Russell Kane "Hyperactive", King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 30th March 2025

I have never seen Russell Kane live before (or any of the comedy Russells, for that matter), but I knew he was good. I didn't realise just how good. 

His support act was a pleasant surprise: local boy Liam Farrelly (local as in Paisley). This twenty-five-year-old crafted a clever set about gerbils, accents, spider swastikas and graffiti on his house about a slut called Jenny. I've never seen a relatively unknown support comedian command the stage and win over the audience so quickly. His material was brilliant. 

Russell was on another level, however. So much of the early set appeared improvised, chucking in local references knowingly and appropriately, building the laughs as he strutted from side to side, weaving in audience work to make his points, his mind operating as fast as he was moving, notably only slowing down when he crouched or lay on the stage. His regional accent work was impeccable, his physicality impressive, and his material was thoughtful and astute (under 28s don't go to comedy gigs because they get too easily triggered; mobile phones are killing memory and attention spans and shoving bad messaging down our throats; we should live for the moment, not tomorrow, because we only have today). He spoke with passion and humour, and not a single gag missed. He was like an Essex Robin Williams, only less dead. He shared the same pace, wit, and messaging as that genius comedian. 

He gave us seventy minutes because he knew that was all we could take. We gave him a well-deserved standing ovation. Thank you, Russell Kane, best of the Russells.

The journey home afterwards was an experience, too. Walking down Hope Street, heading for Central Station, I saw an inebriated blonde woman dressed all in green battering at a hackney cab's driver's window, demanding to be given a lift. In her hand, she clutched a shopping bag, so it too struck the driver's window. Her language was barely intelligible, so I couldn't tell where she wanted to go. Waiting at the junction only because the traffic lights were at red, the male driver didn't let her in, fobbing her off with some excuse I couldn't lipread. A police van pulled up behind him. The lights changed to green. The cab moved off, but she refused to accept this. She clung to his door, lasting five yards before her bag went flying, and she tumbled across the road, doing more spins than an Olympic diver. The cab continued on its way, and, eventually, the policeman got out of his van, the woman still on the ground, now an obstacle to traffic. He spoke to her, then messaged someone on his radio, likely for an ambulance. So, ultimately, she would get a lift, just not home. Either she was going to hospital or to a police cell. I didn't wait to see the outcome. I had a train to catch, where three drunk multi-generational women serenaded the entire carriage in whatever key they could achieve, regardless of whether they knew the lyrics or not. But that's another story.     

Ticket Price: 1 Artist Presale Ticket £31.75
Per Item Fees: (Service Charge Artist Presale Ticket) £3.50
Order Processing Fees Handling Fee £2.95
Total £38.20 from Ticketmaster

GICF Comedy Gala 2025. King's Theatre Glasgow. Sunday 30th March, 2025

The great thing about the GICF Comedy Gala is that it exposes you to comedians you wouldn't normally see. Each of the hand-picked comedians gets five minutes to show off their talents in a sampler of their work. And boy, what a feast it was.

On hosting duties was last year's recipient of the Billy Connolly Spirit of Glasgow award, Susie Mccabe. First up was Zoe Lyons, who was probably the most famous act on the bill. She was followed by Chris Thorburn, Viv Gee, Ayo Adenekan and Kim Blythe. Rounding off the first half with a beat-heavy, blistering impromptu rap involving objects from the pockets of the first two rows was MC Hammersmith. He was my favourite from this group. 

At this point, the event organisers surprised Viv Gee with a special one-off award issued by the Lord Provost of Glasgow in recognition of outstanding Glaswegians during its 850th year. She received a bespoke trophy (a plate) in recognition of her extraordinary contribution to the comedy community in Glasgow. 

After the interval, Susie introduced Kate Hammer, Stephen Buchanan, Alana Jackson and Connor Burns before finishing off the comedy with a set of her own. Connor was my fave from this half, even though I'd heard him deliver the material only a few weeks ago.

Then, all that remained was for Festival Director Krista MacDonald and Elaine C Smith to announce who had won this year's Billy Connolly award.  2025’s Shortlist included Craig Hill, Kim Blythe, Marjolein Robertson, Paul Black, Rosco McClelland, Scott Agnew and Viv Gee. I was surprised that only two of the acts performed, although my wife noticed Paul Black appearing from backstage at the interval. I wonder how many of the others were present to hear Rosco McClelland win the award. He seemed flabbergasted to have won, finding it difficult to express how much it meant to him to have Billy Connolly, his comedy hero, pick him. 

A friend and former colleague was also in the crowd. We both agreed it was a great afternoon and hoped to attend again next year. It's a great way to celebrate comedy in Glasgow.

Ticket Price: £24.10 x 2 plus £3.95 Transacton Fee from ATG Tickets. 

Richard Herring "Can I Have My Ball Back?" Stand Up Tour. The Stand, Glasgow. Friday 28th March 2025

My wife puts up with a lot. Dragging her along to a standup comedy about testicular cancer wouldn't normally be her cup of teabagging, but she knew Richard Herring was funny so agreed to attend.

Doors opened at 6pm, so taking the car wasn't an option without paying through the nose to park (on-street parking is £1 for 15 mins up to 10 pm). The plan was to drive to Ibrox, get the subway to Kelvinbridge, and then walk to the venue. I figured half an hour for the drive, 20 minutes for the subway, and five for the walk. We left at 5 o'clock (pm, obviously). Either I was lucky, or I'd overestimated my timings. We got there at 5.40 pm. There was only one person waiting, so we didn't join the queue but rather initiated it. The cold stare from my wife mimicked the windchill as a rain shower dampened her enthusiasm. 

I was happy, though, to be second in the queue, later third when the woman's partner arrived. The seats I preferred on the balcony had been reserved, so we sat close by in the same row. Sorted. I bought my wife a red wine. She was happy that it came in a proper glass.

We had an hour to kill before the show started. I noticed the songs being played all had a common theme. Richard must have searched Spotify (other music streamers are available) for any song containing the word "Balls". We got Chef from South Park's "Salty Chocolate Balls", Pulp's "Can I Have My Balls Back, Please?", "Bouncing Balls" by The Wiggles, "Big Balls" and  "She's Got Balls" by ACDC, among a myriad of other ball-related tracks. Talk about setting a tone.

I passed the time reading the programme, which could be downloaded via a QR code. That's a clever, money-saving technique for adding value to the show. I'm sure after the tour, he'll make it available on his website, www.RichardHerring.com. 

The show itself was much as expected. I've listened to (and attended) his RHLSTP podcast often enough to understand his sense of humour. There were lots of jokes and silliness (such as a spot of ventriloquism with his talking bollock) as he raced through his timeline, from his initial awareness of the testicular swelling through all the different stages of diagnosis to its eventual removal and post-treatment therapy. The heart of the show shone through his love for his family, despite his evil witch of a daughter randomly predicting he would die in fourteen months, long before the cancer diagnosis (she was four at the time). The pictures of him falling into lava and being eaten by a crocodile were amusing.

One shock I had during the show was when he leaned to one side and said a line, addressing the audience on his right. Then he leaned to his left and said the line again for the other side, before repeating the process for comic effect—a play straight out of Stewart Lee's book. Sacrilege or taking the piss? Regardless, it was still funny, just out of character for Richard.  

After the show, Richard remained in the corridor to sign autographs, sell merch, and pose for selfies. We didn't wait. Given the length of that queue, I sensed that would be pushing my wife too far. She enjoyed the show but wanted to get home.

The Subway ride back to the car reminded me of being at the Transport Museum, only with real people instead of video passengers. We sat at the end of a carriage near the rubber connectors. A tannoy message said to report anything suspicious to the staff. I said I'd have to report my wife because she'd been nice to me, and that qualified as suspicious. I got that look—the eyes tightened—that said 'ha ha', but not in a funny way. She did laugh after I banged my head against the carriage wall, the unexpected turbulent rocking motion catching me unaware.  

It was a good night with only minor concussion. I was still able to drive home.

Ticket Price: £44.60 for two (including £1.60 booking fee) directly from The Stand.

Deacon Blue , Live Acoustic Show with Q&A, Oran Mor Auditorium, Glasgow (late show). Wednesday 26th March, 2025

What a beautiful evening!

Okay, the drive along Byres Road was interminable, but I managed to find a parking bay close to the venue and parallel parked perfectly on the first go. Outside, while I got jostled by the chatty pre-pensioners behind me, I messaged a new acquaintance to pass the time. Turns out both our diaries are busy for a while. 

Inside, I found a spot near the front behind a smaller lady. Then I noticed her other half was an old school mate who enjoys his gigs as much as I do. We had a great catch-up while waiting for the band. It then turned out the lady on my left, who was eavesdropping on our conversation, was a Boots pharmacist from Stewarton. I didn't know her, but such are the coincidences of life, even at such a small, intimate gig.

Ricky and James opened the set with a stripped-down version of Dignity before welcoming the rest of the band. The room was packed, the atmosphere warm, and the sound divine. Ricky's introduction to the next song was class: "It's nice to be able to play The Great Western Road on Great Western Road." As always, Lorraine's vocals complemented Ricky's voice beautifully. 

Ricky's intro to "How We Remember It" talked about the circus and carnival coming to town when he was a young lad and how his strait-laced father refused to take him on the flying rockets, instead paying a stranger, who looked like an Alvin Stardust wannabe, to sit with him on the ride. Ricky reflected on his desire to run away with the circus, travelling from place to place, realising all these years later that his dream did come true.

Lorraine sang lead vocals on the next tune, "Cover From The Sky." Then, they played one of the more upbeat numbers, "Late '88," from the new album before finishing on a crowd favourite, "Real Gone Kid."

The venue suited the event. A former church with great acoustics, it felt special to be in attendance, even though they only played for half an hour before answering questions during the Q&A for a further thirty minutes. I loved every minute of it so much that I never bothered to film any of it. It was nice just being in the moment (okay, I did take some snaps).

Not bad for £22, including a signed Assai Exclusive Sleeve CD. 

Setlist     

How far I was from the tower entrance

The queue behind went on for quite a distance
(That's the top of my head, not an Easter egg)

Ricky and James

Bassist Lewis Gordon is hiding behind Ricky

Lorraine didn't wait during the end applause

Q&A

 

Marc Jennings, "Marc'sism", GICF, St Luke's, Glasgow. Monday 24th March 2025.

Before the gig, we went for dinner at the Winged Ox part of the venue, having booked a table in advance. The food was very good and not overly expensive. No desserts, though, so my wife and I had to kill time with conversation, additional drinks and much-needed trips to the loo.

With fifteen minutes before the doors were due to open, we made our way outside to find no queue. There were a few people hanging about the inside door, so we waited there. Slowly, the corridor filled to the point that no one else could enter. It was then that a rather sniffy steward informed us we should be queuing outside. Everyone decanted to join the four already there. It was no biggie, but perhaps an information sign or a team member could have sorted this out earlier. We still got good seats in the fourth row with an excellent sightline to the comedian. 

Monday nights are rarely good for comedy. The energy of the crowd can be low, so it needs a comedian at the top of their craft to make it work. I'd only ever seen Marc perform short routines online, so I was looking forward to seeing how good he was live. 

First up was Susan Riddell in the support slot. She peddled her familiar twenty-minute set about dating apps and relationships. She did well despite the audience's seeming muted reaction. It was funny when she couldn't find the exit door from the stage after her set. 

Headliner Marc, a Scottish comedian from Clydebank, has grown a large enough following to sell out the venue and add a second date at Blackfriars for the end of the Festival. He's also done well enough to have to pay tax on his earnings for the first time last year, he admits. He also comments on it being a Monday but hopes we still have a good time.

He was okay. There were no barnstorming routines, just funny jokes and observations, with perhaps a little too much reliance on the comic analogy. He covered topics like his desire to get on the property ladder, some bits on politics (with a nice Nicola Sturgeon joke), and some material about his family and what it means to be a man in today's society. Nothing overly deep, but still funny. 

Perhaps not his finest hour, but it was a Monday.

Ticket Price: £12.50 x 2
Service Fee £5.12
Delivery Fee £2.00
Total Payment £32.12 from TicketWeb.

Those Damn Crows "March Tour 2025", La Belle Angele, Edinburgh. Saturday 22nd March 2025

I love the Crows, as do some of my friends, so when they announced this tour, with one date in Scotland, we booked our tickets and prepared to travel to Edinburgh.    

I drove us through midafternoon, electing to make a pitstop at the Frankie and Bennys at Fort Kinnaird for dinner (free parking, dining options and a short drive to the venue to snag on-street parking afterwards before the city got too busy). The weather was mostly dry on the way in, bar a couple of stretches on the M8 where the heavens opened and road spray reduced visibility drastically. It was uncomfortably wet, though, by the time we arrived at the Pleasance in Edinburgh's old town around the corner from the gig.

I headed straight to the venue while my mates detoured to Bannermans for a swift one and a toilet stop. At 6:25 p.m., the queue was already snaking down and back up the covered area outside the doors for the 7 p.m. open. Unfortunately, my spot in the queue was under the one section where there was an opening between the protective, sloped tarpaulin and the roof of the building. I caught a lot of drips as I waited, which was very annoying, as I'd decided not to wear my cap tonight. 

At 6.45 p.m., they let us in. No sign of my mates, so I messaged them to alert them to the early opening. Inside, I made my way down to the front, finding a spot behind two smaller ladies. This gave me a perfect view of the singer's microphone stand. Of course, it didn't stay that way. It never does.

(Warning: the following section contains rude words. If you are likely to be offended, stop reading now)

Then before the support act has come on, a concert cunt landed beside me, trying to gain the forward advantage with his elbow. Shaven-headed with a goatee, this young, bespectacled lad had no concept of personal space, pressing his side against mine and standing so close to the person in front that the gentleman could feel his breath on his neck. Of course, the cunt was drinking, a pint tumbler in his hand, without the space to drink it properly.

Throughout the support act, the cunt kept trying to edge in front of me, but I wasn't having it. I stood my ground. I let the music move my body to keep pushing him away. The band were good, even though it looked like they were being led by a bare-chested schoolboy with a premature receding hairline. I enjoyed their music and their technical skill and even warmed to the frontman by the end of their set.

At the interval, the concert cunt fucked off, much to my relief. Unfortunately, so did the small woman in front of me. The height dynamic shifted as her tall friend shifted over to claim the space (and my view line). Then the cunt barged back again, this time wearing his massive jacket, announcing to no one who cared that he didn't think he'd make it back after going for a piss. I give him a cold stare. He justifies himself with a "What? I was standing here before." I replied, "I know. I felt you." The man in front of him nodded in agreement. The cunt didn't care. He took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, then checked his blood sugars on his phone. I began to think horrible thoughts about the youth's demise but remembered I needed to drive my mates home after the gig, which would be difficult from a police cell. Plus, I'd miss the show.

I buckled down, determined to stop the cunt from ruining my enjoyment. 

The Crows put on a great performance. I managed to get a Hi Two from Shane (his other three fingers were holding the mic) during one song, and I lost him entirely on the one video I took when he jumped into the crowd and ended up singing from atop the bar at the back of the hall. There were no variations to the tour setlist for this show, but the energy from the band still made it special. The crowd sang so loudly it hurt my ears despite wearing ear protectors. 

After the show, at the very end, the guitarist flicked his plectrum into the crowd near me. I didn't spot where it landed, so I shone my torch on the floor. Of course, the concert cunt got there first. He was crouched down straight away like Gollum after his Precious. By this time, I didn't care. He'd put in the effort. I just wished him an early death, either by something slow, pustulating and painful or a backstreet stabbing. Either would do. One less cunt in the world. 

The ten o'clock finish meant an earlier, and much-welcomed, return home before midnight. Thanks to wet road conditions and poor lighting, I only nearly drove on the wrong side of the road once. 

Setlist
Let's Go Psycho!
Man on Fire
Find a Way
Kingdom of Dust
Blink of an Eye
No Surrender
Glass Heart
Dreaming
Who Did It
Sin on Skin
Go Get It
This Time I'm Ready
See You Again
Rock 'n' Roll Ain't Dead!

Blink of an Eye

Ticket price: From Ticketmaster
3 Artist Presale Ticket  £22.50 x3 = £67.50
Per Item Fees £2.85 (Service Charge Artist Presale Ticket) x3 = £8.55

Order Processing Fees Handling Fee (£1.50) £1.50
Delivery Charge £2.00
Total £79.55 

James Bruner

Concert Cunt did eventually get ahead of me