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.

Mark Thomas "50 Things About Us", The Stand, Glasgow. Wednesday 16th February, 2022.

I don't normally book tickets to see a comedian twice on the same tour but because of the Ticketmaster debacle, I didn't think I was going to get to see him in Stirling. I went alone, this time because my pal tested positive for coronavirus. The Stand has a Covid policy to refund tickets in this situation so I'll get my money back on the unused ticket. 

Tonight's show was even better than the one at The Macrobert Arts Centre, despite essentially being the same material. The Stand is a proper comedy club with a better atmosphere. You feel closer to the comedian, seeing every bead of sweat as he performs his set. This also means he can see you, which was unfortunate for the numpty at the front who decided to take out his phone to send a text at the start of the second half. Mark politely ripped him apart for being rude to him and everyone around him. There were some quality heckles from the crowd ("Get out, get out, get out", a reference to one of Mark's jokes, and "Millions", a callback to a previous heckler whom Mark had handled with practised aplomb).  

The material seemed tighter tonight, even though he was perplexed that there were no diabetics in the crowd, in Glasgow, the chip capital of the world. I was primed ready with answers to obscure questions he asked last time but he'd trimmed that particular section so I didn't win a badge. He still gave us his Barry Cryer anecdotes but this time placed them near the end of the set and closed not on a gag about his shirt (different to the one above) but on one about his mum.  

I bought his book during the interval and got him to sign it after the show. I was too nervous to start a conversation except to say I also saw him in Stirling. At least now I can say I met one of my comedy heroes.  

Ticket Price: £15 each (no additional fees). 

Kevin Bridges, Work in Progress, Glee Club, Glasgow. Sunday 13th February, 2022

 

I missed out on tickets for Kevin's new tour so, on Friday, when The Glee Club announced a work in progress show for Sunday lunchtime, I jumped at the chance to go. When the email arrived, I was walking the dog on the Braes so she was unamused by me suddenly halting to type on my phone. She even approached passersby for some love and cuddles (to be fair, she does that often anyway).  

Kevin hasn't toured in four years and he was delighted to be back on stage testing his new material. Even though he had to refer to his notes occasionally, the material was strong covering the lockdowns (he does a good Jason Leitch impression), the Russia/Ukraine situation (giving it a Glasgow twist), getting married (stepping out of his comfort zone on city breaks) and having a kid (whom he named Paul, contrary to recent social trends) plus lots of other things I can't remember now. He gave us a good hour and fifteen minutes and we loved it, even the poor doctor on the front row, whom Kevin centred on every time he needed a segue for the next bit. I was so glad Kevin never extended his audience probing beyond Dr Phil, especially when he trotted out a bit about getting haemorrhoids and needing to go to Boots for a treatment. Thanks to the allocated seating, we ended up sitting in the second row, right beside the stairs onto the stage, so very much in the potential firing line. 

If you were lucky enough to get a ticket for his tour, you are in for a fun night. Even the tour support, Chris Washington, is great, based on the evidence today.

Our view of the stage (no photos allowed during the performance)

Jimeoin, "Turn It Up!" Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Saturday 12th February, 2022.

I nearly never went to this gig. My wife called off, leaving me with a spare ticket that, it turned out, no one wanted. Even when I tried to give them both away for free, still no one was interested. Brilliant seats too, near the middle of the front row in the Circle. 

So I went by myself and I'm so glad I did.

Jimeoin is like a human tickle. His littlest expressions can trigger a giggle which builds and builds, much like his routines, adding tag after tag after tag, each line funnier, throwing in callbacks when you least expect them. His material is as light as a feather, daft and silly, mining nuance for comic effect. He sprinkles in some exquisite flights of fancy such as what if every country had to walk like their national dance, before demonstrating a Spaniard going to the shops, then someone Irish dancing across a zebra crossing. He finished the show with some comic songs on his guitar. By the end, I was in fits of giggles, no longer self-conscious about the empty seat beside me. 

He played longer than billed, finishing at 10pm rather than 9.25pm so, by the time I reached the car park, the vehicles were gridlocked trying to get out, the Concert Hall having emptied at the same time. I ended up sitting patiently for twenty-five minutes until eventually, an Audi let me out (I know - an Audi - so unexpected). It took me more time to get out of that car park than it took me to drive all the way home. 

While I waited in the car park, my newly generated endorphins subsiding, none of the drivers stuttering past my car would make eye contact. Becoming irked,  I imagined ducking down, letting a few cars roll by then rising up again wearing a Michael Myers mask. I'd stare at the next driver not letting me out then exit my vehicle, stand beside their driver's window, holding a carjack in my hand, and tilt my head in incredulity while staring at them. I'd savour the concern growing on their trapped faces, their escape blocked by the car in front. Then I'd tap the window and ask, "Are you gonna let me out, mate?"

Fortunately (or unfortunately), I didn't have that kind of mask on me. Wrong time of year. 

Ticket Price: £18.50 each plus a transaction fee of £2.25 and postage £1.30.

Other funnies from the night:

Being aware of sucking in my stomach as I rose after the show, an action not unrelated to the fact the two young ladies on my right were total wowsers. Not that there would have been any universe where I could have impressed them, given I was old enough to be their dad and their attentive boyfriends were sitting right behind them. 

At the car park exit barrier, as I attempted to insert my ticket quickly into the machine, I hit my hand against the car's side window, having forgotten to wind it down. Fortunately, my embarrassment was spared as the barrier rose anyway. 

Nina Conti, "The Dating Show", Theatre Royal, Glasgow. Sunday 30th January, 2022

 

The blurb: "British Comedy Award winner Nina is pioneering a new dating show. She’ll be like Cilla Black with masks. Derailed. Not so much a Blind Date as a re-voiced one. There is no promise that true love will be found but a firm guarantee that big laughs will be had in the reign of this quick-thinking queen of ventriloquism."

It is a brave person who's willing to improvise an entire show. Braver still to do so as a ventriloquist. Add in audience participation, multiple accents, mask operation and improvised songs and you've got to be pretty special to pull it off. Nina does so with aplomb (and a hand up a Monkey's arse).

She and Monkey, her painfully funny glove puppet dummy, introduce us to the concept of the show then bring up two volunteers from the front row to demonstrate what is going to happen. She puts mouth/chin masks on them and the fun begins.

Mark and Julie (real names) met on Plenty of Fish (true) and had their first date in Frankie & Bennies (also true) then made a sex tape (unconfirmed but likely improvised - the comedy, not the sex tape). Nina makes up all the dialogue for both partners reading their body language and hand expressions.

Then Marcella, a single PhD student in Civil Engineering, is looking for love. She sang a song about her true love running over the hills from Kirkcaldy. For this part, Nina brought on a guitarist to play the tune. All in, thirty minutes of hilarity before the interval.

The speed dating section opened the second half, with willing audience participants asked to line up. Once a queue of around a dozen people had formed, Nina came on stage dressed as a full-size Monkey. The first man up got a massive surprise when he wasn't given a mask and realised he had to make small talk himself with the Monkey.

After a series of speed dates, Nina was pulled from her costume by the final pair and the remaining queue sent away. These two then agreed to put on the masks and Nina engineered another scenario, with the mother seeking a suitor for her daughter. The first lad was no good so Nina brought back the male dancer who hadn't had the chance to speak to her on a speed date. The interaction between the three especially the sitting down mum was hysterical.

Then the cleaning company man was brought up on stage so she find him a date, getting him to show off his broom skills. He knew his way around a broom handle we discovered.

In the finale, she brought back Monkey and showed off her ventriloquism skills by switching voices with Monkey then having both of them talk at the same time. Quite a talent.

And then it was over. 

A quick night, starting at 7.30 and finishing at 9.15, but packed with improvising gold.   

Ticket Price: £28.90 each, plus £2.85 transaction fee and £2.90 VAT 

 

  

Mark Thomas, "50 Things About Us", Macrobert Arts Centre, University of Stirling. Saturday 29th January, 2022

The official blurb describes this show as "Mark picks through the myths, facts and figures of our national identities to ask who do we think we are?" This it did but tonight it seemed to be about a whole lot more.

There were quite a few gaps in the audience, more so than the seating-plan ticket availability would have suggested. That could have been down to the bad weather or the pandemic or maybe just Ticketmaster fucking up (more of which below).

 

Mark kicked off by mentioning his recent deafness (hence his hearing aid), then moved onto other subjects: his diabetes (Type 2, earned, not inherited, like a proper working man's disease); sharps bins (which drew a factual heckle in response to his line "When you've filled it, they've GOT to take it back"); his Steptoe-like mum with whom he spent lockdown (she's "unbelievable" in her wickedness); his love of music hall songs (not a tradition I've followed as closely as him); and the ineptitude and negligence of each of the Tory MPs at Westminster, especially the liar-in-chief Boris Johnston. This was just the first half and didn't seem to connect with the subject of the show, which he himself realised, eliciting the apology, "I appear to have forgotten to do the show I was originally booked to perform". He was enjoying himself though, having not gigged in a while, bending over and giggling at his own off-the-cuff material.

He was much more on topic in the second half, where he was much outraged by the idea of Tory peers suggesting Britain was full up. He then produced all the facts and figures to explain why this was not the case. National identity and colonialism featured too. He's written a book to accompany the show, available on his website, £10 for a signed copy or £1000 for a rare, unsigned one, the cheeky squire.

Overall, this show was sweary as fuck especially when it came to the bits about the politicians but I enjoyed it greatly. His asides about the loss of Barry Cryer were endearing and heartfelt.

We were both lucky to make the gig: him because Storm Malick had decimated the West Coast rail line service; and me because Ticketmaster had logged the show in my account as a Past Event, believing the much-rescheduled event had taken place in September 2020. Many emails later over a period of five months, they finally confirmed I still had tickets. Then they said they were posting them out. These new ones never arrived so I complained again most urgently. So they cancelled the originals, telling me their records showed they'd been sent out shortly after I bought them - in September 2019. I shake my head in disbelief. Fortunately, new ones were made available to collect from the venue on the night. So it all ended well. 

As did the gig, finishing with a clever clogs punchline about his shirt.

Ticket Price £16 each

Service charge £1.95 each

Delivery Charge £3.25

Frankie Boyle's New World Order End Of Year Show Recording, Film City, Glasgow. Tuesday 14th December, 2021

I missed out on GUN's Barrowland gig on Saturday thanks to an unfortunate COVID ping from Track and Trace. At any other time, a ten-day forced absence from work would have been a delight (excepting the illness part) but this week I was on holiday and had gigs to attend. Fortunately, my PCR result returned negative so my plans for the rest of the week were not scuppered. 

Originally, this show wasn't on my list for this week. I hadn't even bothered applying for tickets. Then, after watching the show, I noticed a name I recognised on the show's end credits. I contacted her to check if she was this person (I knew she worked in television) hoping to get some juicy backstage goss about the show. I happened to mention how long I've admired Frankie Boyle's work and she responded by offering me tickets to one of the recordings. Not just tickets, production seats, the M&S of show tickets, although at the time I didn't realise how big a deal this was. 

So, tickets printed and maps checked, we drove to Ibrox Underground station and walked the short distance to Film City on Govan Road, not failing to notice the number of parking spaces available closer. It was a cold night but the rain had paused so it wasn't too much of an inconvenience. We joined the end of the queue, which had stretched around the corner of the building. The Standing Room Only staff were checking names and temperatures. When they came to us, they highlighted that we had Production Seats and indicated we should head to the front and go in. My temp check was fine but the thermometer froze during Bob's scan. They eventually needed to scan his neck having failed to register anything other than LOW on his forehead and wrist.

At the front, the doors were already open and the queue was moving in. They closed ranks as we approached not leaving any gaps so we stood there until a security person pushed through with someone else, announcing "VIPs coming through". We tagged on behind. At the next checkpoint, the staff checked my name again and gave us silver wristbands and examined our COVID passports. The lady wanted to see all the content, not just the QR code. Then we were handed black PPE facemasks to wear during the show.

We waited in the holding area in the building's cafe. There, a security woman with long dark hair and fierce eyeliner kept us away from the doors marked PRODUCTION  and TALENT and directed those in need towards the toilets. She didn't appear happy in her job, like a wolf forced to shepherd sheep. We didn't have too long to wait before she announced that Gold and Silver wristband holders could proceed into the studio.

It felt like we had priority boarding as we headed in, greeted by an attractive production assistant who ushered us to our seats. This feeling of elation grew even stronger when I saw the signs for our reserved seats, with my name in capitals, in the second row from the front. 

The studio lights were warm as we waited for the rest of the audience to filter in. Cameramen and the production crew stood around waiting too. Without a fanfare, comedian Christopher MacArthur-Boyd jumped onto the stage to warm us up, performing material at least one audience member had heard before.

Then Frankie came on to greet us, telling us the three jokes he uses to gauge an audience's tolerance levels. And the show began.

The recording went on far longer than the half-hour programme suggests, going on for nearly two hours and those seats are not comfortable over a prolonged period. With the audience lights dimmed, the room grew colder despite being packed in close together. Fortunately, there were plenty of laughs to keep us warm. There was a brief respite where they paused the show to allow Jamali Maddix a fag break. Christopher came back and that gave us wriggle time knowing the cameras were off. 

As this is television, at the end there were pick-ups to do, one where Frankie had mispronounced Ant McPartlin's surname and another where Susie McCabe had to redo her bit about Talk Radio. It was also strange listening to Frankie recite a monologue of words like up first, up next, and finally, one after another to be subsequently used in the edit to link the sequences.

The cast posed for a picture and it was all over.

A fun experience and I can't wait to see what they use. One bit I know won't be in it is the first joke from Frankie's end of show monologue. Even he knew it, returning to his seat to start afresh, beginning with the next joke.  

Thank you to Clare Hipkiss for arranging the tickets. Check out her novel, Tales from the Ice Cream Van here. It's really good.