Tommy Tiernan, "Tommedian" Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow. Saturday 6th April, 2024

This was the email I received prior to the event:

We're getting in touch with a reminder that the Tommy Tiernan show on Saturday, 6 April 2024, is a PHONE-FREE event. Here's some further information for you:

THIS EVENT IS A PHONE-FREE SHOW

WHAT IS A “PHONE-FREE SHOW”? Just as it sounds. Use of phones/digital devices will not be permitted in the performance space.

HOW DOES IT WORK? Upon arrival at the venue, Yondr (the phone-pouching company hired to do this) will have staff available to help you put your phone in a lockable pouch which you keep throughout the night. There will be ticket writers on site to assist if you had a mobile ticket on your phone. If you have reserved seating please take note of your Block, Row and Seat Number from your digital ticket before you arrive at the venue.

WHAT IF I HAVE AN EMERGENCY AND NEED TO ACCESS MY PHONE? You can unlock your phone from the pouch at any time by going to the clearly marked ‘Phone Use Area’ located within the venue. Please see any usher or Yondr staff if you need help finding it.

WHAT ABOUT BARS OR MERCHANDISE? Please bring your physical credit/debit card with you for use at the bar/concessions in the venue.

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS & IS IT MANDATORY? Yes, it is mandatory. We’re convinced this makes for a better show for everyone involved. Our eyes open a bit wider, and our senses are slightly more heightened when we lose the technology crutch we’ve become accustomed to. And yes, it’s a non-negotiable deal.

I expected carnage with a huge queue of people around the block outside the theatre waiting to have their phones pouched. Instead, we found entry slick and fast, with slight security and no one questioning whether we had a phone as we bypassed the Yondr table and headed up the stairs. It did look odd, though, to see so many people entering the auditorium delicately clutching their pouches, unsure what to do with them.  

My wife asked me, "What if someone's phone isn't switched off and it rings? They can't open the pouch to turn it off." 

I smiled. "Wouldn't that be amusing!" 

Disappointingly, it never happened. (We left our phones at home). 

There are two empty seats on my left, despite the show being a sell-out. I speculate as to why: a sudden illness, a death in the family, a break-up involving one partner throwing out the other for spending all their time at work. Not that I'll ever find out. I enjoyed the extra room, though, being able to lean across without encroaching on someone else's space.  

The auditorium lights go down, a spotlight beam illuminates the microphone stand, and Tommy walks onto the stage without fanfare or introduction. Taking a moment to soak up the adulation from both sides of the audience, he then moves the stand out of the spotlight and takes the microphone. He makes a gleeful remark about us not having our phones, and we're off. 

Garbed all in black, topped with a woollen fisherman beanie hat, he stands before us as the Feral Philosopher King taking the stage to share his craic. He doesn't want anything to distract us from his craft. His pacing is measured and thoughtful, his language vulgar and forthright. He prowls the stage delivering his stories, digressing as the will takes him. He starts by acting out the many singing styles of Bob Dylan's career, then moves on to a story of a murdering paedophile on Death Row. He performs the condemned man's emotional final speech, delivered in front of both his family and the bereaved parents of his victims. He relates how he found Jesus at the end and how God has forgiven him for his sins. He believes he'll soon be up in Heaven, reunited forever with the babies he took from the people in front of him. Only this time, he knows better than to touch them. A dark and delicious punchline I hadn't seen coming. 

His tale about ordering a room service breakfast to his hotel bedroom and then fretting about how he'd look, a decrepit fifty-four-year-old Irishman in pyjamas, to the poor girl bringing him his food flies off wildly into his imagination. He figures she must have seen it all but then questions what she hadn't seen. He imagines a scenario where she finds him in bed with a woman, then two women, then triplets because why not, it's his fantasy. But what would he do with three women in bed at the same time? He then acts out what he'd have to do to satisfy them all, amending their positions to his tastes. His choice of phrasing is hilarious (the phrase, "her massive, three-gallon titties," stuck in my mind for some reason).

He rails at the accusation of him being offensive, for these are jokes, and offence is entirely in the ear of the beholder. He starts a story about a man with Down Syndrome and immediately berates us for not trusting him to make the joke about the situation, not the person. He tells us he was once scolded by a man in a small village in rural Ireland, who could not be convinced that the Down's Syndrome Association had seen and vetted the joke, dismissing his claim with a what would that lot know. There's delight in Tommy's eyes as he tiptoes along the safe side of the line. 

Despite claiming not to be into music, he manages to sing Ian Dury's Spasticus Autisticus while dancing energetically as he would have done at the school disco and then later gets the entire audience to participate in a rendition of The Eurythmics' Sweet Dream (Are Made of These) in his closer about performing for Prince Charles at his fiftieth birthday concert (they'd been on before him). That night, he brought the house down with his joke, and tonight, he did so again. Show over, he leaves the stage, his job done.    

As the auditorium lights signal it's time to leave, I rise from my seat, and my back twinges, bordering on spasm. Hobbling along the row, I notice a large woman in the row in front, walking as if she has one leg shorter than the other. I realise my gait looks similar to hers. As we reach the stairs, I am right behind her, and it now looks like I am mimicking her movement. Whenever the line halts, she turns around. To onlookers, it must appear that I'm trying to avoid her catching me doing an impression of her. 

My wife and I then walk back to the car along the ripped-up, pedestrianised Sauchiehall Street, past empty shop unit shutters that have become a canvas for unartistic graffiti and homeless beggars huddled in the shadows of shop doorways. We passed many girls of all ages heading for a night out in Glasgow. I quickly realised the amount of clothing the women wear is directly related to their age. The young ones are practically naked, while the older ones have sensible layers to keep them warm. I can't decide if the young ones believe they have more to flaunt or if the older ones just want the men to work harder to get them undressed. Not that it matters to me. The only woman I'm taking home tonight is my wife. If my back doesn't ease off, I'll need her assistance to remove my socks. This is what foreplay has become. She's asleep before I come to bed.

This is what a night of comedy from Tommy Tiernan does to a man but it's still brilliant craic.

Ticket price: £70.55 (inc all fees) direct from The Pavilion Theatre.

Tour blurb:

Tommy Tiernan’s brand new show, Tommedian, is a fun-fueled trip through the comic imagination of one of the best comedians in the world.

This is a wild, uninhibited and fiercely physical display of stand up. A madcap parade of characters, memories and ridiculous flights of fancy. Theatrical, poetical and slightly unhinged…. DON’T YOU DARE MISS IT !!!

Tiernan’s legendary record-breaking ticket sales extend across the world. The Star of Channel 4’s hit show Derry Girls and Live at the Apollo (BBC) and the host of his own highly critically praised improvised chat show on Ireland’s RTE 1.

The Hives, The Death of Randy Fitzsimmons Tour 2024. Barrowland Ballroom, Glasgow. Monday 1st April, 2024

I was offered a ticket to this sold-out gig after two friends mixed up who was buying, resulting in a spare. I had heard of the band but was not familiar with their work, but my friend promised me they were amazing live. With no work the next day, why not? 

Prior to the gig, a few of us went for dinner at Bar SOBA, an Asian fusion street food restaurant in the Merchant City area of Glasgow, a short walk from the Barrowland. I had Yakisoba as my main and Mochi Balls for dessert. The latter seemed aptly named, as they had the texture of ice cream stuffed into a bull's testicle, albeit a mock one. I'm not sure I'd order it again.

The rain drizzled as we headed to the venue, now joined by Doug, the fourth member of tonight's troupe. After a brief security frisk, we headed inside, checked out the merchandise, and then went upstairs to the dancefloor, only to find all the rear barrier spaces taken. We stood near the fire doors at the back.

Support act Bad Nerves plays what they describe as fast music, reminiscent of The Ramones. It wasn't unpleasant or overly engaging, but the audience at the front went mad for them, jumping about and pumping their fists in the air. It wasn't really my thing.

As their set finished, so did my painkillers. My back twinges started up, and I began to wonder if I was going to survive the night standing. I knew Bob had accessibility access seats available to him and wondered if that might be the less painful option for me. Doug noticed me eyeing the seats and suggested we both make use of them (he'd had back problems, too, after a rugby injury). The security person guarding access to this section took some persuading to let us in, as Bob's Ticketmaster tickets didn't specifically mention 'accessibility', but he pointed out the pricing indicated he had access. She eventually relented and opened the barrier to let the two of us in. By this point, I didn't need to act about how much pain I was in as I climbed the steps, grasping the handrail like it was a crutch.

The Accessibility platform is probably not the best location to experience The Hives, but I have to say, situated above head height, the view was excellent. The seating is quite cramped, but at least no one expects you to stand when they want past to go to the bar or toilets.  

If I thought the crowd was mad for Bad Nerves, it went up to the max when The Hives took the stage. Their frontman, Howlin’ Pelle, was in total control, whether it be making the crowd put their hands in the air, clap their hands or swing their arms from side to side. He was all over the stage, from side to side, flicking his microphone cord so it didn't get tangled, jumping on and off the risers and down to the audience, leaning over to slap their hands, nearly falling in a couple of times. His banter has the force of a Swedish Hitler (only with more humour and less intention to invade Poland), berating the audience for not being loud enough on his command. Even when he loses his train of thought, he delivers it with such power you can't help but love him for it. I didn't like the way he kept spitting on the stage, though, but maybe that's what they do in Sweden, like a dog leaving his scent.

While Pelle is the definite centre of attention, he is only one part of the band. Each member stands out musically and individually despite being costumed similarly. Their music is powerful and driven, the drums, bass, and guitars coordinating to increase our heart rate, and I would have loved to bounce about in that crowd. At the end, the band took their bows to the Carly Simon track "Nobody Does It Better." On tonight's evidence, I'd have to agree. 

Ticket Price: £38.50.

Video Link Bogus Operandi

Video Link: Hate to Say I Told You So

Video Link: Tick Tick Boom 

Setlist

Bogus Operandi

Main Offender

Take Back the Toys

Two Kinds of Trouble

Rigor Mortis Radio

Walk Idiot Walk

Good Samaritan

Go Right Ahead

Stick Up

Hate to Say I Told You So

Trapdoor Solution 

I'm Alive

Bigger Hole to Fill

Die, All Right!

Won't Be Long

Try It Again

Countdown to Shutdown

Encore:

Come On!

Smoke & Mirrors

Tick Tick Boom 

Outro music

Nobody Does It Better (Carly Simon)

One of the Ninja Roadies on percussion

GICF Comedy Gala. King's Theatre, Glasgow. Saturday 30th March, 2024

Another solo gig for me, with my wife still recuperating from Covid. When I arrived, the auditorium was not yet open, so I made for the upstairs bar. Looking around, I noticed the walls had framed photos of famous actors and signs indicating the year they performed at the venue. For example, Michael Caine trod the boards there in 1959. Not a lot of people know that. I meant to snap a few of them to post here, but it was too busy. 

I had plenty of legroom on the front row of the Grand Circle, not just because of my missing wife. There was one seat free on my right and two more on my left. I must have appeared like a right Jonny No Mates, which was why it felt so good to notice a former colleague also on the Grand Circle. At the interval, I texted to confirm it was her, and then we chatted at the back. It's always nice to see a friendly face.

Susie McCabe was the gala's host. In the first half, she introduced Billy Kirkwood, Kiri Pritchard-McLean, Stuart McPherson, Jin-Hao Li, Susan Riddell, and Craig Hill. They each received five-minute slots, and all performed well (although many of them opened with How are you doing, Glasgow? - Were they not listening to our previous answer?). I was most impressed by Jin-Hao Li, who has a great delivery and a unique style. One to watch (and listen to, obviously).  

The second half featured Luisa Omielan, Zara Gladman, Rosco McClelland, Raymond Mearns, and Janey Godley (last year's recipient of the Sir Billy Connolly Spirit of Glasgow Award). Luisa came across well, with some excellent material. It was harder to get into Zara Gladman as she is a character act, and I didn't know her work. Janey has always been a force of nature, but now, with her cancer diagnosis, she is totally unleashed and terrifyingly funny. The top act of the afternoon, in my opinion. 

The afternoon finished with the presentation of this year's Spirit of Glasgow Award. After an introduction by the festival organiser, Elaine C Smith announced the winner, with Janey Godley handing the award to Susie McCabe. There was a touching video from Sir Billy, which made Susie quite emotional. We left the gala with the PA system playing If It Wisnae fur yer Wellies, which brought another smile to the crowd's faces. 

Susie, with the other nominees.

I was surprised to learn that the festival is run by a core team of just five people. Maybe once I retire, I should investigate how to get involved. With a staff discount, I could save a fortune on tickets.

Ticket Price: £24.10 each plus £3.95 transaction fee from ATG.         

Kieran Hodgson, 'Big In Scotland', King's Theatre, Glasgow. Friday 29th March, 2024

This show was on my list to see at last year's Edinburgh Fringe, but I somehow didn't get around to it. So, when this performance was announced as part of the GICF, I immediately purchased two tickets, snagging front-row Grand Circle seats. Brilliant!

Then I noticed the date. This was the same night Elaine C Smith was playing the King's. Surely they couldn't have double-booked the theatre. There must be some mistake. Ah, yes, mine. Her show starts at eight o'clock, this one at six. I'm working till six. Bugger, bugger, bugger, bollocks.

Fortunately, I was able to swap my holidays around to get the day off. Phew!

On the week of the show, two things happened. My wife caught Covid (contrary to Tory propaganda, it hasn't gone away). And I hurt my back, giving me the kind of intense spasms that make me look like an old man being electrocuted whenever my pain relief wears off. 

I hoped my wife would recover, and, indeed, she tested negative on the day, but she couldn't go, still too washed out to attend, so I went on my own. If nothing else, I could use the spare legroom for stretching if my back tightened. I promised her I'd bring home a Chinese takeaway afterwards, given my cooking skills would only give her food poisoning on top of her lingering covid symptoms. 

I drove into Glasgow listening to Radiohead's OK Computer (OKNOTOK 1997, 2017 edition), an album by a band my wife detests. Their song, Karma Police, was in my head, having just watched episode three of the 3 Body Problem.

I planned to pay to park on the street for an hour or so until parking became free at 6 p.m. Then I saw the charge: £1.40 for fifteen minutes? Hell, no. It was cheaper than a multi-storey, but still way too expensive. 

Then it occurred to me that parking charges are really just a form of insurance. You pay to protect yourself from the risk of a possible parking ticket. I weighed up the chances of a warden appearing at that time of night, then sat in the car for another fifteen minutes, listening to more of the album before heading to the venue, keeping an eye out for parking attendants. The way I was hobbling, having sat in the car for that little bit longer, I could have probably convinced them I'd forgotten my non-existent blue disabled badge.

My colleagues may be surprised to learn you CAN enjoy the theatre with a bad back.

The music playing prior to the show was quite catchy: Manic Street Preachers as I arrived, then Catatonia next. I figured Kieran for a fan of 90s pop music. This was followed by Tom Jones with Stereophonics and Charlotte Church, and I noticed a theme emerging. Shirley Bassey came next, finishing with Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out For A Hero. This show was "Big In Scotland", right? Not "Big In Wales"? 

Dressed in the red tartan jacket from the promotional material, Kieran bounded onto the stage and regaled us with the theme of the show, explaining that he was now, in fact, Scottish despite being born in Yorkshire and previously living in London. Quickly, I realised this wasn't stand-up. This was theatre but with jokes. Essentially an extended monologue, I sensed even the asides to the audience were rehearsed. 

We learned what he was like before he got the part of Gordon in Two Doors Down (or Next Door But One, as one character refers to it) and how he felt he needed to change, having let down a close friend with an inappropriate best-man speech. He then escorted us on his journey to becoming a better person, to becoming Scottish. It was slick, beautifully performed and very funny. It had the important through-line that ex-PM Gordon Brown expected, tied up all the narrative threads, completed his character arc and even finished with a punchline that explained the music playing before the show. This show definitely deserved its 2023 Edinburgh Award nomination.  

  

Even better, I didn't get a parking ticket. That's £4.20 saved towards a future fine. 

Ticket Price: £20.50 plus transaction fees (£3.95) from ATG.

I don't know where the hoop screw came from
but I knew it shouldn't be on the ledge

Yonaka, "Welcome To My House" Tour, SWG3 TV Studios, Glasgow. Monday 25th March, 2024

I am now officially an old man. This was the first time I felt the gig belonged to a different generation—the "Sertraline Generation", epitomised by piercings, tattoos, dyed hair, and sad eyes. Not that I felt unwelcome or unsafe - other adults were present accompanying their teenage daughters - but when the support act instructs the audience to open up a mosh pit, and they willingly comply, the space taking up almost the entire dancefloor, it's time to walk away. I felt like a fringe wallflower, watching as four males bounced about, knocking into one another like trainee wrestlers. I must have missed that dance class.  

This mosh nonsense upset my usual routine, where I plant myself in my carefully selected spot for optimum viewing. With every reset, as people returned to the middle, new tall people or phone wankers landed in front of me. I was well out of my comfort zone.

The first support act was Mimi Barks. She erupted onto the stage in what, to me, looked like a gimp costume: all in black leather with a spiky hood and mask. She screamed, swore, kicked and headbanged like a teenager who needs therapy. Her music is the audible equivalent of a tantrum. Before she left the stage, she finished by telling us, "Fuck you." Not "Thank you", as a polite young woman would say. 

I am not her demographic market.

The second act was Noisy, a wannabe Prodigy-style combo. They were quite good, the frontman establishing his credentials early on with some fine rapping. His constant instructions, like an irritating DJ, grated after a while - "Make some fucking noise", "That's what I'm talking about", "Put your hands in the air", oh, and "Fuck Monday" (middle finger raised in the air). He engaged his audience, though, even coming down into the crowd, getting everyone to crouch down mid-song so they could all jump in the air together. I resisted. My knees and back are too far gone for all that nonsense. 

Or so I thought.

Yonaka shone tonight. Theresa Jarvis can actually sing (not just scream or rap). She has quite a presence on stage, and the crowd loved her. The males in the band are quite striking, too. The place totally rocked. 

For one song, Theresa also came into the crowd, skipping around the mosh pit, and then gestured for everyone to crouch. This time, practically everyone complied, leaving me and about three others still standing. So I had to creak down, wondering if my back would let me back up again. Fortunately, the music was so loud that no one could hear the ooof sound I made as I rose. 

I'd love to see Yonaka again in a larger venue where the moshpit didn't take up the bulk of the audience space. I'd also like to hear them play for longer. The gig finished just after 10 instead of the advertised 10.30, perhaps so their younger audience could catch public transport home again. It was a school night, after all. (However, most of the audience was older than that).

Ticket Price: £25 plus fees (£64 for the pair, plus souvenir ticket).

Setlist:

By the Time You’re Reading This (link to YouTube video)

Greedy

Punch Bag

Call Me a Saint

Creature

Don't Wait 'Til Tomorrow

Hands Off My Money

PANIC

Welcome to My House

I Want More

Give Me My Halo (Acoustic)

PREDATOR

Clique

Rockstar

Encore:

Seize the Power (link to YouTube video).

Photos 

Branded

 

Ed Gamble, 'Hot Diggity Dog' Tour, King's Theatre, Glasgow. Sunday 24th March 2024

The audience is considerably younger than last night's crowd. There are lots of dating couples clutching armfuls of theatre-bought drinks and snacks, indicating they are still in that early romantic stage of their relationship where extravagant gestures (and by that, I mean purchases) matter. I'm sitting one seat over in the same row of the Grand Circle as last night. My wife isn't there, having tested positive for Covid earlier (yes, that's still a thing), so a mate agreed to step in instead at the last minute (ish). I'm not letting him buy me snacks at those prices, though. We've known each other too long.

Ed has made more of an effort than Frank by bringing along a stage backdrop. With Elvis Ed spraying himself with mustard and Posh Boy Ed messily munching on a hot dog, Ed's name is hung in between, surrounded by dice and a diamond ring, giving us an inkling about what his material will be about tonight. 

Before we get to Ed, though, there is a support act. It's someone called Sam Lake (I'd never heard of him either), a comedian so camp that he can't finish a sentence without placing his hand on his (facial) cheek. He spends half his set introducing himself (he is married to a man named David), and the other half doing crowd work with the front row. 

We get the usual questions - "What's your name?" and "What do you do?" - followed by some comedic reaction riffs. One doesn't go to plan, though. The "homemade" (as her mother puts it) twenty-five-year-old daughter admits she doesn't work. "Ooh, taking after your lazy mum," Sam quips. "Why don't you work?" he asks accusingly. "I'm disabled," she replies. The audience audibly takes a sharp intake of breath. How is he going to dance around this one? Sam steps in a circle around the stage and then asks, "Which disabilities do you have?" "Multiple," comes the reply. He winces and asks, moving on, if the man beside her is her brother. "Yes," she replies."He's normal."  

Sam doubles over. "Gosh, I hope no one is recording this. I don't want to get cancelled."

For a support act, his interactions certainly warmed the audience. He was a bit light on actual material, though.   

Ed is a huge heavy metal fan. His pre-show (and interval) playlist consists entirely of metal tracks. Cleverly, he uses Motorhead's Ace of Spades to rev up the crowd before he comes on, repeating the record at the point it says his name, Gamble. 

He starts off with his own crowd work, uncovering a situation in which a daughter is sitting in the front row with her recently fired from Wagamama boyfriend, but her mother is up in the Upper Circle with a deep-voiced someone who is not her partner (we subsequently find out her partner, Alan, is there, too).

After this had been fully mined, we're off, with Ed barely pausing for breath as he steamrolls us through his set, covering topics like his posh boy persona, how the subjects he has previously mocked he has ended up doing (vaping, getting married), his Street's WhatsApp chat group, his honeymoon in Vegas and his feelings towards their pet cat.

It's a professional set with callbacks in all the right places. There are not a lot of surprises, but it's still a good, solid, loud hour or so of comedy. My ears are still ringing with laughter.

Ticket Price £26.50.

Flyer (front)

Flyer (back)