishmash of old and new material, all of it effortlessly funny. He is always good value. The story of his deaf dad and uncle working out which house in Sandhead his deaf aunt lived in was especially funny as we'd stayed in that village earlier this year and I could picture the scene exactly.

At the very end, Liam invited a young girl in a wheelchair onto the stage. She had a question to ask a special someone in her life. Her partner, also skinny, young and pierced, was invited to join her, whereupon the wheelchair girl got down on both knees and produced a ring. We couldn't hear the response as neither remembered to use the microphone. The pair got emotional and hugged each other. It took an intervention from Liam, taking back the mic, to let us know she'd said Yes. They were awarded the pair of tickets to another show, rather than it being drawn randomly from a hat.

I returned to collect my wife and mother-in-law, extremely pleased with my night. They had had a good time too.

It's amazing to think that what had been intended as just something to do turned into such a special evening. And all for six quid. Good on The Stand. Get out there, folks. You never know how good it will be.

Ticket Price: £5 (member price) & £1 Booking Fee = £6 from The Stand website.

Thursday, 30 July 2026

Breaking The News - Commonwealth Games Special, BBC Radio Recording, Drygate, Glasgow. Thursday 30th July, 2026.

Host: Des Clarke

Panellists:

Mark Nelson

Krystal Evans

Ria Lina

Liam Withnail

Audience Question:

Q: It's the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow this week. What would you win a gold medal for and why?

Producer Chris stepped in while Dave was on holiday.

Of all the panellists, Mark was the funniest, with most of his jokes landing. Liam came second, Ria third and way behind Krystal. As an American with no interest in sport, her biggest contribution was to suggest she would win a gold medal for shagging. Ria joked that for anyone affected by any of these issues, there would be a phone number at the end of the show. Krystal jumped in with, "yeah, my phone number".

Ria had a facial twitch (obviously, not important for a radio show).

The buzzers didn't work for the buzzer round, so the comedians had to raise a hand to make their suggestions.

This episode turned quite dark. It'll be interesting to hear what they could salvage. Des was in top quip form.

Ticket Price: Free from BBC Tours and Shows

Wednesday, 29 July 2026

Mika, Summer Nights at the Bandstand, Kelvingrove Bandstand, Glasgow. Wednesday 29 July 2026

By the time my wife decided she'd like to see this gig, the tickets had sold out. Alerts on Twickets had proven fruitless, but I luckily searched Ticketmaster at the right time to snag two resales, albeit with service fees adding almost the price of a whole ticket to the cost. It was worth it, though, just to see the big, beaming smile on my wife's face when I told her why we couldn't go to the cinema on Wednesday night. The Odyssey would need to wait.

On Tuesday, the rain was torrential, but we lucked out, and it stayed dry tonight. It was chilly once the sun set, so I was glad I'd worn my jacket. So much for the heatwave.

Confession time: I'm not much of a Mika fan. I can appreciate his art, but musically, it doesn't touch the places that rock music reaches. That being said, his charm and energy won me over. It was a great concert. He loves performing. The fans danced, waved their arms, and sang along in all the right places. My back ached, and I had a giant in front of me, his head higher than my eye level despite me being the next step up.

A special moment occurred during Big Girls (You are Beautiful) when Mika joined us in the audience. He paused a few feet from us to request that everyone let go of their inhibitions and dance like they were at the Butterfly Lounge. Having stoked the crowd, he ran along our row right in front of us to continue singing amongst the crowd.

My wife said it was her best concert of the year so far, even better than her faves, Take That. I couldn't argue - it was her favourite. My only gripe was he didn't play the piano, remaining the frontman for the entire show. And for that reason I preferred his intimate show at SWG3 earlier this year.