Tracy Barlow’s Tits!!

Well, as Toby said, "I found out the colour of adrenaline, and it's brown!" We nearly had a minor disaster on our hands last Tuesday but thanks to Toby’s expertise as a compere we had another blinder!

First up was supposed to be Gary Delaney, but due to the accident that is Birmingham, we kicked the night off with my mate and yours, Toby 'please let one of the comics walk through the door now' Hadoke.

Toby has a massive database of gags and so kept the crowd happy until the jug-eared Manc that is Tony Skip walked in. Poor Tony, hardly got chance to get a pint before he was on stage.

Tony, who mugs students for a living, was, and still is, the ‘cock’ of the first year. The older lads tried to flush his head down the bog but his comedy ears kept him lodged above the rim. [OO-ER!! - Spider].

Tony had a good set with some good material. He had some interesting ideas on improving the quality of animal porn, and I liked the United/City stuff and heckle of the gig award goes to your Webmaster. Tony made a good start to what was going to be a memorable night.

Because we were waiting for the first two acts to arrive, we had the chips and cocktail sausages after the Skipmeister's set. And not only did we get salt on the chips, we had the luxury of tomato sauce! Next week, caviar, oysters and free blowjobs!

After the chips the two missing acts finally arrived. And they were definitely worth the wait!

First up, the mighty Gary Delaney. Gary’s act consists solely of one-liner puns not dissimilar to the god-like Stewart Francis. Style-wise, Garry is much more laid back in his delivery, big pauses between the lines, which normally wouldn’t have worked. But Gary made it work a treat. You needed a second or two between the lines to let them sink and to fully enjoy them.

One of the Malarkey tribe described Mr Delaney as the "working man’s Jimmy Carr". (Note. Sorry to the lad who said that, I’m useless with names. If you send us your name I’ll put it in. Ta.)

I’m gonna stick my neck out here, but I actually enjoyed Gary’s set MORE than Stewart Francis. It was one the best we have seen at the Malarkey. Now whether Gary could have done a spot as long as Stewart remains to be seen. I’m looking forward to a repeat performance. Check out Gary’s homepage www.jinx.co.uk

In short, I laughed my bollocks off!

Next up, Gary’s travelling companion, the Irishman Caimh McDonnell. Caimh, whose father was a badger, and mother loved all God's creatures, is flummoxed by the fact that there are flying instructions inside the in-flight mags on aeroplanes. Seems to him that it’s just an invite to the terrorists. Got a point I reckon.

Caimh went down well with the Malarkey crowd and he had lots decent material and a confident delivery. Especially after the nightmare drive he had just had from London. I don’t whether it was just me (and I was a little inebriated) but I struggled a little with Caimh’s accent so I think some of his material was probably wasted.

In the short break another heckler decided to pick a fight with Toby 'heckle and I will make you lick the cheese from my helmet' Hadoke. It was a bird called Kate who was sat on the table next to me and had been chatting like a Tamara for the most of Caimh’s set. Then when Toby had a go, she got all upset and called him rude! Yes he’s rude, and you fuckin’ well deserved it.

In the spirit of having more faces than Big Ben, (or PR as I call it), I actually went and had a chat with her in the break to make friends. Am I an arse kisser or what?

The final act of the evening was Malarkey regular, Mick Ferry. Due to the delay, Mick was noticeably pissed by the time he took to the stage and was swaying like the public support for the war in Afghanistan.

Mick’s material ranged from advice on having a wholesome family Christmas to watching porn in his shower cap, which gave him an idea for improving the National Lottery show. Try having the numbered balls coming out of the holiest of holes of a tidy piece, one after another! I’d buy a ticket then.

Mick didn’t really rely on his material though, he relied on the crowd. Mick’s improvisation skills are first-rate. Reminiscent of Peter Kay in that respect where he could go on for hours with no material but still be hilarious.

Whenever Mick found himself in a comedy cul-de-sac, he just went ape-shit which was riotous to watch and he soon found himself back on the comedy motorway, and nowhere near Birmingham! Even Kate was laughing her tits off.

The added bonus of finishing late was that there was no joke competition to endure. Cheers to the London lads for that.

Toby played a blinder on Tuesday and rescued what could have been a disaster, and turned it in to one of the most unforgettable nights we’ve had at the Malarkey.

Looking forward to Ian Cognito next week. See you then.

Lee.