I didn't fancy a night with Marti Pellow at the Kelvingrove Bandstand, despite being my wife and mother-in-law's chauffeur to and from the event. To kill time, rather than go home and return later, I thought I'd pay The Stand a visit, even though I didn't know who was on the bill (they don't publicise the Thursday lineup, referring to it as 'subject to change'). The comedy night would be far cheaper than a ticket to Marti (£75 after fees) or even a trip to the cinema. Normal Thursday night price is £11 inc booking fee, but as I'm a member I get in for £6.
Then I get an email from The Stand informing me the show would now finish at 10:10 pm, not 9:30 pm, as advertised, because they'd added a special guest to the bill. They'd happily refund me if this time change was not suitable. The later time actually suited me better as Marti wouldn't finish till 10:30 pm. I didn't see the social media post about the "Incredible secret special guest" until after the show.
After dropping off the pair on Sauchiehall Street, I drove over to Great Western Road, found a free space on a side street and headed to the venue. There was no indication on the board outside who was performing.
As I walk into the bar, the staff announce the doors are open, but it turns out to be a reminder as the room is already half full. The curtain is pulled over behind the back bench, so I'm not expecting a capacity crowd. I sit near the door at the back.
I buy an Irn Bru, see the socials board next to the bar and work out tonight's comedians are: Liam Farrelly, Chris Thorburn, Sinead Walsh and Ray Bradshaw. I spend the rest of my time people-watching, reading from my Kindle app, and scrolling through social media waiting for the show to start. Another lone attendee sits beside me. The room fills up so much that the staff open up the rear of the room.
Liam Farrelly is our MC for the evening. The Paisley comic does a great job getting to know the crowd, while integrating his material into the chat. His thick accent can mostly be understood by the international visitors. Dave is from Australia, though he sounds Scottish because he emigrated there thirty years ago. He was a chef in the merchant navy and is back to see his granddaughter, who is also present. She is studying commerce at Glasgow Uni, but hopes to study Business Law next.
A Lidl carrier bag sits on the stage platform. Liam tells the women who left it there to remove it, but not before he has a look inside. It contains a birthday cake and a knife, which is the best way to carry a weapon in Glasgow. It turns out the middle lady is 55 today. She is currently unemployed but has just produced a short film and is about to start work on the Batman film next week. She'll be on crowd control, she explains, a glorified security guard. Liam's still impressed.
So is Chris Thornburn, our first act. He studied film, and he engages with the birthday girl, using the conversation to transition into his movie material. He's also testing some new material, and it shows a little; his flow is slightly off, but still a solid performance with lots of laughs.
I don't find Sinead Walsh as funny. I've not encountered her before, an Irish lesbian who might pass for a boy, if it weren't for her boobs. Her set plays with examples of this ambiguous gender, such as at the airport, where the male and female security personnel can't decide which of them should frisk her. The routine about being told by her mother that she should be more like her brother pays off as you'd expect (she too drinks and shags women). I'm not sure if I'm witnessing an inexperienced comic or a nervous one, as she doesn't always commit to the material. Or it could be I'm not her demographic.
After the first interval, Liam discovers the man in the front row, Roddie, is also fifty-five today. He's a PE teacher at Paisley Grammar and is here with his daughter, who works in the Coop.
After a bit of chat, Liam then advises us to keep our phones in our pockets and be in the room for the next act, superstar comedian Kevin Bridges. The room erupts with cheers and clapping.
Kevin is working up some material for his next tour and brings his notes with him. This is his debut at the new venue, and it takes him a while to settle, not entirely happy with the volume of his microphone, still feeling his way around the space. When he hits his stride, though, he is phenomenal. He does thirty-five minutes before the second interval. The crowd loved him, especially getting to see him for such a low ticket price.
Headliner Ray Bradshaw jokes that Kevin was only supposed to do ten minutes, so we got good value. I didn't think this was true, given they'd extended the show time by forty minutes, but it got a laugh. He explained that when the Stand phoned to inform him they'd pushed back his slot to accommodate a special guest, they didn't tell him who it was. He reckoned it would either be Kevin or possibly Frankie Boyle. When he arrived at the venue and saw the Porsche outside, he knew it wasn't Frankie.
Liam had earlier identified a Texan brother and sister in the front row, with the girl working in an outdoor nursery in Maryhill. Ray knew of this place, as one of his footballing buddies sent his son there. There was an issue, though: the boy was being bullied by another lad who kept biting him. The nursery teacher laughed and said she knew who that was. Small world.
Ray's set is a mishmash of old and new material, all of it effortlessly funny. He is always good value. The story of his deaf dad and uncle working out which house in Sandhead his deaf aunt lived in was especially funny as we'd stayed in that village earlier this year and I could picture the scene exactly.
At the very end, Liam invited a young girl in a wheelchair onto the stage. She had a question to ask a special someone in her life. Her partner, also skinny, young and pierced, was invited to join her, whereupon the wheelchair girl got down on both knees and produced a ring. We couldn't hear the response as neither remembered to use the microphone. The pair got emotional and hugged each other. It took an intervention from Liam, taking back the mic, to let us know she'd said Yes. They were awarded the pair of tickets to another show, rather than it being drawn randomly from a hat.
I returned to collect my wife and mother-in-law, extremely pleased with my night. They had had a good time too.
It's amazing to think that what had been intended as just something to do turned into such a special evening. And all for six quid. Good on The Stand. Get out there, folks. You never know how good it will be.
Ticket Price: £5 (member price) & £1 Booking Fee = £6 from The Stand website.
