Disparaging footballer John Terry and his “ilk”, Simon Evans wants to be a more positive role model for his children.
Simon Evans - Oran Mor, Glasgow
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Notwithstanding a bloody incident with a rat and a clawhammer however, he’s forsaken his claim to be a manly example, teaching them the snobbish application of swearing and forcibly imposing his love of the classics on their education.
Scotch in hand, this relaxed, extended version of his Edinburgh Fringe show suits the measured build-up of his accomplished storytelling, his cruel wit and sly sarcasm revealed with just enough twinkle in the eye to reassure you that he’s not a complete monster.
Call it charm, but the successive comparisons he makes between Florida theme parks and another processed gathering of humanity from history come across as wry rather than gratuitously harsh. He wields language like a rapier and trusts his ability to keep an audience hanging on for the punchline. Despairing of fairytales as much as contemporary sportsmen, he instead seeks to inspire his five-year-old son with a straightforward account of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s heroism, relying on the disparity between the explorer’s incredible stoicism and a sane reaction to the misfortune that befalls him. An endearing elitist, Evans’ persona eludes the easy stereotyping of stand-ups as a left-liberal mass, for something less predictable and richer. His 90-minute set could have been tighter in places but that scarcely merits a mention.