Ed Gamble, 'Hot Diggity Dog' Tour, King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 24th March 2024

The audience is considerably younger than last night's crowd. There are lots of dating couples clutching armfuls of theatre-bought drinks and snacks, indicating they are still in that early romantic stage of their relationship where extravagant gestures (and by that, I mean purchases) matter. I'm sitting one seat over in the same row of the Grand Circle as last night. My wife isn't there, having tested positive for Covid earlier (yes, that's still a thing), so a mate agreed to step in instead at the last minute (ish). I'm not letting him buy me snacks at those prices, though. We've known each other too long.

Ed has made more of an effort than Frank by bringing along a stage backdrop. With Elvis Ed spraying himself with mustard and Posh Boy Ed messily munching on a hot dog, Ed's name is hung in between, surrounded by dice and a diamond ring, giving us an inkling about what his material will be about tonight. 

Before we get to Ed, though, there is a support act. It's someone called Sam Lake (I'd never heard of him either), a comedian so camp that he can't finish a sentence without placing his hand on his (facial) cheek. He spends half his set introducing himself (he is married to a man named David), and the other half doing crowd work with the front row. 

We get the usual questions - "What's your name?" and "What do you do?" - followed by some comedic reaction riffs. One doesn't go to plan, though. The "homemade" (as her mother puts it) twenty-five-year-old daughter admits she doesn't work. "Ooh, taking after your lazy mum," Sam quips. "Why don't you work?" he asks accusingly. "I'm disabled," she replies. The audience audibly takes a sharp intake of breath. How is he going to dance around this one? Sam steps in a circle around the stage and then asks, "Which disabilities do you have?" "Multiple," comes the reply. He winces and asks, moving on, if the man beside her is her brother. "Yes," she replies."He's normal."  

Sam doubles over. "Gosh, I hope no one is recording this. I don't want to get cancelled."

For a support act, his interactions certainly warmed the audience. He was a bit light on actual material, though.   

Ed is a huge heavy metal fan. His pre-show (and interval) playlist consists entirely of metal tracks. Cleverly, he uses Motorhead's Ace of Spades to rev up the crowd before he comes on, repeating the record at the point it says his name, Gamble. 

He starts off with his own crowd work, uncovering a situation in which a daughter is sitting in the front row with her recently fired from Wagamama boyfriend, but her mother is up in the Upper Circle with a deep-voiced someone who is not her partner (we subsequently find out her partner, Alan, is there, too).

After this had been fully mined, we're off, with Ed barely pausing for breath as he steamrolls us through his set, covering topics like his posh boy persona, how the subjects he has previously mocked he has ended up doing (vaping, getting married), his Street's WhatsApp chat group, his honeymoon in Vegas and his feelings towards their pet cat.

It's a professional set with callbacks in all the right places. There are not a lot of surprises, but it's still a good, solid, loud hour or so of comedy. My ears are still ringing with laughter.

Ticket Price £26.50.

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