Dylan Moran - Opera House, Blackpool
Looking delightfully dishevelled and more than a little confused by the sheer size of his surrounding (“how big is this stage?) Dylan Moran greeted the 600 or so audience members at his first headlining Blackpool show and explained he had deliberately “uninvited” the other 2,400 who would have filled the venue.
Not for him the stadiums favoured by the likes of Michael McIntyre he explained – and not just because his own children find the Britain’s Got Talent judge funnier (and nicer) than him.
Sipping from a surprisingly trendy glass of rose wine which he insists is home made, Moran adopted his now familiar hybrid of slightly tipsy raconteur and world weary bloke down the pub approach to reveal he’d done a bit of research about the resort.
“Eight car parks, 12 mobility centres and nine army recruitment offices” might not be quite how the new Labour council view their domain, though hey might have to concede an element of truth in the “Orwellian and triffid like street lights clearly designed to scare children and send out green death rays” not to mention “glitter kebabs” and “seagulls that cough.”
Most of his routine though is a carefully honed surreal monologue carefully disguised as middle aged meanderings. Clearly he’s too young (and successful) to actually worry too much about a mid life crisis but it makes for good ammunition even when, by now, clad in an ill fitting and oh-so ironic “I love Blackpool” hoodie.
Never admit to the Black Books and Sean of the Dead star that you like heavy metal or are a vegan. Never tell him you love your job or look forward to attending dinner parties arranged by your wife or middle management friends. And never, ever let him see you dance. But do catch him if he ever comes back for another night on the town.