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.

The Big Fab Comedy Show with Larry Dean, St Lukes, Glasgow. Sunday 19th May, 2024

The Gilded Balloon is running a series of these mixed-bill nights up and down the country over the year, but this was the one I wanted to see most. 

When we arrived, the evening was warm and sunny. There was no queue outside the venue, just people sitting on the stone blocks at the perimeter of the square. We found an empty one and settled down to wait. It wasn't too busy. More people arrived, some craftily sitting on the steps outside the front door. Then, at 7 p.m., a security person came out of the bar entrance to tell us the door was open. Not the front door. The side door, the one shared with the bar. 

We formed a disorderly queue and waited to get in. The girl behind me complained to her pal about how long it was taking. Then she mentioned needing to pick up her co-codamol from the chemist at 8.30 the next day, and my ears pricked up. 

The friend replied, "Aye, you've no been weel for ages."

"Aye, uh know. See, yesterday, my throat wiz like broken glass, but that went away, and noo it's aw slimy." She coughed loudly. "Gawd, ah sound like I smoke sixty fags a day." She coughed again, thick and guttural. Almost chewy, you might say.

"You've no been right since you had that sick bug."

"Food poisoning," she corrected. 

I whispered to my wife, "Let's not sit anywhere near them."

The queue took ages to move. Once we entered the building, we could see why. There were two queues: ours and the one from the bar. The security were being highly diligent in their bag searches. One located a gentleman's hip flask, which was set aside. Another refused to let a girl in with her metal water bottle, its contents decanted in a clear pint tumbler before she could have it back. The message: no fluids in the performance space unless purchased from the venue or you're not getting in.

We didn't have bags, so we were waved through after the ticket barcodes were scanned. Inside, half of the seats were already taken. Most of the bar queue must have gotten in first. No worries. We found two seats near the middle and settled in. Smoke hung in the air as if someone had earlier forgotten to switch off the smoke machine. Not so thick that you couldn't see the stage, but enough to make the view hazy.

I had no idea when the show would start, but when my wife asked, I suggested 8 p.m. She was fizzing. "You're telling me it isn't going to start till 8 o'clock? Why did we need to be here at 6.30?"

"Unreserved seating. Look how busy it is already. You don't want to end up with a crap seat with a restricted view."

She pulled that face that told me she couldn't see past the guy in front.

"Do you want to swap seats?" I asked.

"No. I'm fine. So long as you can see."

It turned out the show started at 7.30.

Jay Lafferty did a great job getting us warmed up in her role as compere, getting to know the crowd, explaining the format of the night and setting down the house rules. 

The first act was Josie Long, fresh off the minibus from the South Side, where she now lives. Her voice was more croaky than usual, and she needed to refer to her notes occasionally, but she was still top-class, a mixture of passion and positivity and plenty of fun.

Next up was Sam Lake. I saw him support Ed Gamble, and he used a lot of the same material tonight. It killed even more this time. He ploughs the same catty tropes as other gay comedians, but his writing and delivery are sharp. It won't be long before he breaks through into the mainstream media.

After the break, local act Stephen Buchanan performed his set. I'd never seen him before. I felt he was the weakest act of the night, but only because the others were so good. His material was funny, but the others got bigger laughs. 

Headliner Larry Dean was immense. Oozing oddball charisma, his material shone. It didn't even feel like a set. He was just plucking funny out of the air. I do realise everything about it was scripted, even down to his posture and facial expressions, but at the time, the big laughs rolled through the audience. I'm really looking forward to catching him again later in the year. 

Jay rounded off the night with a story about the consequences of an inappropriate children's party gift and the subsequent parents' WhatsApp group chats. A hilarious tale in the telling, where the punchline wasn't the funniest bit.

We were all done by 10.30.

Having avoided the sixty-fags-a-day cough lady, I got my comeuppance when the bloke on my left spent half the night coughing into his shirt's right elbow. It should have been incinerated afterwards as a potential biohazard. I better not get ill before my holiday.

Ticket Price: £25 (plus fees) from TicketWeb.  

Josie Long: What Now? (Free show recording for Radio 4). The Stand, Glasgow (8pm performance). Sunday 22nd May, 2022

Josie Long has long been on my list of comedians to catch live. Somehow I've never managed to see her. When an advert for this recording taking place in Glasgow popped up on my Facebook feed, I immediately stopped the dog walk to register my interest in attending and, to my pleasant surprise, managed to acquire two tickets.

We found a space on Eldon Street nearby to the venue at 7.15 pm not realising initially that the parking charges apply there between 8am and 10pm Monday through Sunday. I still didn't buy a ticket. It was only a few hours on a Sunday night. What was the worst that could happen? A £60 fine? The show was free so I took the gamble.

We went for a drink in a nearby pub as the doors weren't due to open till 8 pm. While sipping mine, I took a huge bout of queue fever and had to go check how long the line was outside the venue. It was already at the gate so I joined it and gave my wife a running text commentary about what was happening. She remained in the pub, she being the sensible one who'd rather enjoy her wine at an appropriate pace. Dylan Moran (the comedian/actor) arrived and went into the venue then popped back out again as if he'd turned up to the wrong gig. Then the previous show's audience came out (by the hugs and kisses between some of them, not recently) and I got the sweats as the line tightened up. Where was my wife?

It was fine. Despite not seeing my lie that the queue was now moving, she arrived with plenty of time before we got to go in. First, there were wristbands to be handed out, tickets to be scanned and Priority Ticket Holders to be identified and moved to another line. Of course, by the time the VIPs got in, it was raining.

To my joy, my favourite seat on the bench in front of the raised balcony was still free and we had the perfect spot to watch the show - and the audience. 

All the best freaks were here: from the beret-wearing skinny blonde with shoulder-length locks with bubble-gum-pink highlights to the check-shirted blokes with twirly, designer beards and statement spectacles, to the persons of indiscriminate gender with deliberately semi-shaved heads and tattoos that convey their life story from the trauma of birth to their most recent breakup. Josie is such a warm and inclusive character, her audience ticks all the letters: L, G, B, T and Q. Her stand up has the honest passion of Mark Thomas and the huge heart of Mother Teresa and, now she's moved to Glasgow, she proudly swears like a local, which causes her a few problems with retakes as the show was being recorded for early evening Radio 4. 

I have no idea how they'll be able to edit these two performances down to half an hour. This was the second of two shows being recorded tonight, the material overlapping but not identical each time. Our show came to about an hour (including the preamble) and when the light came on to alert her to the thirty-minute mark, she still had another quarter of an hour of material left to deliver. The editing is going to have to be very tight.

One of the best bits of the live experience was hearing the show in its raw, uncensored form. The audience got a massive buzz from hearing her swear knowing she was going to have to repeat the line with a clean version immediately afterwards.  

Afterwards, Josie was so thankful that we had all given up our Sunday night to see her. She was funny and heartfelt and silly and outrageous. It was a great night and another plus - I didn't get a parking ticket.