Saturday, 12 February 2022

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. 

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