Alan Davies "Think Ahead", GICF, King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 29th March, 2026

Alan Davies is a national treasure, beloved by many for his 24 years on QI, his lead performance on Jonathan Creek and his many years in stand-up. He has comedy skills, crafted over his sixty years on the planet. Yet, this show is awkward, with sudden gear changes that, without warning, bring shock and silence. He knows this, but hasn't worked out how to talk about the subject matter without it affecting him.

There's no support act or interval, just a straight eighty minutes of Alan. He opens by establishing the audience's general ages, the youngest being in their teens and the oldest in their nineties, and where people are from, one bloke revealing he's from the same place as Alan. It feels like he's warming up, finding his groove, before starting a show he hasn't performed since December. He has a reminder card with the show's running order on a table in case he forgets what's next.

He talks about his kids, about getting a prostate exam, about porn and about erectile dysfunction, wringing out laughs from each slightly hackneyed topic. He explains that in porn, you never hear real conversations, like "Am I squashing you?" He is mock surprised when only one person, a woman, admits to suffering from ED, given the age range in the audience, as statistically fifty per cent of men over fifty suffer from the condition. He posits that perhaps Scottish men with ED hate stand-up comedy and would never set foot in a theatre for fear of being laughed at. Alan uses the little blue pills. He's disappointed if, after taking one, his wife is not in the mood. "But I've taken it now. These things cost a fiver, you know." 

During his porn routine, he says, in real life, men never get to finish on a facial. They might try it once, only to be lambasted by their partner, who complains that it went in their eye and to fetch the eye bath from the medicine cabinet quickly before they get conjunctivitis. Shouldn't that be "cumjunctivitis", I wonder? (my joke, not his).

It's when he opens up about his relationship with his father that the laughs rightly grind to a halt faster than an emergency stop. With nary a warning, other than mentioning that he recently released a memoir, Alan takes us back to when he was ten, explaining his father would visit him at night for 'special cuddles'. He paints us a picture, his dad in the big pants, without going into too much physical detail.  You can see Alan still feels the chest-gripping anxiety as he opens up about it. There is silence in the room. 

He moves on, barely mentioning it again until the end, where he explains why he chose to talk about it and what happened. The denouement is fitting.

I hope Alan found this show cathartic. With the revelation out there, laid to rest, perhaps he can heal and return to being properly funny again.

Ticket Price: £26 x2 + Booking Fee £2.60 x2 + Venue Fee £2 x2 =  Total £61.20 from See Tickets.