Eddie Izzard, "Wunderbar", Kings Theatre, Glasgow 5th Oct 2019.

A yellow weather warning sign displayed on the motorway tonight as I headed into Glasgow. There should have been one outside the theatre too as Eddie Izzard treated us to heavy giggles and floods of laughter. 'Wunderbar' is his final tour before he heads off on the campaign trail to become an MP and it is a belter. 

At the start, he explained why he wants to Make Humanity Great Again while decrying our current leaders whose insular thinking he abhors. Only, unlike me, he made it funny and interesting.  

His attire was enhanced by a wonderbra (because he's dyslexic), worn under his black blazer, giving his upper-half a bigger bulge than usual. The ensemble continued with black shorts, black tights and knee-high leather boots (although he swapped into plum-coloured high heels for the second half). Bright pink lipstick completed his look as a blonde/blond 1930's chanteuse, deliberately chosen as that's the period of history we seem to be returning to (unless we change it). 

From when he left the stage at the end. I didn't
take any photos during the performance. 

Unusually for him, he shared some fond stories about his parents, such as the childhood adventures he went on with his mother (she died when he was young) and the jokes his father expressed near the end of his life, revealing him to be a wickedly-funny man. These stories weren't mawkish or sentimental but used more as jumping-off points for more surreal silliness.

He delivered a tiny fraction of his material in German, a little in French, a lot in Pingu and made regular use of expressive sound effects. Regardless of which language he used, though, it was all incredibly funny. His characteristic, playful dialogues riffed on history from the Big Bang to last Thursday through a prism of modern cultural motifs, James Bond, Marvel and JRR Tolkein all getting mentions. 

He brought us a fat ancient king (William the Conquerer, I think) who died when he exploded like Mr Creosote, killed not with a thick slice of chocolate mint or medium-size chocolate mint but a (French-accented) wafer-thin chocolate mint. While detailing how Henry the Eighth's wives died, one was beheaded by a helicopter (true story). There were also lots of historical figures called Kenny. 

He's not a fan of religion, preferring logic and reason to blind belief, and acted out why it took God 130 billion years to create man - after the Big Bang, he'd also invented crack.

Tigers featured heavily tonight (jazz chickens were only trotted out once) and so we were blessed to hear his version of a Tiger hymn because, of course, all of God's creatures must worship their Creator. 

This is a surface scratch of the zaniness. I can't recall it all. It's a wonder he can remember it all too.

He left as he appeared, in a blaze of light. 

Final word: "Wunderbar".

Frankie Boyle, Full Power, Kings Theatre, Glasgow. Tuesday 1st October, 2019.

I've been going to see Frankie perform since the days of his pink suit when he played at The Garage on Sauchiehall Street. I've watched his star rise, get consumed by his own bile then witnessed his return on his own terms, sober but still delightfully twisted and curmudgeonly. 

The support act was the naturally funny Ray Bradshaw. He got twenty minutes to play with before the venue insisted on selling more booze and ice cream. He coped admirably. His material around sign language and his deaf parents was top-notch. He is touring later in the year and would be well worth a look-see.

We were warned both on the posters displayed on the doors and verbally by the ushers that once Frankie has started there would be no readmittance to anyone leaving the auditorium. Obviously, for a Glasgow audience, this meant wading back to your seat loaded up with pints of lager just before the lights dimmed. I wondered how many would last through his set without needing a pish. Fortunately for them, he only played for an hour so few departed.

Tam Cowan was sitting in front of me. He didn't load up at the interval but did need a pish at the end, asking the ladies to his right if they wouldn't mind letting him pass given his urgency. As he is semi-famous, they, of course, insisted on chatting to him. He managed to hold it in as far as I could tell. No fouling off the ball for Tam. 

(Trivia: Tam looks older than me but is actually six months younger - that's journalism for you). 

I had attended the gig alone so was more receptive to the people around me. I thought the couple sitting on my right were mismatched. Both were in their early twenties. She was a pretty brunette in a green and blue dress with red tights that colour-matched her loafers. She also wore a purple beaded necklace that Frankie might have suggested (had he seen it), she kept as an emergency marital aid. The boyfriend, on the other hand, looked like he could pass as Ed Sheeran's older brother in Jarvis Cocker specs, with short ginger hair, short ginger beard and, presumably, short ginger pubes. He droned on with the annoying monotony of a 1970's sociology lecturer.

I couldn't understand their attraction. 

Then, when Frankie came on stage (not sexually), she put her fingers to her mouth and let rip a whistle that would leave Ray Bradshaw's parents complaining. 

Then I got it.

She was pretty.
He was annoying.
Together they were pretty annoying.

The rest of the audience were mostly well-mannered with only a couple of idiots heckling. Frankie swiftly put them down and moved on, not wishing to give their interruption more air than they deserved, while inwardly hoping they might bleed to death on the leaky priapism they'd given themselves.

You can tell I enjoyed the gig.

  

Annie Lennox, An Evening of Music and Conversation, SEC Armadillo, Glasgow 26th Sept, 2019

I know I shouldn't criticise this event as it's intent was to raise money for The Circle, Annie's charity supporting woman experiencing challenges and injustice around the world but I am struggling to find nice things to say about it.

It was billed as 'An Evening of Music & Conversation' but the music accounted for less than a third of the night and her band, who didn't appear until the finale, while undoubtedly good as individual musicians, sounded and looked more like a wedding band in their white shirts. They wouldn't have made it beyond the audition stage of the X-Factor even with Annie singing. They did sound more cohesive when the lighting engineer threw down some shapes and Sisters started Doing It For Themselves but by that time the show was practically over.

The music wasn't the only disappointment. The chat between her and Janice Forsyth (of BBC Radio Scotland fame) had me mimicking her expression in the poster. Annie is pleasant to listen to but there's not a lot of fun to her stories. She sometimes reminded me of a rock'n'roll nan looking through an old photo album reminiscing about the good old days to her grandchildren without explaining what was good about them. I wanted details. I wanted humour. I wanted to hear about the background to her songs, the albums and the tour anecdotes. It became a bit of a whirlwind as classic moments popped onto the screen with barely a mention.     

Another reason for my lack of engagement was probably due in part to my tickets being in the Gallery. As the big screen was only being used to display the photos and video clips, I was too far away to feel any intimacy that I think the event required. Others might disagree. Some rabid fans in the Gallery could not contain their excitement, whistling and shouting vocal responses during the talk like they were replying to a gospel preacher.  I just think, if she's going to spend so much time chatting, it would have been nice to see her facial expressions. That would have cost more money though and the charity would have got less.

There were some nice touches like having the stage where the pair chatted look like a front room in a 1950's tenement, similar to the environment in which Annie grew up. It was great to hear her belt out The Tourists' hit, "I Only Want To Be With You" on the piano. She told a lovely story about the making of the song "There Must Be An Angel (Playing With My Heart)"  where Stevie Wonder was very late yet left them awestruck when he played 'that' harmonica solo (while Stevie's assistant held his hair to stop the beads making a noise). Her passion for her causes shone through too. The material about her work against apartheid to free Nelson Mandela was affecting, as was her time working to fight AIDS. She loves a good cause and there's nothing wrong with that.

I don't think we'll ever see Annie perform a full set again but we'll always have her songs and videos. I think that may be a better way to remember her than this. 

Nose bleed territory where even the aircon pipes are lower than you.

The top half is the big screen. 

Annie prefers to stay out of the spotlight.

And goodnight? No, not really.

Foo Fighters, Summer Sessions, Bellahouston Park, Glasgow 17th Aug 2019

The Foo Fighters have been around a long time. The last time I saw them live was in 1999 at the Barrowlands. That night was amazing, the image of a T-Shirt flying through the air, landing on Dave Grohl's head covering his entire face, indelibly burned in my memory. He took it in good humour then and he retains that spirit now, the frontman willing to have a laugh but still in control.

We were warned beforehand that the venue, Bellahouston Park, was a mud pit due to the heavy August rains and the grass being churned up by the fan attending the Cure gig the previous night. Wellies were the footwear recommended by the promoters. With more rain expected, I ended up looking like I'd dressed more for a Highland hike than a rock concert, wearing my hiking boots, denims and a waterproof jacket. 

Carefully squelching across the grass to entrance A, we joined the slowest queue as usual. While waiting, my wife revealed she had brought two Alpen Light bars with her in her bag and I warned her they would be confiscated. She then insisted I take them so I hid the contraband in my jeans pockets hoping the door staff would stop short of frisking my newly-enhanced crotch bulge. There was a female on our queue and she didn't cop a feel so everything was good.

Inside, the mud was worse but in daylight, this was an easy traverse. Having arrived early before any of the acts performed, we were able to grab a spot on the barrier behind what we thought was the VIP area. I was a bit miffed that the promoters had not mentioned this special area when I bought the tickets, thinking the VIPs only had their own toilets and food area. It turned out the space was for anyone but I didn't find this out till the next day. We had a good view anyway.

First up was Hot Milk. They are a bouncy, KerrangTV- friendly, nu-metal band from Manchester, who spent a lot of the set telling us to put our hands in the air, to jump up and down and who shouted 'Glasgow' a lot. The strong wind blew away their dry ice. I wasn't blown away by them.   

Next up were The Van.T's. This girl group (plus boy drummer) are from Glasgow and produce a sound with lots of distorted guitars. A few of the tunes got me tapping my feet but the heavy shower during their set meant I was mostly trying to avoid getting soaked. The grey clouds cleared by the end of their set though. 

Then we got the monster that is Frank Carter with his Rattlesnakes. Frank has the swagger and confidence of a young John Lydon, stepping like a loon, jumping off the stage to walk across the crowd. Then he realised there wasn't stairs to get back up onto the main stage and had to climb up. He took it in good humour though, mocking himself. Their set brought the gig to life in a deliberate attempt to upstage the Foos. They didn't manage but they were great.

Slaves, on the other hand, were not my thing. A duo, from the 'garden of England', they are an acquired taste, much like oral thrush. The lead singer/ drummer, naked apart from his shorts, resembles a young Danny Dyer if he'd snorted the ashes of Keith Flint then gone on a cocaine and booze binge. He regularly showered himself with lager and performed like he was doing drum aerobics during the set, which was noisy, energetic and shouty. A bit of a turnoff.

The Foos are majestic. They know how to bring it and not disappoint. They played a set lasting 2hrs 40mins with songs from all eras of their career plus a couple of covers, Taylor Hawkins taking over lead vocals during Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie. 
Their rousing tribute to the Scottish Young brothers, Let There Be Rock (AC/DC) was immense. Sometimes they stretch the songs a little too long but they enjoyed themselves. I particularly liked when Dave Grohl introduced each bandmate and they all played something to show off, the keyboard player tinkling the Flower of Scotland which triggered the crowd into full anthem mode. Dave scolded him for upstaging the others, telling him he was sacked.

On this tour, the Foos have brought backing singers with them, including Dave's thirteen-year-old daughter, Violet. She declined her father's invitation to duet with him, miming that her voice was not good enough. Dave enjoyed teasing her though.         

There was a little trouble in the crowd during their set with a few latecomers shoving their way forward but G4S were quick to warn them to calm down. The good thing was, because the troublemakers were worse for alcohol, they didn't have the stamina to last the gig so by the final hour the pushing had stopped.  

Afterwards, as we trekked across the marsh to the exit, the moon was full but not bright enough to illuminate our footing. The squelchiness, however, was not enough to dampen our happiness over what had been a great day.

Long Live the Foos. 

Setlist
Stacked Actors
The Pretender
Learn to Fly
Run
The Sky Is a Neighborhood
Times Like These
Drum Solo
Sunday Rain
My Hero
These Days
La Dee Da
Walk
The Boys Are Back in Town / Good Times / Flower of Scotland / Ziggy Stardust / Scar Tissue (Band introductions)
Under Pressure (Queen cover)
All My Life
I'll Stick Around
Wheels
Monkey Wrench
Hey, Johnny Park!
Dirty Water
This Is a Call
Best of You
Let There Be Rock (AC/DC cover)
Everlong

     

Craig Ferguson, Hobo Fabulous, Edinburgh Playhouse, 12th Aug. 2019

I've been a big fan of Craig Ferguson since way back to his days as Bing Hitler. I even once, in 1994, saw him perform stand-up for ten minutes downstairs at Blackfriars in Glasgow before he walked off stage apologising for his inability to perform being slightly worse for wear with alcohol. 

This was his first Edinburgh Fringe show in twenty-five years. He asked us not to tweet or Instagram any content from the show so my short review is I liked him. Despite him being resident in the States now and a U.S. citizen, his material still travelled well and he knows how to utilize a good callback. I loved his story about his triple-headed nose pluke named after the prettiest girl in class. Anyway, that's all I'll say about the show.

Highlights and incidents: 
The rain put paid to catching the 18.00 train to Waverley with the trip along the M8 taking an hour. Audi drivers apparently believe indicators should be used to declare they are changing lane, regardless of whether there is a space in the traffic flow. At least it shows they know the car has indicators.

My wife was disappointed not to get a coffee to drink with her wrap on the train but Queen Street Station was undergoing renovation and we'd no time to hunt around for a cafe before the 18.30 left. We did get a double seat to ourselves though.

More disappointment in Edinburgh when the Playhouse had run out of coffee pods. She had to watch the gig without her fix.

At security, all bags were being searched and any liquids discarded into a large, clear bowl. It amused me to imagine two people carrying separate components for a chemical reaction causing the liquid bubble and fizz like a mentos cola bomb. Nothing too dramatic. I wouldn't want to miss the show by being arrested for a terror incident.

Heading back to the station after the gig, a rogue golf umbrella prong nearly took out my wife's eye. She soldiered on and was rewarded with a slice of lemon drizzle cake and a hot chocolate. We caught the 22.30 to Queen Street, which was just as well as the 23.30 was cancelled due to a shortage of staff. We did have to suffer a party of tipsy teen girls singing Madonna's Like A Prayer over and over again. It felt like I was in the carriage to hell. Why didn't I bring along earphones? Forty-five minutes never felt so long.

They're onto Lewis Capaldi now.
It just became an Uptown Girl medley. And back to Lewis again even louder.
Now they're arguing over what to sing next.
Vogue with actions.
Ain't no mountain high enough. Too right! You'd still hear them anywhere.
Now they are taking requests. But not to shut up.
They're not the Spice Girls. They're the Pickled Girls. 
And they're all Scary.

CluedUpp Game - "Sneaky Finders", Stirling Detective Day - 13th July 2019

Guest post by Buddy Paisley of 'Buddy Paisley's Detective Agency'.

After we got the call saying there had been a murder, me and my sidekick, Minty, hot-tailed it to 1920s Millingham, a city remarkably like Stirling in look and location.  Unfortunately, two of our team had to pull out. Wheels Tyler claimed he had blown a casket en route and Boaby the Hut reported he'd lost his stomach for investigation. Had Millingham's Scarlett Street Cutters got to them first?

Millingham's cops were getting nowhere fast. We were tasked with stalking the streets, tracking down virtual witnesses and eliminating suspects, along the way identifying the murder weapon. Luckily, the skies were sunny and the streets warm so this was one job that was going to be a pleasure.

We discovered we were not alone in our task. The cops had thrown the event wide open to a hundred teams, all with the same aim - to have a fun day out in the city centre glued to their phones. 

After we loaded up the game onto our app, we hit our first glitch: only 198 out of 201 images loaded with no recourse to retry. We prayed it would have no bearing on the end result (Spoiler: it didn't). Minty logged in too and we watched the intro video. After we'd clicked onto 'Find Witnesses', the map opened and the clock started, the timer ticking away with a deadline 5pm finish. Plenty of time for a team as intelligent, gifted and bright as us. 

As we began our investigation, with icons indicating the required GPS locations, we quickly realised it was not going to be that easy, not with prizes at stake. We needed to solve clues at each location before we could interview our witness (if they didn't hot foot it away, giving us five minutes to find them again). Some clues involved breaking codes while others were based on location trivia questions or simple riddles. As we had my detective skills and Minty's brains (and Google) we got most of the questions right. We managed to talk to everyone (with only three time penalties for incorrect answers), even finding a secret witness not indicated on the map.

We did pause midway through the investigation for a lunchtime repaste at an Indian restaurant, The Maharaja. We were surprised to learn the waiting staff hadn't heard about the murder or even the town of Millingham. Someone must have bought their silence. We didn't push it by using up our additional witness questions and tipped nicely for our delicious curry. We hoped it wasn't secretly poisoned.  

Continuing the search, we looped around the hill up to the castle to find the remaining witnesses, locating the final one fittingly on Baker Street. With all the witness statements in the bag (or app), we retired to a local hostelry, The Mint Cafe (at Minty's request - she had a mint-chocolate ice cream milkshake while I chowed down on a coconut slice and glugged a breakfast tea). There, we perused our clues and eliminated suspects and murder weapons until we were sure we had our method and killer.

Of course, we got it right first time. Justice was served.

We rated the experience five stars and viewed the finale - the murderer's confession. The phone charge was already down at 25% so we were glad we hadn't watched all the witness statement videos, instead choosing to read them along the way. 

We didn't top the leaderboard but we didn't expect to due to our long lunch break. Still, it felt good to see the company name up there. Maybe next time we'll do better (unless, of course, a mealtime gets in the way).

Thank you, Buddy.

Call the police there's a madman around - see below.