John Bishop, "Back At It" Tour, Paisley Town Hall, Paisley. Wednesday 18th September, 2024

This was my first visit to the Town Hall since its makeover. I didn't know what to expect. Space-age holograms? Virtual ushers? Levitating walkways? Nah, none of that.

Our tickets were for the balcony. A staff member inside the entrance directed us to go through a set of double doors and then take the stairs on the left to the top. As we ascended, the air had that fresh carpet smell, the tread underfoot soft and luxurious. Arriving at the first floor, the Gallery level, we were instructed to turn around and continue up. Another flight of stairs brought us to a silent area empty of people. It felt almost forbidden, like we'd climbed too far and were now one door away from finding ourselves outside on the roof. Then, a young gentleman in a OneRen T-shirt appeared, examined our tickets and told us where to sit - in the very back row.

When I purchased the tickets, I hadn't even realised the Town Hall had two tiers or that our seats would be the absolute furthest from the stage, so I was slightly disappointed. The view was ever-so-slightly restricted thanks to a lighting rig obscuring the upper part of the big screen on the stage.   

Thankfully, this got raised to the level of the others prior to the show beginning, but that didn't change the fact that we were so far from the stage. The temperature on the Balcony was sub-tropical, with various patrons fanning themselves furiously with their paper tickets to cool down. At least the seats were comfy. 

I was tired and occasionally found myself resting my chin on my hand as John, without a support act, did some crowd work sprinkled with anecdotes in the first half. I had a little difficulty making out what he was saying, partly due to his jowly Scouse accent and partly due to the hall sound. 

It didn't get better in the second half, though his prepared material did. Discussing his case of 'The Manopause', he acknowledged he'd been feeling out of sorts until a gynaecologist (long story) put him on testosterone. This, and forgetting Tommo, a childhood friend, during a random encounter with them, inspired him to complete the bucket list he'd written when he was seven. 

We hear how he managed to achieve most of them, including killing a Dalek and shooting a laser gun. My pedantic brain would not let me enjoy this bit. Nick (Briggs) isn't seventy and hasn't been doing the Dalek voices for over forty years (or so I thought at the time - he's been doing them on TV since 2005 and with Big Finish since 1996, but I'd forgotten about the Audio Visuals that started in the late '80s). Anyway, at the time, these inaccuracies quashed the comedy for me. 

His dilemma over whether to accept Sir Ian McKellen's personal request to appear with him in pantomime was funny. It could also have been interpreted as an attempt by Gandalf to groom the comic into snogging nightly for one hundred shows (semis optional). But that's theatre for you, darling.

A couple of pointless heckles irritated me. Someone shouting out 'Huw Edwards' while John was discussing Hugh Bonneville just seemed moronic, as John pointed out. He'd been discussing genetic Englishness, and Edwards is Welsh. Maybe the individual got triggered by the two sharing a similar-sounding first name. Fortunately, the heckles were few and far between, perhaps because John couldn't make out what was being said.    

The people I was with thoroughly enjoyed the show. I found it a bit shabby, a bit like his stage outfit. Maybe he's still perfecting his routines because it didn't feel like a polished, finished product. Or maybe my next expensive purchase should be a pair of luxury hearing aids to combat my own version of the manopause. 

Ticket Price: Ticketmaster

4 Full Price Ticket £32.50 x4 = £130.00 

Per Item Fees £3.25 (Service Charge Full Price Ticket) x4 £13.00 

Order Processing Fees 

Handling Fee £2.50 

Total £145.50 

John Bishop, "Right Here, Right Now" Tour, OVO Hydro, Glasgow. Saturday 19th February, 2022

It's not often I go to a comedy gig and am more amused by the audience than the comedian. And when I say the audience I mean the couple sat beside me. Not that John or his support act, Ray Bradshaw, were unfunny. Their material was a bit over-familiar but it still ticked the comedy boxes. It's just that the performance of the two beside me eclipsed that of the main man.

They arrived sharing the easy familiarity of two people who were obviously a couple, each clutching two half-pint tumblers of some coloured alcoholic liquid (I don't know what), I was sitting at the end of a row so got up to let them in. She was bulging out of a needlessly lowcut dress. I say needless because she'd already pulled so why did she feel the need to distract him from her face, behaviour and personality? It may even have fitted her once. He was in smart casual clothing, in no need to impress, and had the kind of tufty haircut that won't be necessary in a few years time once his male-pattern baldness catches up with the rest of his head.  

They settle down with their drinks and she pulls out her phone for the obligatory selfies. Then she Whatsapps a message to someone, her fingers lightning-fast, producing swathes of emojis in each sentence like they were an integral element of the English language. By now, the lights are down and John's on stage, sitting on a chair. His material is mostly about relationships and ageing and it seems apt for him to be sitting. Still, she types away, the glow of her screen muted due to a dark background. Eventually, she puts the phone away and plays catch up with her laughs, exaggerating how funny she finds John between sips of her drink. 

Then he needs the toilet. We both have to get up to let him out and again afterwards to let him back in. Then she needs the toilet. Lots of apologies directed at me as I have to rise again.

Later in the show, I notice her wriggling in her seat. She's pulling uncomfortable faces then wraps the bag strap around her tiny purse and leans across to apologise again, her words ever so slightly slurring. This time I twist round rather than stand up. 

As she staggers back, her heels higher than her head can cope with, her partner has to shout to remind her where her seat is. She isn't wearing the jacket she left with. I remain silent on the matter. None of my business. She flops back down into the seat.

The man, slightly inebriated, begins to repeat John's punchlines after he's told them. She, with surprise, giggles, "Is that what he said?" and laughs hysterically. He takes a picture on his phone of John on stage, forgetting to switch off the flash then checks how it turned out. No having to go to the chemist to get it developed, these days, as John might have remarked. 

Then she gets the drunken hiccups.

I count the Mississippi's. It's every five seconds. It's so loud my wife in the row in front can hear her. The general apologies start, often interrupted by another hiccup. He suggests she hold her nose and breath. They continue to chat like it's an episode of Gogglebox. By this time, I'm only half-listening to John. They both laugh at his material about not knowing how to behave when you're out because it's been so long we've all forgotten. 

The sad thing is they turned an otherwise ordinary night (sorry John) into something memorable. I need to get out more.  

Ticket Price: £47.50 plus £6.40 service charge. Total £53.90 each.