Josie Long "Now is the Time of Monsters", The Stand, Glasgow. Thursday 11th September, 2025

Tonight I was excited because this was my first visit to the new Glasgow Stand. I loved the old venue. I have many fond memories of the time I spent there. It wasn't perfect: the stage was small, some viewing angles were questionable, and if you didn't arrive early enough, you could end up standing for the entire night. The atmosphere in the room, though, was intimate and electric. Everything about it was designed for comedy. The ceiling was low, the sound was crystal clear, and the bar even closed during the comedian's sets. The new place had big boots to fill.

We braved the new roadwork restrictions on the M8 to drive in, aiming to park at the Kelvinbridge Subway Park and Ride. I've never used it before (at the old venue, I'd always found somewhere free to park, even if it meant a bit of a walk), but given the likelihood of heavy showers, I decided this time to pay. Plus, my wife gets irritated if we end up miles from the venue.

We arrived at 7pm when the doors were due to open. I was disappointed that the chalkboard outside the venue displayed generic information about the venue rather than advertising tonight's show. It always felt more personal when they made the effort to promote the night's show in that way.  

Nothing about Josie's show on this side of the board.

Or on the other side, either.

The house wasn't ready, so we had to wait in the tiny, narrow bar where all the seats were already taken. Yep, while we waited, we had to stand at the Stand. There was nowhere appropriate to queue, so we bought some drinks and hovered against the old church doors, trying not to get in the way of the other people waiting at the bar.  We watched group after group arrive, winding their way through the crowd, then disappearing through the back, only to reappear a minute later looking sheepish. Thirty minutes later, a staff member announced that the house doors were now open. 

The bar

The room felt spacious with a high ceiling, sitting just above the level of the curtained-off balcony, which was not in use. The familiar round tables from the old Stand had been set up in front of the wide stage, taking up about half of the seating area. Behind that sat row upon row of chairs, with bench-style padded seating at the very back. There was another small bar located opposite the doors. The sightlines to the raised stage were good. Josie's backdrop seemed huge. The old place wouldn't have had the height to accommodate it. We sat in the middle of the first row behind the tables.

In the corridor, finally queuing to get in.

The view of the stage from our seats

I visited the loo before the room got too busy. They still smelled of paint, and the advertising frames were bare. Even though the place has been open for less than a week, there was already graffiti on the back of the door. 

Josie did twenty-five minutes in the first half, setting us up for her proper show after the interval. A party of Americans in the front row distracted her by talking when she came on. Despite it not being her vibe, she shut them down, making it clear this wasn't a conversation. Then she talked to them, explaining that this preamble wasn't the show. That would start after the interval and would last seventy minutes, sixty-eight if we were good. This bit was just her playing, serving up her thoughts and some prepared material, having fun, letting us know who she is, in case we didn't know.

The show's title is taken from a quote by Italian Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci, written while he was imprisoned by Mussolini's fascist regime in the 1930s. Gramsci had observed that the established ruling order was losing its capacity to lead, and the masses were drifting away from traditional ideologies. Portentous or what!

This she tied in with actual monsters, prehistoric ones that looked completely different to how we'd imagined them, not just because of her poor artwork. Then she threaded in some political thoughts about today's monsters, those in power who don't stand up for their beliefs or worse, allow others to dictate the agenda. Over the course of the show, she revealed she'd split from her partner and father of her two kids, confessing that she felt like the monster, the one who'd destroyed her children's lives by falling out of love with their father. 

While this was the overarching theme, the set did include some playful material and concluded on an upbeat note about choosing how we view the future. All in all, another typical Josie Long show: Lefty, but optimistic.

Yet I felt it didn't land. Laughter erupted in pockets, rather than rolling across the audience. A few superfans cheered and clapped disproportionately loudly, creating an odd atmosphere where it appeared the jokes were operating on a level I didn't understand. Maybe it was the room dynamics that interfered with the mirth. Whereas at the old Stand, the comedian was pretty much rooted to the spot, this stage was wide, so Josie had to race from side to side, expounding her material. Maybe I'm just lamenting the loss of the old venue. Regardless, we left feeling underwhelmed. 

Then there was the car park fiasco...

The only pay machine I could see was at the exit barrier, implying you pay as you leave. I rolled up to the barrier, ticket and credit card in hand, lowered the window and stretched out to insert the ticket. Only it was dark and parts of the machine were in shadow, so I couldn't see exactly where to put it. I must have found the right place because the machine was now waiting for payment. I tapped my credit card against the contactless panel and... nothing happened. I then noticed the tiny digital display now read Insert Card. I loosened my seatbelt so I could put my credit card into the slot and then tried to enter my PIN number, only it was too dark to see the numbers, so my first attempt was incorrect and was declined. I'd missed that there was another row of buttons at the top. I couldn't reach them from inside the car, though, so I had to unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the vehicle. Illuminating the panel with my phone's torch, my second attempt at typing in my PIN worked. Immediately, the barrier lifted, leaving me flustered outside the car with my torch light still on, my credit card, wallet, phone and ticket still in my hand. I jumped back in the car and drove through, then stopped to sort myself out. Thankfully, there was no one behind me to witness such a rigmarole. 

The drive home was just as uncomfortable, with my sat nav telling me to avoid the M8, then a taxi driver racing to undertake me on Canal Street before slamming on his brakes as he pulled in front of me, the traffic in front of him observing the speed limit. It felt strange to return from a comedy gig feeling more stressed than when I left. 

Ticket Price: 2 x £22 plus £1.60 booking fee = £45.60 from The Stand.