John Bishop, "Right Here, Right Now" Tour, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Saturday 19th February, 2022

It's not often I go to a comedy gig and am more amused by the audience than the comedian. And when I say the audience I mean the couple sat beside me. Not that John or his support act, Ray Bradshaw, were unfunny. Their material was a bit over-familiar but it still ticked the comedy boxes. It's just that the performance of the two beside me eclipsed that of the main man.

They arrived sharing the easy familiarity of two people who were obviously a couple, each clutching two half-pint tumblers of some coloured alcoholic liquid (I don't know what), I was sitting at the end of a row so got up to let them in. She was bulging out of a needlessly lowcut dress. I say needless because she'd already pulled so why did she feel the need to distract him from her face, behaviour and personality? It may even have fitted her once. He was in smart casual clothing, in no need to impress, and had the kind of tufty haircut that won't be necessary in a few years time once his male-pattern baldness catches up with the rest of his head.  

They settle down with their drinks and she pulls out her phone for the obligatory selfies. Then she Whatsapps a message to someone, her fingers lightning-fast, producing swathes of emojis in each sentence like they were an integral element of the English language. By now, the lights are down and John's on stage, sitting on a chair. His material is mostly about relationships and ageing and it seems apt for him to be sitting. Still, she types away, the glow of her screen muted due to a dark background. Eventually, she puts the phone away and plays catch up with her laughs, exaggerating how funny she finds John between sips of her drink. 

Then he needs the toilet. We both have to get up to let him out and again afterwards to let him back in. Then she needs the toilet. Lots of apologies directed at me as I have to rise again.

Later in the show, I notice her wriggling in her seat. She's pulling uncomfortable faces then wraps the bag strap around her tiny purse and leans across to apologise again, her words ever so slightly slurring. This time I twist round rather than stand up. 

As she staggers back, her heels higher than her head can cope with, her partner has to shout to remind her where her seat is. She isn't wearing the jacket she left with. I remain silent on the matter. None of my business. She flops back down into the seat.

The man, slightly inebriated, begins to repeat John's punchlines after he's told them. She, with surprise, giggles, "Is that what he said?" and laughs hysterically. He takes a picture on his phone of John on stage, forgetting to switch off the flash then checks how it turned out. No having to go to the chemist to get it developed, these days, as John might have remarked. 

Then she gets the drunken hiccups.

I count the Mississippi's. It's every five seconds. It's so loud my wife in the row in front can hear her. The general apologies start, often interrupted by another hiccup. He suggests she hold her nose and breath. They continue to chat like it's an episode of Gogglebox. By this time, I'm only half-listening to John. They both laugh at his material about not knowing how to behave when you're out because it's been so long we've all forgotten. 

The sad thing is they turned an otherwise ordinary night (sorry John) into something memorable. I need to get out more.  

Ticket Price: £47.50 plus £6.40 service charge. Total £53.90 each.

Mark Thomas "50 Things About Us", The Stand, Glasgow. Wednesday 16th February, 2022.

I don't normally book tickets to see a comedian twice on the same tour but because of the Ticketmaster debacle, I didn't think I was going to get to see him in Stirling. I went alone, this time because my pal tested positive for coronavirus. The Stand has a Covid policy to refund tickets in this situation so I'll get my money back on the unused ticket. 

Tonight's show was even better than the one at The Macrobert Arts Centre, despite essentially being the same material. The Stand is a proper comedy club with a better atmosphere. You feel closer to the comedian, seeing every bead of sweat as he performs his set. This also means he can see you, which was unfortunate for the numpty at the front who decided to take out his phone to send a text at the start of the second half. Mark politely ripped him apart for being rude to him and everyone around him. There were some quality heckles from the crowd ("Get out, get out, get out", a reference to one of Mark's jokes, and "Millions", a callback to a previous heckler whom Mark had handled with practised aplomb).  

The material seemed tighter tonight, even though he was perplexed that there were no diabetics in the crowd, in Glasgow, the chip capital of the world. I was primed ready with answers to obscure questions he asked last time but he'd trimmed that particular section so I didn't win a badge. He still gave us his Barry Cryer anecdotes but this time placed them near the end of the set and closed not on a gag about his shirt (different to the one above) but on one about his mum.  

I bought his book during the interval and got him to sign it after the show. I was too nervous to start a conversation except to say I also saw him in Stirling. At least now I can say I met one of my comedy heroes.  

Ticket Price: £15 each (no additional fees). 

Kevin Bridges, Work in Progress, Glee Club, Glasgow. Sunday 13th February, 2022

 

I missed out on tickets for Kevin's new tour so, on Friday, when The Glee Club announced a work in progress show for Sunday lunchtime, I jumped at the chance to go. When the email arrived, I was walking the dog on the Braes so she was unamused by me suddenly halting to type on my phone. She even approached passersby for some love and cuddles (to be fair, she does that often anyway).  

Kevin hasn't toured in four years and he was delighted to be back on stage testing his new material. Even though he had to refer to his notes occasionally, the material was strong covering the lockdowns (he does a good Jason Leitch impression), the Russia/Ukraine situation (giving it a Glasgow twist), getting married (stepping out of his comfort zone on city breaks) and having a kid (whom he named Paul, contrary to recent social trends) plus lots of other things I can't remember now. He gave us a good hour and fifteen minutes and we loved it, even the poor doctor on the front row, whom Kevin centred on every time he needed a segue for the next bit. I was so glad Kevin never extended his audience probing beyond Dr Phil, especially when he trotted out a bit about getting haemorrhoids and needing to go to Boots for a treatment. Thanks to the allocated seating, we ended up sitting in the second row, right beside the stairs onto the stage, so very much in the potential firing line. 

If you were lucky enough to get a ticket for his tour, you are in for a fun night. Even the tour support, Chris Washington, is great, based on the evidence today.

Our view of the stage (no photos allowed during the performance)

Jimeoin, "Turn It Up!" Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Saturday 12th February, 2022.

I nearly never went to this gig. My wife called off, leaving me with a spare ticket that, it turned out, no one wanted. Even when I tried to give them both away for free, still no one was interested. Brilliant seats too, near the middle of the front row in the Circle. 

So I went by myself and I'm so glad I did.

Jimeoin is like a human tickle. His littlest expressions can trigger a giggle which builds and builds, much like his routines, adding tag after tag after tag, each line funnier, throwing in callbacks when you least expect them. His material is as light as a feather, daft and silly, mining nuance for comic effect. He sprinkles in some exquisite flights of fancy such as what if every country had to walk like their national dance, before demonstrating a Spaniard going to the shops, then someone Irish dancing across a zebra crossing. He finished the show with some comic songs on his guitar. By the end, I was in fits of giggles, no longer self-conscious about the empty seat beside me. 

He played longer than billed, finishing at 10pm rather than 9.25pm so, by the time I reached the car park, the vehicles were gridlocked trying to get out, the Concert Hall having emptied at the same time. I ended up sitting patiently for twenty-five minutes until eventually, an Audi let me out (I know - an Audi - so unexpected). It took me more time to get out of that car park than it took me to drive all the way home. 

While I waited in the car park, my newly generated endorphins subsiding, none of the drivers stuttering past my car would make eye contact. Becoming irked,  I imagined ducking down, letting a few cars roll by then rising up again wearing a Michael Myers mask. I'd stare at the next driver not letting me out then exit my vehicle, stand beside their driver's window, holding a carjack in my hand, and tilt my head in incredulity while staring at them. I'd savour the concern growing on their trapped faces, their escape blocked by the car in front. Then I'd tap the window and ask, "Are you gonna let me out, mate?"

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I didn't have that kind of mask on me. Wrong time of year. 

Ticket Price: £18.50 each plus a transaction fee of £2.25 and postage £1.30.

Other funnies from the night:

Being aware of sucking in my stomach as I rose after the show, an action not unrelated to the fact the two young ladies on my right were total wowsers. Not that there would have been any universe where I could have impressed them, given I was old enough to be their dad and their attentive boyfriends were sitting right behind them. 

At the car park exit barrier, as I attempted to insert my ticket quickly into the machine, I hit my hand against the car's side window, having forgotten to wind it down. Fortunately, my embarrassment was spared as the barrier rose anyway.