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Magners Best Of The Fest, Glasgow The Stand

March 13, 2009 Comedy No Comments
Magners Best Of The Fest

Magners Best Of The Fest

March 12th, 2009

I certainly had my eyes opened tonight. Up until now I’ve only thought of Fred MacAulay, on compere duty here at the Glasgow Magners Comedy Festival, as Ken Bruce-in-waiting, being carefully groomed at BBC Scotland to eventually occupy the elder broadcaster’s seat at Radio 2.

After his initial introductory stint, though, I’ll never be able to look at Donald Duck or Porky Pig in the same light again. Revelation number two came when he swore. It was like witnessing a Blue Peter presenter do the same. Fair play as he had the audience in stitches, roasted a few members to varying degrees (as ever some were comedic gifts from God – such as the girl who attempted to obscure the fact that she was from Grantham, cue a bout of Thatcher-bashing, and the lass who confused Kilkenny with Letterkenny) and managed to let off the steam that he can’t get rid of through his day job. Plus anyone that rips into Bono gets top marks in my book.

The first act on was Mark Nelson, of Glasgow by way of Dumfries. Totally unknown to me but definitely a good start to proceedings. Wandering on-stage looking as if he’d slept in his suit, he raised a lot of laughs with his drolly delivered set of equal parts deviant behaviour (jokes about rather than actions - let me be clear) and life lessons. Clearly a man with an eye for the ironic side of human existence.

Second on the bill was another new name to me – Eleanor Tiernan. A rather nervy girl but funny nonetheless, with a good line in subtly delivered secondary punchlines. It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen a comic do so many Irish jokes but as she’s a native its obviously the bedrock of her set. Her closing wheelchair anecdote was a little weak.

The last act I managed to see (due to a lack of buses heading east after midnight I was forced to skedaddle before Reginald D. Hunter came on, a real shame seeing as he’s clearly well at the top of his game) was Des Clarke, the token Weegie, as he himself said. I pretty much knew what to expect from him and, other than a more adult countenance than the last time I saw him perform, he delivered in spades. Quick-fire repartee with bold jokes and a decidedly subversive line in bizarre impersonations. A treat every time.

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