Review: Dylan Moran, ‘Yeah Yeah’


As he walked on to the stage we- the audience- had to take a minute to get over ourselves. All being big enough fans to splash out on tickets we so trusted him to be hilarious that we laughed at anything, he said something like; “hello, thanks for coming” and we all shat ourselves laughing. But then we took a few breaths, collected ourselves, and he really got down to it.
I won’t do that thing where I write direct quotes from the show and expect you to find them funny out of context and without his refined delivery thus ruining it for you if you ever buy the DVD, but I will say; he was very funny. My face still hurts.

He takes reasonably everyday subjects and talks about them in an abstract way creating a familiar world on the stage, but inside a bowl of surreal jelly. I find it a much more honest way of presenting something imaginative than just quite deliberately attempting to say the most random thing possible for humour like; “Can you imagine walking around with meat on your face?” (I’m looking at you Ross Noble).

As if we didn’t hate the front row people enough for their good fortune of being in the front (not that I had much to complain about as apart from the abnormally tall woman in front of me who seemed to have blow-dried her hair to block out as much of the stage as possible I had a pretty good seat, mind you, I wasn’t going to let that get in the way of me partaking in the unspoken unanimous hatred of those front row idiots), what was I saying? Sorry, yes, as if we didn’t hate them enough already a bunch of them where having a big old chat in the first half! I couldn’t actually hear them but I was outraged on behalf of those who could. Anyway, they where asked to leave in the interval and I’d like to think they went away with that horrible feeling that the party of people they had just left where slagging them off in their absents, but I suspect they didn’t have enough self awareness for that.

By the second half he’d got himself a bar of chocolate and he wandered over to it a couple of times to cram several squares into his mouth before continuing.
A highlight for me was when he spoke about knee bends as a good form of exercise, which demonstrated as he spoke, the beauty of it being I couldn’t tell if it was part of his scripted act or if he just had a bit of a stiff knee and felt the need to talk about why he’s suddenly crouched down and got up again without warning.

But apart from that brief aerobics session he doesn’t really feel the need to wave his arms, or hop up and down or fling himself around the stage like, for example, a certain Mr. Macintyre, but instead happily works on our impression that he is clawing his way out of a massive hang over and if he did try any of that active stuff we’d probability have to call him an ambulance.

The back drop to this all was a big screen showing some of Dylan’s drawings and paintings in a slow slide show, which I have to say I found a little distracting at times, no matter haw funny you’re being the slow materialisation of a gargantuan abstract face behind you can make attentiveness slip. Some of the drawings had notations with them, which no doubt where very amusing but I couldn’t read them. Dylan, you’re face hurting funny, but your hand writing sucks. Your Gs look like Ls.
Gwen.

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About Gwen and Elinor

Two bloging buddies who love tea and biscuits.
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