Rhod Gilbert, Kings Theatre, Glasgow. Sun 23rd June 2019

There was a problem with the sound at the beginning (nothing to do with his Welsh accent) but thankfully it was resolved to allow us to hear this great show. The Book of John relates to the snippets of dumbfoundedness spouted by his driver when Rhod wasn't allowed to drive after his stroke.

It was a difficult time for Rhod with his mother dying, his previously-mentioned stroke and being unable to conceive with his partner but thank God for driver John. Without his pearls, we wouldn't have been entertained for two hours (including interval) on topics like frozen prawns, Connect 4, infertility, dyslexia and ADHD/ADD.

This show is belly-laugh funny and beautifully crafted. The Welsh shy boy may have been away from the stand-up scene for eight but he's still got it.

Doug Stanhope, 02 Academy, Glasgow. Fri 8th June 2018

I wasn't on Facebook three years ago the last time Doug played Glasgow, also at the same venue. That night, five separate brawls broke out and a total of nine people were ejected. I witnessed the comedy of the bouncers asking the people sitting in row 2 and 3 to step into the aisle so they could break up the punchup in the centre between the two rows. This was during Doug's bit on the mentally challenged vs the mentally ill.

Tonight's gig was a lot friendlier and he said so. He put it down to our recent, unusually-fine weather.

But was he funny?

Starting by reading his post-show public apology, he moved onto bits about the penalties for insulting the King of Thailand, gang rapes by weak Indian men, #metoo, racism, ageism and closed with dead babies, so I'd say, 'Yes, he was'. In context.

He goes to places we don't want to go (Indiana) and finds the angles to make his material original and challenging, not to make a point (often), just for a laugh. Because he finds it funny. Expression of the night: "ocular bukkake".

Sure, some of the audience laughed a little too hard, like they were using the opportunity to express a deep-rooted phlegm ball. Sure, the crappy narrow seats meant the beast beside me (not you, Louise) invaded my space giving me temporary hip dysplasia. Sure, a bearded man chatted me up by tapping me on the shoulder and remarking how much he liked my T-shirt (see below) - so what, I'm comfortable in my clothes (plus he wasn't chatting me up).

But the important thing was I had fun, surely the point of going to see a comedian.

Katherine Ryan: Glitter Room Tour, Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Thurs 8th Mar 2018.

Ashley Storrie supported. She's a bit like a young hybrid of Kevin Bridges and Sarah Millican and funny with it. Performing at THE Glasgow Pavilion was a big step up for her but she handled it superbly, the only sign of nerves being the regular checking of her watch. The home crowd loved her.

I was disappointed by Katherine. I expected the Acid Queen, displaying a biting wit in the style of Joan Rivers. Instead, she was warm and inclusive, presenting some well-crafted comedy about her life and daughter and some material about her perspective on the world. Her claws were razor-sharp but little used. I had heard some of the lines before from her telly work too, which always takes the shine off.

It wasn't that it wasn't funny. The females in the audience lapped it up like kittens mewing for their mother's teat. In fact, their howls of laughter was a little off-putting due to the disparity in my ears between the laugh delivered and their OTT reaction.

She is sharp, her vocal work outstanding, her call-backs clever but belly laughs were rare for me. It felt tame like she was holding back from the gut-busting laughs she is capable of. Maybe she is just getting tired as the tour is nearly finished. Or more likely she just wasn't for me.

And on those grounds, Sarah Pascoe is still my favourite female comedian.

John Kearns, 'Don't Worry They're Here', The Stand, Glasgow. Mon 29th Jan 2018

The Guardian describes his comedy as "richly idiosyncratic" (on the poster). I'd never seen him before but was interested based on his comic pedigree: two Edinburgh awards (best newcomer and best show).

The initial outlook didn't look good. No queue to get in at 7.35pm. No Mr Big Issue bantering and badgering us to buy his "shite" magazine. Once inside, two sections of the room were curtained off, with chairs and tables stacked to the side to make it smaller, more square. There was no one buying drinks at the bar and only two people sitting at the tables. Obviously not a sellout.

However, the show isn't due to start till 8.30 and slowly the reduced space begins to fill. They eventually set up an extra six chairs on the balcony and a few bar stools at the back wall to accommodate pay-at-the-door guests. It feels cosy.

Support act, Donald Alexander, is from Glasgow. His comedy character is odd. His opener is to do an impression of a man outside a used car dealership. It's very visual, making good use of his lankiness. His material is offbeat. Some of it doesn't work but he's young so plenty of time to grow. He does a good 20 mins.

John Kearns' character, with his monk wig and false teeth, immediately sets a weird, awkward tone. He reveals his world to us so clearly, with specific details, observations and expressions, that laughs are drawn from thin air. It's funny because it feels familiar, even though most of it is probably fictional. It's a rounded character who will never get on top, given the cards life has dealt him, but that doesn't stop him being the man he is, making the most of it. It's bizarre but wonderful.

It's a shame that there were less than a hundred people present.

Jim Jefferies - The Unusual Punishment Tour, SEC Armadillo, Glasgow. Sun 21st Jan 2018

You might think Jim has mellowed now that he's rich and famous, a father and a tv star with his own show in the States. Then he says something so outrageous you forget to breathe for laughing. He has cut down on his misogynistic material but nothing is ever really off limits.

Tonight, a trio of trolls arrive late, having written off their rear wheel drive BMW in the snow. Their seats are in the middle of the third row (not the BMW's - that would have been a really bad crash). I'm sitting nearby in the fourth row (good seat, near the front and unusually in the stalls, as my wife prefers the circle, away from danger). I know about the car incident as hoodie troll number one uninvitedly relates the story to Jim. Then proceeds to believe he's the star of the show and keeps interrupting. Jim closes him down like a Jongleurs' professional, with put down after put down. It is an art form to listen to. Fortunately, it doesn't spoil the show and leads us into two fabulous heckle stories involving a down syndrome man and a lady who'd miscarried six weeks earlier (during a kicking dead babies around in heaven routine).

This kind of material was why I'd try to dissuade my wife from coming. I didn't think it would be her thing. But then my mate got ill and plan B became plan D so she came with me, albeit with as frosty an atmosphere as it was outside.

Time was tight before we left after a longer than expected dog walk in the snow. I didn't change out of my walking boots and heavy coat so we could leave immediately. I thought it would be okay to wear anyway given the conditions. It wasn't until we were in the queue outside the venue that I realised I still had my Nightsearcher Commander torch in my jacket pocket. This is a serious piece of hardware, capable of 1000 lumens, with a solid metal chassis. Not the kind of tool you should be carrying to a comedy gig. There wasn't time to go back to the car.

Worry became panic as we got closer to the door. If I got patted down, they'll definitely feel it in my pocket. I'd have to hand it in. I considered putting it down my pants but then wondered if there was a metal detector beyond the door. How would I explain the beeps when they waved the hand held over my crotch? It's not the kind of area that normally needs illuminating, especially with a thousand lumens. Fortunately, they neither patted me down nor used a metal detector. Security consisted of handbag checks only. Jim Jefferies, you are lucky to be alive. But at least I could have pitched in if a spotlight failed.

Did my wife like the show? No.
Why? It was too cold. 
Now I know why she really prefers to sit in the circle - it's warmer.

I thought he was fantastic. A masterclass in storytelling comedy.

Mark Thomas. ‘TRESPASS’, The Tron Theatre, Wed 13th April 2016

Mark Thomas is a political comedian, an activist, a trouble maker and, most of all, very funny. With an impish demeanour, he can be playful, indignant, raging and serious all in one sentence. Throwaway lines explode like comedic hand grenades. He prowls and parades across the stage, owning the space (an apt metaphor), commanding and demanding our attention for the words he speaks are a gospel of truth designed to open our eyes to the injustices around us (with wank gags: he assures us the political stuff is coming later).

In the first half, the fifty-three-year-old performs as his own support, describing what he was up to last year with his 100 acts of minor dissent. The audience supply him with four random numbers between 1 and 100 and he describes those particular acts from his book of the same name. They encompass things like having three female friends racing a pink remote control car on the pavement outside the Saudi embassy to rearranging the letters on the overhead banner promoting the films playing at the Curzon Cinema to highlight their policy of using zero hour contracts and paying less that the living wage. It was in this half that he notices an audience member lit up by his mobile phone. He then pauses the show to lecture the person about how, having paid for his ticket, he may feel entitled to use his phone but in reality, he was not only putting him off as the performer but he was also being rude to everyone around him who had also paid for their tickets. Such an act of selfishness could only be regarded as that of a Tory, he commented. This serious aside kept the mobiles away for the rest of the performance, a novelty.

In the second half, he starts the show proper. ‘Trespass’ is a show highlighting how our civil freedoms are being eroded by privatisation to such an extent that the very land beneath our feet is being sold off. A public footpath between the Thames and a high rise complex (30% occupied but 100% sold, at a cost from £2.5 million an apartment) has signs erected by the residents saying ‘No Loitering’. Mark takes umbrage with this curtailment of his right to loiter on public land and arranges a tea party with cake to encourage passers-by to stop. Then it escalates to a full-blown fete the following week when the residents complain.

He runs a 5K along the two public edges of the 15 metre triangle outside the RBS London head office to highlight that this former public pavement is now owned by RBS. He then attempts to get the walk recognised as a heritage trail. Just two examples among many that inform the show so I'm not spoiling too much.

The joy in his work is the way he uses absurdity to shed a light on injustice, which in itself can be equally absurd, e.g. Salford Council wished to introduce a swearing ban so he asked them to indicate which from a list of 240 words could he use during his show at the Arts Centre, not wishing to break the law. They replied he could use any of them because his show was art and they did not wish to curtail his freedom of speech. As such, he arranged a choir to sing a song consisting entirely of those swear words outside his show afterwards, a video of which appeared on the Mail Online with almost every word bleeped out (everything apart from ‘cunny’). Hilarious!

He is smart, witty, vulgar, challenging, righteous and preachy but right on the nose. He may be too old to flirt anymore but this audience loved him and his message. His three dates at the Tron are sold out and on the strength of this material, I can understand why.

Doug Stanhope, 02 Academy, Glasgow Fri 2nd Oct 2015

Doug Stanhope, appearing at the O2 Academy in Glasgow on Friday night, was on good form. I've seen him deliver excellent gigs and very poor gigs and tonight was definitely one of his better performances.

His material (both verbal and his stage costume) needed a strong stomach, as he regularly turned political correctness on its head. He knows his audience will go with him across that line in the sand to drink at the oasis beyond bad taste. Or leave. Whatever. He doesn't care. They've already paid. No refunds. I won't share his actual routines because I like my salary.

The show felt like a club gig, despite being held in a concert space with its high ceiling and echoey acoustics; despite the narrow rows of chairs facing the stage instead of tables; and despite there being a noisy balcony. Because the bar stayed open throughout, there was chatter within the auditorium for the whole of the gig. This also meant every inebriated, bearded youth had two reasons to get everyone in their row to stand up and let them out - one to go piss and another to get a refill. Narrows rows and wobbly boys carrying multiple pint pots don't mix well. I noticed one young lad stare incredulously as one pint (of the three he held wedged in both hands) spilled over his vacant seat. He stood for what seemed like ages, wondering how he was going to dry it so he could sit down. This during the gig. With rows and rows of people getting their view blocked as he considered the task ahead. He finally decided just to soak it up with his bum. Wriggle, wriggle. Ahhhh. Just another Friday night in Glasgow.

I loved the gig but hated the audience. There were too many drunken louts having conversations (you don't have to provide a background commentary to your mates: if you find it funny just laugh); or shouting out (not proper heckles, just random nonsense) to impress their also drunk mates. Doug is a time-served comedian capable of handling any audience trouble and tonight he dealt with the interruptions proficiently or just ignored them and continued with his bits. The show lasted nearly two hours, only once having to be halted due to an incident, near the end of his opening 'bit'.

It's the first time I've ever been to a comedy gig where a proper fight broke out, in front of the comedian. One combatant was tall with short brown hair and wore a black leather jacket; the other, sitting in the row in front of him, had a shoulder length perm and was the size of a fridge (which he probably emptied regularly). As the two sluggers wrestled and punched away, the audience lights went up so everyone could watch as their mates attempted to pull the two apart with difficulty, occasionally landing a blow themselves when the other party escaped his mates' bonds and lunged to have another go. As the rows were so narrow, the bouncers had to get the audience to rise to let them past on their way to reach the trouble makers, then ask them all to shuffle out so they could remove the offending party. Permy-hair bloke got to stay and we never did find out what started it.

Doug commented it was the first time his audience had beaten him to a punchline - with an actual punch. He was also able to relate the individual to his now interrupted mental health routine, which won a big cheer and applause.

Doug's comedy may not be classy but it is in a class of its own, just like his audience.