Quarehawk

“‘Im playing again in February“, shouts the sweating Des Bishop at the climax of a longer-than-usual set, “Tell everyone about the show!”

Well alright Des, I’ll do my bit …

It’s a Sunday night and Vicar Street is throbbing. Who’d have thought ? Obviously the true comedy fan doesn’t give a crap about starting their work-week feeling rough.

Vicar Street the venue has a few things going for it. It doesn’t smell (like The Olympia), it isn’t a choking unventilated sweatbox (like The National Stadium), and it isn’t a deathtrap fire-hazard Stardust 2 waiting to happen (like the International Bar). And although you have to drink out of a stupid plastic glass, at least it’s the good solid kind, not the flimsy ones that spill half your drink if you accidentally squeeze. And Des Bishop is due on in 2 minutes says the announcer, and there won’t be a support act. So make your way to your seat immediately…

Well the M.C. was a liar as usual. But 15 minutes later and we’re off.

A standard t-shirt and runners type of performer, Des Bishop is kicking off with a bit of equally standard riffing off the people who haven’t located their seats yet. As you probably know, his angle is to immerse himself in some aspect of Irish life and make funny about it, which is a great original idea that sets him apart. And so, he explains, his current project is learning to speak as Gaeilge, in pursuit of which he’s been living in Connemara for the past few months mixing with the locals. I’m already laughing.

So this show will be a two-parter (With him supporting himself, he jokes).

The first half is about his adventures learning Irish. This is of course, a comedy goldmine (although he wouldn’t be able to take it to, say, The Edinburgh Festival). With his mock Irish accents veering all over the place, he rants and vociferates about the Leaving Cert curriculum, the bizarre grammatical quirks of the language, and the festering boiling hatred so many ex-students of Irish have for their native tongue. Mercifully staying away from that tired old “focal” joke, he still has some good comments about Irish words versus their pronunciation in English (Although here’s one he missed - Isn’t the Irish word for Examiner “Scrudathoir” ? Pronounced “Screw the whore” ?) Anyway, all of this goes straight to the hearts of us boozy 20 and 30 somethings, because nothing resonates like suffering shared. This is the laughter of familiarity. Yeah Des, we remember having to learn all that crap too !! And you have to respect him, because he’s gone and lived it. Here is a man prepared to suffer for his comedy. And there’s even a wanking joke thrown in there.

After the intermission though, it’s even better.

Post-interval we get into his more personal take on Ireland. And it’s fairly affectionate. He gives us his slant on mass, Holy Communion, queuing in the Centra, and the quirks of his grandmother from Cork.

Oh wait.
[Sound of a stylus screeching off the record]

But it isn’t totally flawless. A faint whiff of cowardice on his part keeps seeping through, with Bishop often hedging his bets with mealy-mouthed “If there are any [Members of a certain group] here, I’m not saying I’m right or you’re right but…”. That and he seems to harbour an assumption that a portion of his audience are nitwits. Because he frequently lapses into a patronising “This next bit is going to be intense okay ? “.

His take on Born Again Christians talking in tongues however, is brilliant. Something everyone had vaguely thought but couldn’t have expressed, much less expressed in such a physical and funny way. Which is basically the definition of good stand-up.

Evolution is in there too, along with abortion.

And Jesus, when Des Bishop gets into a routine he kicks the stuffing out of it. Bending double over the mic at times, bellowing red-faced with spittle flying (for which he laughingly apologises to the front row), and gasping for breath at the end of a rant.

Oh what’s this ? He’s criticising the Catholic Church for its stance on gays (Which is a fairly safe tack to take despite all the nonsense we’ve been treated to about similar church-bashing from Tommy Tiernan being “controversial”). But he doesn’t hesitate then to lunge into a mincing offensive gay-stereotype whenever it suits his gag. In fact, some of the biggest laughs of the night come from his limp-wristed John Inman channeling. And it wasn’t just once. And he’s a smart enough guy to see the contradiction in that.

But still, this is a well-crafted show. From a relaxing chatty start, this honorary Irishman has built the energy up and up, until the crowd are lapping up stories about his benefit gigs in America (for immigration reform), and the colourful ex-Irish characters he encountered over there. Bishop is a guy who knows his craft.

Now, for the finale he has hilariously translated a well known song (badly) into Irish, and he brings out his backing DJ and urges the crowd onto their feet to sing and dance along with him. The Vicar Street balconies shudder under the bouncing punters as he lets it rip, flinging himself around the stage. Phew ! Now that’s how you end a comedy gig on a high.

All that’s left is to wonder what aspect of Irish Life remains for Des Bishop to mine next. Living with Travelers ? Cutting turf ? Playing in a Trad band?

Oh and seemingly he got an A1 on his Foundation Level Gaeilge Exam.

So yeah, Des Bishop is playing Vicar Street again in February. Go to see him, you’ll enjoy it.