Alan Davies "Think Ahead", GICF, King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 29th March, 2026

Alan Davies is a national treasure, beloved by many for his 24 years on QI, his lead performance on Jonathan Creek and his many years in stand-up. He has comedy skills, crafted over his sixty years on the planet. Yet, this show is awkward, with sudden gear changes that, without warning, bring shock and silence. He knows this, but hasn't worked out how to talk about the subject matter without it affecting him.

There's no support act or interval, just a straight eighty minutes of Alan. He opens by establishing the audience's general ages, the youngest being in their teens and the oldest in their nineties, and where people are from, one bloke revealing he's from the same place as Alan. It feels like he's warming up, finding his groove, before starting a show he hasn't performed since December. He has a reminder card with the show's running order on a table in case he forgets what's next.

He talks about his kids, about getting a prostate exam, about porn and about erectile dysfunction, wringing out laughs from each slightly hackneyed topic. He explains that in porn, you never hear real conversations, like "Am I squashing you?" He is mock surprised when only one person, a woman, admits to suffering from ED, given the age range in the audience, as statistically fifty per cent of men over fifty suffer from the condition. He posits that perhaps Scottish men with ED hate stand-up comedy and would never set foot in a theatre for fear of being laughed at. Alan uses the little blue pills. He's disappointed if, after taking one, his wife is not in the mood. "But I've taken it now. These things cost a fiver, you know." 

During his porn routine, he says, in real life, men never get to finish on a facial. They might try it once, only to be lambasted by their partner, who complains that it went in their eye and to fetch the eye bath from the medicine cabinet quickly before they get conjunctivitis. Shouldn't that be "cumjunctivitis", I wonder? (my joke, not his).

It's when he opens up about his relationship with his father that the laughs rightly grind to a halt faster than an emergency stop. With nary a warning, other than mentioning that he recently released a memoir, Alan takes us back to when he was ten, explaining his father would visit him at night for 'special cuddles'. He paints us a picture, his dad in the big pants, without going into too much physical detail.  You can see Alan still feels the chest-gripping anxiety as he opens up about it. There is silence in the room. 

He moves on, barely mentioning it again until the end, where he explains why he chose to talk about it and what happened. The denouement is fitting.

I hope Alan found this show cathartic. With the revelation out there, laid to rest, perhaps he can heal and return to being properly funny again.

Ticket Price: £26 x2 + Booking Fee £2.60 x2 + Venue Fee £2 x2 =  Total £61.20 from See Tickets.

GICF Comedy Gala 2026, King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 29th March, 2026

This was my third consecutive GICF Gala in a row, and it had probably the strongest line-up so far. 

As we were also seeing Alan Davies later on, we decided to make a day of it. We put the dogs into the kennels and arranged to have lunch with Colette and her hubby at The Griffen before the show. Graeme brought the car, not realising that on-street parking is no longer free on a Sunday, and ended up parking quite a distance away, on the other side of Charing Cross. He'll not do that again (they got soaked in the rain on the walk back after the show).

The lunch was good. We pencilled in doing it again next year.

The view from our seats.

The Gala opened with Almost Angelic, the musical double act of Karen Dunbar and Tom Urie, kicking the show off in absurd style. Afterwards, a stagehand pushed the platform, upon which Tom sat with his keyboard, across the stage the long way, much to Karen's mock despair. They'll be supporting Marti Pellow at the Bandstand in August.

Susie McCabe, as MC, wasted no time bringing on the first act, Des Clarke. My wife and I had heard his jokes just a few days ago, including one which I repeated at lunch, but they were still funny. 

Next up was Susan Riddell, using PowerPoint to illustrate the material relating to her arrest for (alleged) "Terrorism and Malicious Mischief". She's barred from Edinburgh because of this as part of her bail conditions and has to accept a 7 pm curfew. I'd love to hear the full story sometime.

Fred MacAulay referenced one of Susan's jokes at the start of his five minutes. A veteran of the circuit, Fred gave a quality set. I'm looking forward to seeing him on tour later in the year (though I'll probably skip his show with Ally McCoist at the Armadillo at those ticket prices).

Amanda Dwyer gave a funny but low-energy set, winning over the audience.

Likewise, the relatively unknown Ifrah Qureshi gave a fine set, demonstrating a good eye for comedy, especially at her family's expense.

Connor Burns closed the first half, giving a performance that ably demonstrated why he sold out five shows at the King's this festival. He is a comedy superstar in the making.

After the break, Susie gave us five minutes on why her life has been a struggle of late, with a heart attack being the least of her worries.  

Then, Karen Dunbar returned for a routine about when she and her sister (God rest her soul) went to the social club and got hammered on the new beverage, White Lightning.            

Another newcomer, Jack Brookmyre, looked uncomfortable in his sleeveless denim jacket patched with heavy metal band logos, but gave a confident performance. His voice work is great, especially his Gollum. One to look out for.

Stuart Mitchell's star is in the ascendant. He's always reliable for a laugh and today was no exception.

Mhairi Black was a more left-field choice, but she showed that her transition from politics to stand-up has gone well. She has always been a great speaker and knows how to be funny.

Rosco McClelland closed the stand-up element of the Gala, confident enough to throw in some new material which didn't hit the mark. 

After this, the Festival Director, Krista MacDonald, gave an impassioned speech about celebrating Scottish comedy, a flourishing circuit despite the lack of financial support it receives as an art form. She introduced a video highlighting each nominee for the Billy Connolly Spirit of Glasgow Award. They were:

Top Row:

Amanda Dwyer (Comedian) 
Chris Conway (Comedy promoter/owner of Blackfriars of Bell Street)
Kate Hammer (Comedian)

Second Row:

Kim Blythe (Comedian)
Susan Riddell (Comedian)
Zara Gladman (Writer, performer, and producer)

The winner was: Amanda Dwyer.

Accepting the award, she was speechless, never believing she would win, already assuming that her Material Girl partner, Susan Riddell, would take it.  The short video they showed of Billy Connolly praising Amanda was quite emotional. He looked unwell, with the moonface of a man possibly on long-term steroids. Lovely to hear his voice, though.

As we departed the room, the audience was treated to an airing of his 1974 song, "If It Wasnae for Your Wellies". Lovely to hear that again.

All the nominees were present, even those not performing (Chris Conway isn't a comedian). I know this because an old friend of mine managed to snatch selfies with each individual at the stage door. It's his thing.

Outside, we spotted Dave Flynn, producer of Breaking the News. My wife wouldn't let me take his picture. She didn't need to say it. She just gave me a look.

Ticket Price: £24.10 x2 + Transaction Fee £3.95 = £52.15 from ATG Tickets.

GICF, Daniel Sloss "Bitter", SEC Armadillo, Glasgow. Saturday 28th March. 2026

I have become obsessed with looking for themes in the comedian's pre-show music. Tonight's show at the Armadillo had 'Till I Collapse by Eminem, Bonfire by Knife Party, My Way by Limp Bizkit, Kids by MGMT, Sail by Awolnation, Pieces by Sum 41, and She Hates Me by Puddle of Mudd. 

Plenty to work with there.

As we wait for the show to start, there are two unexpected arrivals on the stage. A toddler wearing a red romper suit appears, joined by Daniel. The seventeen-month-old girl toddles across to the middle of the stage, looking at the backdrop and lights, then turns around to face the audience. We wave at her. She waves back, cue laughter and aaawing from the crowd. She wanders away again. Daniel calls to her and demonstrates an extravagant bow. She crouches like she's filling her nappy, not quite understanding the instruction. Then, unbidded, she toddles back to the middle of the stage and waves again before leaving on her own volition. (Later, Daniel thanks us for getting his daughter addicted to the stage.)

He caught her before she floated off,
still high from being on stage.

The last time Daniel played here was in October 2022. Kai Humphries was his support then, too. Daniel's four-year-old son introduces him, shouting out his first name into the backstage mic.

Kai is a forty-two-year-old, working-class Geordie comedian, living in Glasgow with his beautiful, mixed-race wife. They have no kids, but not for want of trying. He tries to prank us at the start by saying he'd placed a prize under one of our seats, suggesting we should all have a feel around, miming the action, then admits the prize is a piece of used gum, laughing at those who fell for it, reminding us the seats were upright when we arrived. He jokes that he does this at every gig, and one time, a woman fell for it. And she was in a wheelchair.

Kai's proud of his working-class roots. He talks about the differences in class, overhearing a schoolboy in a posh uniform reveal that his favourite colour is Teal. Kai had to look up what that was: a mix of green and blue, which he thinks, in Glasgow, should be outlawed. You canny have both.  

Kai's worried that, now that he's getting older, his life is changing. If he falls over, his mates no longer laugh. They check he's okay. It's not that he's fallen, it's now that he's had a fall. 

He's an engaging comedian and worthy of the support slot. As he takes great pains to remind us, he's playing The Stand on Saturday, June 13th (3pm), performing different material, so he urges us all to come along. Well, not all of us. We can't all fit in. 

The link is on his socials and here. 

Daniel took a year off after the birth of his daughter. He had been away working during the formative early years after his son's birth, so he wanted to be present this time. He loved and hated the experience. It was great to be there for all the firsts, but not working made him feel guilty. After eight months, his wife informed him it was time. He should return to stand up. It wasn't healthy for him to be performing new bits in front of his kids, especially unfiltered material. 

He dearly loves his wife. She's beautiful and wise, despite being from Aberdeen (she's a rescue), and he is in awe of the miracle of her body, which has borne him two children. The fact that her breasts can produce different milk in the morning and evening, detect infections in the baby's saliva, and then provide the kid with the necessary antibodies to protect itself, amazes him. If only male bodies could do the same. He then went into a routine about this, involving female saliva and blowjobs. 

The fact that she is the younger sister of an ex-girlfriend raised some laughs. How awkward it would have been to meet her parents, not for the first time.  

Daniel is a consummate professional. He takes his job seriously, if not himself. He admits he says things that are the opposite of what he means, because it is funny. 

I found an example on Facebook. This is a birthday greeting for his wife:

I love you, have an awful day, you fat cunt.

Out of context, that would be a horrible thing to say. He qualifies the comment by prefacing it with this:

Happy Birthday to my little rat pig wife, Kara. A woman who hates sincere compliments and most forms of

PDAs. Resulting in the only way to make her truly happy is by saying very mean, cruel and untrue things to her stupid, gremlin face while hoping nobody overhears and assumes I'm an emotionally abusive husband. 

You can see why he is in therapy. 

He uses the latter half of the show to explain his feelings about the Channel 4 Russell Brand documentary he contributed to. He acknowledges that, as a Scottish comedian, he is a Z-list celebrity at best, and that he did the bare minimum when he agreed to comment on the rumours he'd heard about Russell's behaviour on the scene, rumours dating back nearly twenty years. 

All the important women in his life - his wife, his agent/manager, and the woman with whom he'd co-written the show X (about her rape by a joint friend) - told him beforehand that he shouldn't do the documentary. But he didn't listen to them, because they were women. The fallout and fame that arose from his contribution, as the only comedian prepared to speak out about Russell, left him in a dark place, drowning in weed and whiskey. Kara told him to stay off social media and ignore the calls, but he didn't listen. If only she had had the foresight to ask her dad to tell him not to do it, then he would have listened, because then it would have come from a Man. 

He finishes the set with a routine about what, as parents, they decided to call their baby daughter's vagina. They settled on Daniel's choice of "Pinkie". Not the little finger, but because it was kind of that colour. At least, that's what he said was the reason. They use the title every day until its use becomes commonplace. It's only when his mother-in-law overhears the term that further investigation into the name's origin is sought. 

I didn't know 'Rat' was another name for vagina. Nor did I know the specific nickname for a rat baby, but as a show-ending punchline, it was brilliant. Awkward, awful and incredibly funny, which just about sums up Daniel's comedy.

Ticket Price: £45 x 2 plus booking fee £7.25 per ticket and venue fee £2.50 per ticket = £109.50 from See Tickets.

GICF: Des Clarke "Life After Des", Citizens Theatre, Glasgow. Thursday 26th March, 2026

The cynic in me might think this show was an excuse for Des to dredge up his old bangers from ten years ago, the last time he did regular standup. When your set includes references to the attempted terrorist bombing at Glasgow airport (2007), jokes about Scottish contestants on Family Fortunes ("Name a kind of bean", buzz, "A lesbian") and Wheel of Fortune (Can I have a G for Jumper please),  and carrying the Olympic torch through Glasgow (2012), you realise he's replaying his greatest hits.

But that would be unkind. He is, but he knows it. And he does it very well.

Advert inside the unisex toilet door

Des grew up in the Gorbals in the high flats ("My nickname was Lemonade because I lived 7 up"), so this show, at the Citizens, is a homecoming for him. He's proud that he's been able to fill this theatre, the audience full of friends, family and fans (the front row is full of his aunts and cousins). He admits at the start that he's shitting himself, hoping it goes well, which it does. His natural charm and loquacity keep us engaged, even on the rare occasion when he fluffs a routine (he kept mixing up the accents about a conversation with an American tourist in Edinburgh. His material is well-constructed, rich in humour, and delivered with perfect timing.  

We feel warmth towards him because he presents as a local, working-class boy who done good. He often makes himself the butt of his jokes, such as when he accidentally did a Prince Charles impression in front of the man, or when he got flustered and forgot the Olympic torch-carrying information, then messed up his section of the run. He's not cocky about his success. He can't believe he's got as far as he has. 

I would say, though, if he decides to do another show, he'll need to come up with some fresh material.

The support act was Scottish comedian Robin Grainger. Robin opened with a routine harking back to 2022 when he performed a show at the Edinburgh Fringe to an audience of one, also known as an audient. The story snowballed when it was reported in The Scotsman, with Robin ending up giving press interviews to news organisations across the globe, becoming an overnight media sensation. He also commented on being single and dressing like a teen. His bath routine finale was hilarious. He's an engaging, funny and confident performer, but I don't know if I'd pay to see his show. He's still more of a mid-level performer.

A view of Grado and Adele  

On the Heart Radio Breakfast show, which Des co-hosts with Grado and Adele, listeners were asked which walk-on music Des should use, with the EastEnders theme and The One and Only by Chesney Hawkes mooted. In the end, he went with Back in Black by AC/DC, matching his stage apparel. 

The preshow music was suitably mainstream and of broad appeal to his radio audience.

House of Fun - Madness

Give a Little Bit - Supertramp

Send Me On My Way - Rusted Root

Personal Jesus - Depeche Mode

Once In a Lifetime - Talking Heads

Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard - Paul Simon

Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros

At the interval, the woman on my left jiggled her bum so much to Jump In the Line by Harry Belafonte, I thought I was getting a lap dance. I enjoyed watching the ushers tell off the other patrons in the front row of the Circle for placing their drinks on the balcony shelf. I'd either be sending the ushers telepathic signals, urging them to pounce, or trying to muster telekinesis to knock the drink over the side.   

My eye was drawn to one of the statues within the room. I suspect she may be a distant relative of the Weeping Angels, known as a Saucy Angel, intended to make their victims look away. 

Don't blush!

Before you know it, you'd be living in the Noughties with a family of four and another on the way, thinking to yourself, "Where is that large automobile? This is not my beautiful house! This is not my beautiful wife! Well... how did I get here?" 

At least, Des's material would be new.

Ticket Price: £27 x2 + Booking Fee £1.50 = £55.50 from the Citizens Theatre website.

GICF: Harry Enfield And No Chums! King's Theatre, Glasgow. Wednesday 25th March, 2026

I attended this gig on my own. The irony.

I expected a nostalgia-filled trip down memory lane, with Harry sharing clips from his various series, but that wasn't what we got. Yes, there were a couple of videos, but the screen was reserved mainly for photos of his family and his various comedy creations to illustrate the narrative of his life. Maybe he didn't want to pay the TV companies for the footage.   

He opened the show as King Charles III, wearing a crown (as per his merch). He thanked us, his subjects, for coming along, setting the tone with a joke about his brother Andrew. Then, having removed his headwear, he began recounting the tale of his life, from foetus to the present, peppering the show with stories about his characters, the people he worked with and the celebrities he encountered along the way. He also performed new sketches as some of his favourite creations. Harry's vocal mimicry is superb. He surprised us with a perfect Bob Mortimer and a snivelling Ricky Gervais, transforming the latter into Gollum, who fawned over Harry's talent. 

Things I learned:

He was one of four siblings, the only son. His mum developed post-natal depression after the birth of his youngest sister, and he took to gurning to try to lighten her spirits whenever she took one of her turns. He also ate coal and was a late developer.

He got sent to boarding school until age fifteen, being transferred to a regular comprehensive after he admitted to his parents that the Benedictine monk teachers regularly beat him.

Having passed his O Grades early, he got moved up a year, so he got to hang around with the big boys, who would take him to punk gigs in London, where he could nervously approach the likes of Joe Strummer post-gig to tell him how good they were.

At York University, he reluctantly went to the theatre with his girlfriend and had his eyes opened to the possibility of performing comedy. The double act they saw blew his mind with their Monty Python-style humour. He went on to form a double act called Dusty and Dick with Bryan Elsley (who later co-created Channel Four drama, "Skins"), took the show to Edinburgh, then headlined on the London comedy scene, with the likes of Paul Merton and Mullarkey and Myers in support (as in comedy legend Mike Myers). 

Paul Whitehouse was a mate who lived nearby on the Hackney estate (Charlie Higson was his next-door neighbour). Originally, a plasterer, Paul would latch onto character catchphrases, wringing the comedy from them. Harry would nick the best ones, writing them up into sketches. He paid Paul back by inviting him onto his show, and the rest is history.

Harry was friends with George Harrison. Once, when he was over at George's house, Paul McCartney popped over, and they all had a few drinks. The conversation devolved into bitterness as George related how his business manager had swindled Handmade Films out of millions, the ippy trippy hippy turning more scouse by the second, requiring Harry to step in with his "Calm down" catchphrase in the style of his Scouser character. Whether that actually happened is debatable, but it made a good story.

Harry had a home in Cornwall, but much as he loved the beautiful views, the village was full of London hoorahs. One day, driving through the village to visit a friend, the road was chock full of these posh snobs, so in the car, Harry shouted, "Get out of the bloody way", a phrase his young daughter repeated with the window wound down as they passed by, only to realise one of the poshers was the then Prime Minister, David Cameron. They had a right laugh until David also turned up at the friend's house. And that was how Harry became friends with David.

The follow-up to that story came when Harry wrote the poshers' sketch, in which the pair of gentlemen surmise that David is queer. The next time David phoned Harry, he introduced himself as "Hi, it's Queers". Lovely man, terrible politics.

They hired Kathy Burke for the TV show because her acting was so bloody good.

He wrote a series of sketches for a character called Patrick the Paedo Priest, but bottled it when it came to using them on TV. His then-ten-year-old son even suggested a sketch for him, using the character.      

  

The Q&A led to a wonderful anecdote about working with Vic and Bob as minor characters on a Comic Strip film. Bob wanted to leave for the day because he had no lines and was only required to be in the background, so he asked Harry to ask the director, Peter Richardson, for permission to leave. Peter declined, so as revenge, Bob placed a turd of his own making on top of the privet hedge that divided the two leads' trailers. The turd was allegedly visible in the shot during filming. If that's true, I wonder how long it will take for Bob to share that story on "Would I Lie To You?"

      

Harry is now sixty-five, too old to perform as Kevin the teenager, but not too old to give us a really funny night. 

"Loadsalaughs!" 

Ticket Price: £47.50 plus fees = £54.25 from GICF (on presale)

Blurb

From the meteoric rise of Loadsamoney, a Thatcherite Visionary, to the fury of Kevin the Teenager, Harry will reflect on 40 years of being in comedy and bring some of his favourite characters vividly back to life on stage.

Then it’s over to your questions: your chance to ask how it all works for him, what he’s most proud of, and what he says to the many who ask, “You wouldn’t be allowed to do your stuff today, would you?”

Don’t miss an unforgettable evening with a brilliantly silly and strikingly insightful comedian

An Audience with Mick Miller, The Pavilion, Glasgow. Tuesday 24rd March, 2026

 

When I purchased tickets for this show, I selected seats in the front row of the Circle. I then got confused when Trafalgar Tickets sent me a second email with a different set of tickets attached. The bit the email didn't make clear was that they'd decided to close the Circle, and as such, move everyone downstairs to the Stalls. 

As you can see from the screenshot, taken an hour before the show, ticket sales were disappointing (the light blue dots represent unsold tickets).  

When we arrive at the venue, Mick is outside at the stage door, lighting a cigarette as he chats to a couple of fans. I don't stop. Horrible, stinky habit.  

The audience inside is predominantly that age group who can travel for free with their bus pass (I'm not talking schoolies). Any younger ones present remind me of unpaid carers taking an elderly relative to see the comedian from the telly, half a century ago, when telly only had three channels. They remember Mick being the bald one with the long hair and the youngest (he's seventy-six now).

Ryan Gleeson opens the show with a funny set, short enough to let us adjust to his facial hair, accent and unusual clothing (brown trousers so wide they looked homemade). He then introduces Mick. 

Mick doesn't mention the audience size and instead delivers a professional set packed with gag after gag, many of which are just as clever as those of any modern comedian. Most are unthemed, though a few link together, such as working with a circus. "The incontinent trapeze artist got sent on first to warm up the audience; the apprentice lion tamer is offered advice on what to do if the lion doesn't behave as expected: "If all that fails, what you do is reach down into the sawdust and grab a turd to throw in its face." "What if there's no turd?" "Don't worry, son, there will be."  

I knew Mick could deliver modern-style material. I'd seen him do it twenty years ago on a reality TV show called Kings of Comedy, where older and younger comedians swapped venues to see if they could raise a laugh. The thing about Mick is that he understands how to be funny without resorting to inappropriate material (by today's standards). Tonight, only one gag stepped close to the line: "A Chinese man opened a crow's shop. He asked me if I wanted to buy anything. I said, "Okay, I'll have a rook." (You have to imagine the accent).

After the interval, two chairs and a table were added to the stage, with two pints of what looked like Guinness, one with a straw. Ryan obviously didn't want to get beerhead on his beard and moustache. 

This section of the show was more loose and less funny. He discussed his time as a youth footballer, before he moved into showbiz, working in Pontins as a bluecoat.  Some of Ryan's questions sounded like lobs for Mick to score a gag, while others led to anecdotes that didn't go anywhere. 

Mick does a fine Bernard Manning impression, capturing both the voice, the manner and the style of the seventies comedian. 

Somehow, Mick's microphone died twice during this section, despite being replaced after the first time. 

When a woman got up to go to the toilet, Ryan automatically kicked into MC mode, asking the audience if she was with someone, and discovering her name. He wanted to play a practical joke on her by having her partner swap seats with someone in another part of the theatre. He wouldn't, and she wasn't away long enough to push it further. When she returned, Mick commented about the short time she'd been away, asking if it was a pee or a poo. She replied it was nothing - she was constipated - to which Mick recommended she pop two Imodium and everyone stand right back. People laughed, but not me. The joke was incorrect. He should have said Senokot. Imodium would only make her more constipated. I can forgive him the gaffe, as it was off the cuff. At least he chose a product from the correct section of the pharmacy.     

Mick finished the night performing his Noddy gag. I'd forgotten how it went. I don't think he did it justice tonight. It seemed rushed. Maybe he was dying for a fag.

Overall, the night went better than I expected. I had been concerned that the small audience would kill the gig, the laughs disappearing into the Gods, but that didn't happen. The space felt more like a comedy club with everyone consistently laughing. 

Ticket Price 2 x £31.00 plus Service fee  £3.95 = £65.95 from Trafalgar Tickets

Blurb

His workload is as busy now as it has ever been, he never stops! His deadpan delivery and his unique hairstyle are what people remember, but he constantly works on his act and is forever adding new gags and stories to keep it fresh. He can’t leave a venue without performing his set piece, Noddy routine. The audience just wouldn’t let him!

In this show, Mick performs a full comedy set in the 1st half and in the 2nd half is interviewed by comedian and close friend, Ryan Gleeson. The interview is very funny and informative, and it’s never the same twice. Ryan is always trying to find out new things and Mick keeps trying to make Ryan laugh.

This show is a must for comedy fans.

GICF: Maisie Adam, Work in Progress, The Old Hairdressers, Glasgow. Sunday 22nd March, 2026

It's never fair to review a Work in Progress as, by definition, the jokes are not the finished article. So instead, I'll reflect on other aspects of the night (That makes it sound like she wasn't funny. I promise she was).

This was my first visit to The Old Hardressers, a pub, not a barber shop, on Renfield Lane (although this was something for the weekend). The narrow building does a good job of concealing its attic performance space. We queued on the first floor for what turned out to be an intimate show. 

Maisie had her notes and explained that she would rate our responses to each routine out of ten, like Strictly, only without the number paddle. Despite not being the finished product, she reassured us she could definitely give us £12 worth of jokes, the price we'd paid for our tickets (excluding booking fee). Fortunately, her hit rate was high, rarely below seven, except for the last joke, which she rated a five.

What was a bit different was when she stopped to ask us our opinion about whether one of her bits was laughing at someone or with them. She was worried it might reflect badly on someone who had done something out of love, not incompetence. That opened a debate with the crowd, turning the evening into a counselling session, a creative writing group, a Q&A time and therapy. By the end, we had all agreed that Edinburgh are fannies (that's not why she isn't playing there).

She reminded us to please buy tickets to her actual tour show at The Pavilion on September 23rd. 

It's a big step up from The Stand and Glee Club, where she toured previously. If we do, though, she won't stop doing her voiceover ads for a 'well-known supermarket', because that money is funding vital home renovations so she and her husband can move out of her parents' house. 

Go see her. She is funny*. 

* selected lines only; tickets subject to availability; offer ends September 23rd, 2026; invitation excludes misogynists called Gabriel; online booking fees may apply. 

Ticket Price: £12 x 2 plus £2.40 booking fee = £26.40 from See Tickets via GICF