December 7, 2009
John Bishop is what you might call a rising star in comedy, having really only appeared on the circuit in the last three years, during which time he’s risen to the heady heights of Michael McIntyre’s road show. He has also fulfilled his personal dream of playing for Liverpool at Anfield (albeit for a charity match) – a subject that provided material for a video that introduced the show; a montage of interviews with various football celebrities, commenting on the comedian in his new incarnation as a footballing legend.
Bishop’s working-class roots in Runcorn also proved to be a comedy mine, whereby dyslexia was likened to Welsh spelling (“they just wouldn’t get Countdown”) and high aspirations meant working at the local chippy. Still, Bishop confesses he’s done well for himself, although he couldn’t believe the North Wall venue was part of a school (“it’s got gun turrets!”).
Oxford, as he informed the audience, was known as “slow to warm up” on the comedy circuit – yet tonight he admitted that, if anything, we needed calming down. Bishop certainly fed on the crowd’s enthusiasm and happily mocked the front row, including a man he’d derided several years ago at the Edinburgh Festival for wearing a bum bag. Indeed, much of the humour was improvised (much more skilful than regurgitated one-liners), such as the response to a history student, “that’s a nightmare isn’t it, there’s just more of it tomorrow”, and the complicity with fellow middle-aged men “living the dream” of football, despite being well past their best-before dates.
Other topics included budget airlines, his son’s pubescent voice-breaking (“it’s like having Scooby Doo in the house”), middle-age (“why does God mock us men? ‘Losing hair on your head are you – here you go then, have some more…in your ears!’”), Celebrity Mastermind (“apparently, ‘holidays I’ve been on’ doesn’t count as a specialist subject”), Guantanamo Bay (“mark my words, they’ll be a surplus of orange jumpsuits hitting TK-Max in a few years”) and the Kitchen Utensil of the Year Awards.
The link to Elvis which, apart from a musical interlude during the refreshment break, seemed a little tenuous at first, was actually a clever link to Bishop’s own sense of impending middle-age. Realising one night that he was the same age as Elvis when the King had died, his life took on a new meaning (“I couldn’t take a dump for four days”) and he researched the legend (“he’s actually part-Scottish, although I’m sure he wouldn’t have been named the king of rock ‘n’ roll if he’d had a big ginger quiff”). He also discovered that, at the current rate of increase, in 30 years’ time, one in three Americans will be Elvis impersonators!
Bishop’s humour was infectious because it was born out of everyday experiences (trying to impress his kids, pretending to his dad that he understood car mechanics). His Elvis-inspired show was a great evening’s entertainment and proved that John Bishop is certainly one to watch.
Bishop’s working-class roots in Runcorn also proved to be a comedy mine, whereby dyslexia was likened to Welsh spelling (“they just wouldn’t get Countdown”) and high aspirations meant working at the local chippy. Still, Bishop confesses he’s done well for himself, although he couldn’t believe the North Wall venue was part of a school (“it’s got gun turrets!”).
Oxford, as he informed the audience, was known as “slow to warm up” on the comedy circuit – yet tonight he admitted that, if anything, we needed calming down. Bishop certainly fed on the crowd’s enthusiasm and happily mocked the front row, including a man he’d derided several years ago at the Edinburgh Festival for wearing a bum bag. Indeed, much of the humour was improvised (much more skilful than regurgitated one-liners), such as the response to a history student, “that’s a nightmare isn’t it, there’s just more of it tomorrow”, and the complicity with fellow middle-aged men “living the dream” of football, despite being well past their best-before dates.
Other topics included budget airlines, his son’s pubescent voice-breaking (“it’s like having Scooby Doo in the house”), middle-age (“why does God mock us men? ‘Losing hair on your head are you – here you go then, have some more…in your ears!’”), Celebrity Mastermind (“apparently, ‘holidays I’ve been on’ doesn’t count as a specialist subject”), Guantanamo Bay (“mark my words, they’ll be a surplus of orange jumpsuits hitting TK-Max in a few years”) and the Kitchen Utensil of the Year Awards.
The link to Elvis which, apart from a musical interlude during the refreshment break, seemed a little tenuous at first, was actually a clever link to Bishop’s own sense of impending middle-age. Realising one night that he was the same age as Elvis when the King had died, his life took on a new meaning (“I couldn’t take a dump for four days”) and he researched the legend (“he’s actually part-Scottish, although I’m sure he wouldn’t have been named the king of rock ‘n’ roll if he’d had a big ginger quiff”). He also discovered that, at the current rate of increase, in 30 years’ time, one in three Americans will be Elvis impersonators!
Bishop’s humour was infectious because it was born out of everyday experiences (trying to impress his kids, pretending to his dad that he understood car mechanics). His Elvis-inspired show was a great evening’s entertainment and proved that John Bishop is certainly one to watch.