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Photo:
©
Lawrence McNamara 2006 |
Local chap Neil
McFarlane has been performing since 2000. He now gigs, mostly
in support but sometimes as the headline act, in places as
far-flung as Orkney, Aberdeen, Oban, Stirling, Edinburgh, Belfast,
Dublin, Manchester, London, and – just once – San Francisco. And
Peebles. His act combines
wordplay, the surreal, topical material, personal experience, an
unhealthy preoccupation with gin and an increasing ability to
actually talk to the audience off-the-cuff – yes, you heard it
here first (unless you’ve already met him).
Neil is an example of that rare
species – a self-confessed and relatively shameless middle-class
Glaswegian. (Relatively, that is – he still says ‘sorry’ at least
once a minute, even if there’s no one else in the room.)
And he knows what you’re
thinking: “Posh Glaswegian? Do they even exist? What do they eat?”
Well come and meet the arousingly symmetrical McFarlane and maybe
you’ll find out. Maybe you won’t but he’s a frightfully nice
fellow and he’s had all his jabs.
Allow him to divert you from the
horrific truth of your own existential plight, and occasionally
use the word ‘mallard’.
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