On the day of the show, we went out for a proper lunch rather than having a big dinner later. She chose Dé Buddha, a Nepali/mixed-cuisine restaurant in Collier Street, Johnstone. The service was fantastic, and the food was divine. We both had the Chicken Kathmandu. I had a coke with mine. I hadn't slept well and thought the caffeine would give me a lift.
I still needed an afternoon snooze. I awoke on the bed with the dog pawing me as if reminding me I was going out soon. My stomach gurgled, and I let out the noisiest, smelliest fart I've delivered in a long time, so unpleasant the dog jumped off the bed. This was not good. I was due to sit in a cramped theatre for two hours. I couldn't inflict such smells on a Scottish comedy crowd. Imagine the embarrassment of pretending it was my wife.
I dealt with the matter as best I could prior to departure, making sure I washed my hands afterwards. I then practised fart retention in the car with mixed success. I promised myself I'd try harder in the theatre.
Susan Riddell was Fern's support act. I recognised a lot of her material from the last time I saw her, but it is a testament to her quality that I still found her set funny. Her natural delivery does a great job of disguising the craft of her writing. She's still single, on the apps and missing the pleasure of a good argument with a partner. Tonight's set covered her top two arguments and her most embarrassing moment. Her twenty minutes flew by. Big tick.
After the interval, Fern opened by explaining why she wanted to do crowd work like every other comedian—to boost their Instagram profile - but she couldn't because, being autistic, she couldn't handle the randomness of audience interaction. Her Bathgate accent is thick but manageable if I concentrate.
Her set included discussing her use of Botox, how her Scottish low esteem sabotaged her attempt to crack Hollywood, and how her Scottish sensibility insisted she down a forgotten thousand milligrams of MDMA before a flight rather than throw it away. Her Bake Off material rose well, relating her frustrations at not being allowed to bake due to the hosts' chattiness and her awkwardness talking to the camera about the cancer charity (inconveniently, none of her family had had cancer; instead, they'd been killed by proper Scottish diseases).
Once her hour was up, Fern thanked us and left the stage. It was unlikely we'd see her at a merch stall (there wasn't one), so we headed home.
My wife did enjoy the show, much to my surprise. I found Fern a breath of fresh air - a quality hour of Scottish standup.
Pleased that I'd managed to retain all involuntary gas movement, I suffered from a stomach ache all the way home. Standing in the back garden, I set them all free just as the sirens of multiple emergency vehicles erupted, heading up the main road. You can always trust Paisley to kick off a Friday night rammy when one of their own needs to hide the sound of his farting. The smell, well, that's just Paisley all over.
Ticket Price: 2 x £26 plus £3.95 Transaction Fee = £55.95 from ATG Tickets.
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