Review by Steve Bennett

Des McLean’s show at the Glasgow comedy festival seems to have suffered from this. He talks amiably, spontaneously, and at great length – just as his Clyde 1 day job requires of him – but when it comes to sharp, focussed routines, he only has a couple of well-tested segments from his club routine to fall back on; which in two hours of chat seems nowhere near enough.

His wireless fame, however, has also brought him an audience that are happy to indulge this. There’s the distinct feeling they’ve primarily come to the prestigious, and sizeable, Theatre Royal to see their friend from the airways in the flesh, rather than in the expectation of top-flight, cutting-edge comedy. Just hearing him say the naughty words the broadcast watchdogs wouldn’t condone seems to delight them.

He literally gets a chuckle from anything, even the set-ups: ‘On a bus only pensioners talk to you [laugh]… and drunks [laugh].’ When people are laughing at such lines that are neither insightful nor funny, the pressure is off for the rest of the show. It’s rather too easy for him.

As a result, Talkin Aboot is very flabby – especially his distracted attempts to get into some of his trains of thought, and a couple of very long parodies of Billy Connolly’s World Tour Of Scotland that top each half. These films, which you could see for free on YouTube, are good-natured rather than hilarious; and the same goes for much of McLean’s banter.

He could talk the hind legs off a donkey, but too often what he’s talking about are observations anyone could have made; with not enough twist to elevate them into comic gems you might want to pay £15 to hear. Raising an eyebrow at the banality of Richard and Judy, listing the contents of the ‘shite drawer’ [a pale imitation of a similar routine by Irish comic Jimeoin] or complaining about being asked to supersize his meal in McDonald’s seem disappointingly underpowered.

What McLean does bring to the table, when he applies himself, is a formidable performance skill. He can bring routines to life, and make them far more memorable than the content alone would really justify. Every character that populates his anecdotes is given an entertainingly silly voice, from the old codgers to the young neds.

It’s the Burberry brigade that provide the raw material for his best routines, even if they are the target of so many comics besides him. He calls them Plunge McNuggets after a character on his radio show (Mclean often assumes a familiarity with his other work, which with this audience seems to be entirely justified), and he’s devastatingly accurate in mocking everything from their nasal patois to their dancing ability. The title of the show comes from their moody, uninterested grunt of disapproval – as in ‘[what are you] talkin aboot?’, and a brief run-through of a ned Sound Of Music is a highlight… even if he’s done it in previous shows.

Likewise, a tale of posing as unemployed to get free veterinary treatment for his dog is on the button, and beautifully illustrated with his performance. Again, it’s older, proven material.

But for the rest of the show, the substance is too often underwhelming. McLean is great club comic, but here he appears to be treading water with easy, superficial material with too little thought applied to making it special. You might expect the promotion to a big theatre space to have spurred McLean into something brilliant – but he seems to have lowered his game, not raised it.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Glasgow Comedy Festival, March 2008

Review date: 1 Mar 2008
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett