Ria Lina "Riabellion", The Stand, Glasgow. Sunday 22nd February, 2026.

A Sunday afternoon show.

As seems to be the norm at The Stand now, the room's doors didn't open at the advertised time. We got there for three, anyway, just in case, and had a drink while we waited. Arriving early at least meant we got a seat in the bar. We joined the queue when it stretched from the corridor into the bar area, and we got in at approximately 3:40 pm for a 4pm start.

The curtain had been pulled across the back of the room, so it wasn't going to be a sellout. We sat at a table near the doors, in case the show overran and we needed to make a quick exit (the show was billed as finishing at 5.40; the last subway was at 6).  

Disapppointingly there was no support act. Fred MacAulay had opened for her in Edinburgh, and he was billed to appear at the Stand's Sunday Service that evening, so I'd hoped he'd be there to give us twenty, but no. Instead, we got extra Ria, which is no bad thing.

In this section, she did the usual, crowdwork mixed in with pre-prepared topical material, mainly about Andrew, the nonce formerly known as Prince. The front row were all foreigners: two Australians, a Lithuanian, a Georgian, and a Dutchman. So much for Brexit, she quipped.

After the fifteen-minute interval, she treated us to her tour show, an hour of outrage and anger directed at the world and her family life, due in part to her being divorced, single, a parent of three and perimenopausal. 

I'd seen the WIP last year and watched the Edinburgh livestream, so I knew most of the material. While I enjoyed Ria's performance, it failed to elevate in the room, possibly due to the smaller audience. Occasional stunned silences were met with incredulity by Ria, who'd expected a bigger laugh. I don't remember these silences being built into the show, even though she had a comeback ready.  

The dance she did as a closer made the point that, as a perimenopausal woman, she didn't care what we thought. I felt it would have worked better if she'd invited others on stage to share in her freedom, making the ending a bigger celebration.    

Her jokes were funny and well-told, but I never fully engaged with the material. Despite making certain bits sciency with talk about the reactions of specific hormones, it still felt like she was playing to half the room. I'd rate the show three stars. 

We nipped away as soon as the show was over, as we didn't have time to meet Ria afterwards (she hadn't brought merch because it would have cost too much to fly it up with her, but she did pose for selfies and had badges to give away). Despite our swift departure, we still missed the last inner line train to Ibrox, so we had to go all the way around on the outer line. This, plus the motorway traffic being a mess, meant we didn't get back till nearly 7 pm. 

Not ideal.

The dogs were starving.

Ticket Price (in advance): £17 x2 + Booking Fee £1.60 = Total £35.60 from The Stand website.

 

Breaking the News Turns 10, BBC Radio Recording, The Stand, Glasgow. Tuesday 23rd September, 2025

 

Host: Des Clarke.

Panellists: 

Stuart Mitchell 

Elaine Malcolmson

Mark Nelson

Jay Lafferty

My second visit to the new Stand in Glasgow, and this time there were surprises. 

The first surprise was that the BBC didn't know ticket validation had been advertised as starting at 11.30 am. They were not ready until their usual time, midday, by which time the queue was massive, stretching way along past the Kelvin Bridge. I leaned against the bridge wall, unaware of the writing on the brickwork, until my wife pointed out that I had chalk all over my jacket. The sun was unseasonably warm and bright. I was pleased when the BBC staffer moved us down the side street, though even that was too short to accommodate us.

In the end, over forty people were turned away, the event way oversubscribed. I suspect the BBC's ticketing department didn't realise The Stand has a lower seating capacity than Drygate. They certainly didn't comprehend that the Stand has a tiny footprint for waiting. We squeezed into a corner near the door so we could hear when they called out the numbers for going in. Only that didn't happen. They called Accessibility forward first, and then Purple stickers. We had purple stickers for numbers 175 and 176, so by the time we got in, most of the seats in the centre were already filled. We ended up on a hard pew at the side, near the entrance. 

I then realised two things:

1. The programme was being recorded for TV, not Radio, to be shown over the festive period, with multiple cameras set up to face the stage.

2. The room was far deeper than we'd experienced at Josie Long, double the depth of that event. 

The recording was brilliant. The comedians had a blast, providing hilarious answers that wouldn't make the edit. Des showed off his talent for mimicry, showcasing his impressions of The Donald, George Galloway, and Raymond Mearns. Mark Nelson cracked some hilarious jokes, such as "I've been inside a voting booth more often in the last ten years than I've been inside my wife." Stuart Mitchell had some dark humour lines, too. This is in relation to DJT's second state visit: "Usually, the only time Americans return to Scotland a second time is to get scattered."

The only downside to the recording was that it ran over by fifty minutes. By the time Des was recording his pick-ups at the end, many in the audience had decided to slip away, causing a noise problem as chairs scraped and footfalls echoed on the steps. 

At the very end, the producer presented a candlelit caterpillar cake to Des, and we sang "Happy Birthday" to the show. 

On the journey home, intending to collect the dogs first from doggy daycare, I entered our destination incorrectly into the sat nav. Fortunately, as I crossed the Squinty Bridge, I saw the journey time was 2 hours and 45 minutes, and I realised my mistake. I'd hit the Favourite button 12. Cruden Bay, instead of 13. Pawz & Co. The joys of a touchscreen. 

I'm pleased future recordings of the show are returning to Drygate. Fingers crossed my ticket application is accepted.

Our view of the stage

Ticket Price: Free from BBC Tours and Shows

Screenshots from the broadcast show:

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.

Elf Lyons "Horses" The Stand, Glasgow. Saturday 7th June, 2025.

I first saw this show at last year's Edinburgh Fringe. It blew me away - the best show I'd seen at the festival. When the tour was announced, I couldn't make the Scottish dates because I was already booked elsewhere: Jarlath on Friday and Billy Joel on Saturday. Then, Billy Joel rescheduled (and later cancelled) his date, which freed me up to attend.

As it was an afternoon performance, with doors opening at 3 pm and the show starting at 4 pm, running until 5:40 pm, I decided to drive to Ibrox and catch the subway to Kelvinbridge. I didn't have to collect anyone as my mate was busy and was going to make his own way there. The tube got busy when a hen group dressed as cowgirls (and boys) flooded in, on a pub crawl, stopping off at every station. They had tiny bottles of pink liquid, which they downed like shots. Their loud presence amused my fellow travellers, but I felt relieved when they got off. 

Isn't this a thing of black beauty?

I arrived at the venue so early that they hadn't even put out the chalk advertising board. There was no queue, just one other bloke leaning against a wall. The door at the foot of the stairs was open, so I went down to peek in, catching a glimpse of Elf walking away in costume, but it was apparent the audience hadn't gone in early. The table for checking off the ticket holders had been moved to the other end of the corridor.

I headed back upstairs.

A young couple arrived and saw the pair of us standing, and still decided to head down. They disappeared inside, so I figured they were staff. Only they weren't. They came back out laughing, checking their watches, and then disappeared off to the pub. (They returned closer to showtime, by which time only a few tables remained. They ended up sitting beside the wall at the side of the stage.) 

I ended up third in the queue when two ladies arrived and decided to stand at the top of the stairs. The other bloke, who had arrived much earlier than I had, didn't seem interested in joining us, remaining at the wall.  

At 3 pm, the door was opened, the doorstop put in place, and we were allowed in.

The room layout had been altered from its usual configuration. There were far fewer tables, with spacing between to create a corridor around the stage. I clicked on the reason, remembering the show's finale. However, it also suggested the show hadn't sold out. The staff had done a great job of making it look full.

I still have no idea what the letters perched on the floor were for

I spotted a staff member taking down Elf's posters, removing the dollops of blue tack from the corners, so I approached him, asking if I could have one. He said no problem, even going to the length of finding me an elastic band to secure it. We then chatted about when they were due to move to the new venue. He told me it would probably be in September: the room needs some work, including adjusting the stage height and building a false ceiling to keep the laughs in. I don't usually have the confidence to talk to strangers, but I felt comfortable as it was The Stand, my favourite comedy venue.  

When Bob arrived, I'd already got the drinks in. We chatted about whether to attend a gig later that night at the Classic Grand - his mate couldn't go and had offered him free tickets - and decided we would. I'd never heard of Electric Boys, nor The Spangles, but it was free, so why not?

I'd seen Susan Riddell earlier outside and wondered if she'd been asked to open for Elf. In my head, this didn't make sense. The nature of the performance required Elf to open the show. It turned out I was right. Susan was there as a punter, sitting a few seats away from me at a Reserved table - the perks of being a comedian.

   

The show itself was superb, even on second viewing. I laughed out loud so much it put Jarlath's show to shame. So many moments to remember: the audience's enthusiatic involvement in the scene with the Trojan Horse; audience member Marion panicking, waving her hands in the air, as her invisible gun kept shooting Elf; Elf's performance as Medusa, Pegasus, and the Minotaur; the scene with the sweet girl riding Chubby ending up down the well. Elf's physicality is impressive, but her script is so good, packed with funny lines.

 

Afterwards, she treated us to a second half, a spot of stand-up as a preview of sorts for her next work in progress. She admitted she hadn't yet worked out how to link the bits, but we went with it. It's going to be a corker. Maybe it'll get her on Taskmaster and keep her agent happy. 

At the rock show afterwards, my brain kept distracting me with ideas for Elf's new show. I ended up jotting them down on my phone. When another punter approached me and asked if I was a reviewer, I stopped and put my phone away. I missed a lot of the gig. 

When I got home, I emailed Elf my ideas. I'm not expecting a reply, unless it's an injunction order, preventing me from contacting her further. For a short time, though, while still elated by her show, I could dream of collaborating with her. Wouldn't that be nice!

The weeds have formed a wreath outside The Stand.
It's the end of an era.
In just a few months, the lease will expire, and they will be forced to move.
(The comedy club, not the weeds - I imagine they'll flourish).

Ticket Price: 2 x £15 plus £1.60 booking fee = £31.60 from The Stand

Poster now framed.

Eddie Izzard, Force Majeure (In English), The Stand, Glasgow. Sun 19th June 2016

Tonight's summary: human sacrifice, dogs, Caesar salad, a chicken, giraffes, lions & tigers, moles, horses and someone called Steve. Yes, I was at the Eddie Izzard 9pm gig tonight at The Stand. (performance in English, mostly, with occasional clucks). Fun stuff but I was too feart to take a piccy.

All proceeds from the gigs are being donated to the charities that Jo Cox supported.