Urzila Carlson, "Just Jokes", (8PM show) The Old Fruitmarket, Glasgow. Sunday 20th October, 2024

I used to think I got ill because of stress at work. It turns out I just have a weak constitution. After three consecutive nights out, I've picked up a lurgy that makes my voice sound like I've been possessed by Beelzebub. But that won't stop me from attending this gig (no cough, no fever, just a voice that could do cinema voiceovers). Nor will Storm Ashley with her 60 mph winds. I think I can counter that with a curry at Koolba, a restaurant opposite the Old Fruitmarket. Tam Cowan is in there too, sampling their fare, including a final glass of red wine for the road, which he didn't drink, possibly believing they would pour it on the cobbles after he left, VAT receipt in hand. 

I had done no research about Urzila prior to attending her gig. I hadn't watched her Netflix special or any of her routines on YouTube. I didn't know if she was a vulgar comic, a musical act, a one-liner or a storyteller. The only facts about her that I knew were that she was from South Africa, now lived in New Zealand and was friends with Melanie Bracewell (a Kiwi comic that I caught this year at the Fringe).

Despite being a sell-out, there were a few gaps in the audience. Perhaps train cancellations were to blame, or maybe those people bottled it, unwilling to witness her vulgarity in person. For example, she describes her job as saying 'Cunt' to people sitting in the dark. Her set includes an extended bit about her recent Amy Schumer film experience where they wanted her to have grey hair (spoiler: her hair won't colour!). She also talked about the task she did on the NZ Taskmaster, which won her the accolade of being the only contestant to break a bone during a task. She's a lesbian, but she would willingly give up the lady flaps if she married a male lottery billionaire. In return for allowing her to retire, she'd promise him three blowjobs a day (she obviously wouldn't do the task herself (cue gag reflex) - she'd outsource it to a young homosexual boy as they know how to give the best BJs).

Bizarrely, her smoothed South African accent and her laugh remind me of Belinda Bauer, the crime author. Not that Belinda would go into extended detail about her attempts to shave her lady parts using a mirror and a Boots-bought, two-blade Bic razor to impress a new partner. I imagine she would keep that private. 

An interpreter for the deaf joined Urzila on stage for the entire show ("Because it's important"). For once, the comedian does not draw humour from having the interpreter sign the rude bits. She's largely ignored, except when Urzila takes a drink of water. At that point, the interpreter drinks, too, creating an almost choreographed mirror image (not that the reflections match).

Urzila is quite the force of nature. She makes no apologies for crossing the line of decency, and the predominantly female audience laps it up. Was I entertained? Undoubtedly. Would I pay to see her again? Maybe not. I don't think I'm her demographic. At least she reminded me that men get breast cancer, too.    

Performance length: 1hr 40 mins.

Ticket Price from Glasgow Life Tickets £17.50 x 2, plus Online Transaction Fee £1.50, plus Booking Fee £4.20 Total (GBP) £40.70