Glasgow International Comedy Festival review by Jay Richardson

Glaswegian song and sketch trio Weegie Hink Ae That? are testimony to the appeal of localised comedy, boosted by going viral online. Of seeing your ain folk and foibles represented.

A year ago, Gregor Mackay, Conor Hardie and Elliot Hannigan were performing to 40 people. Since then, they've appeared at Scotfest in the US and in September, they're playing Glasgow's Pavilion Theatre, with a capacity just shy of 1,500. Knockabout, rascally scamps in shellsuits, their guitar-backed humour clearly strikes a chord in their home city, with this weekend’s Glasgow International Comedy Festival show at The Stand comedy club completely sold out.

That Mackay breaks off at one point to hand his watching mum a Mother's Day card in case he forgets the following day, is a funny, endearing gesture. And it's a good indication of just how locally rooted the trio are. Their Glasgow, and to a significant extent, their Scotland, is a familiar, rough and ready place, where you're never too far from being threatened with a knife or over-indulging in junk food and Buckfast.

Indeed, Aberdeen is exotic by their standards, an opening tune about the gargantuan seagulls living there typical of their songs. A more-or-less straightforwardly literal account of these terrifying winged monsters, sung in pleasant harmony, it finishes with a crude visual image that calls to mind Thor the walrus' recent visit to UK coasts and his lack of shame before the cameras.

This show blends the Weegies’  club set, old and new material, and  it's striking how many of their routines end in masturbation or violent defecation, with the dropped trousers not always metaphorical. Nothing wrong with a bit of scatological humour – Phil Wang and Pierre Novellie have a cult podcast devoted in large parts to it – but it's hard to shake the impression that Mackay, Hardie and Hannigan start reaching below their belts whenever premises appear to be wearing out their welcome.

A case in point would be Hardie's audition for a TV commercial for a well-known high street bakers chain, his over-the-top, luvviesh interpretation in contrast to the modest pasties and savouries being promoted and advert director Hannigan's indifference to anything bar getting the shoot wrapped quickly.

Ultimately, the pretentious actor grows too graphically enamoured of the flaky foodstuff. But Hannigan's protests ring hollow. Despite his outrage, any normal person would have taken his unsubtle direction to mean do something unspeakable to the pie. Weegie don't seem to do subtext – a song about the shiteness of Scotrail is essentially just that and no more - with the laughs invariably relying on how hard they shove the punchlines into the front row's faces.

To their credit, the trio segue smoothly from one skit to another, generally without fanfare, even if sometimes a bit of signposting might be helpful.

And they have strong chemistry. Mackay, with his self-confessed weirdly distanced eyes is a natural focal point and chief spokesperson. The smaller, bearded Hardie tends to be the disruptive agent of chaos, the obvious choice to get his top off or be a ridiculously attired genie. Hannigan meanwhile, the guitarist and ostensibly the straightman as the most conventionally good-looking, is nevertheless capable of summoning a deep rasp and tends to play the more threatening characters.

Within these roles though, there's enough crossover to keep the interplay interesting and they improvise and chat to the crowd with practised, engaging ease.

So Weegie don't lack charisma and they're fully committed to their skits. Moreover, their success demonstrates that they're obviously hitting some sort of zeitgeist. Nevertheless, the material is stretched desperately thin in places. 'Scottishified songs', reimagining John Denver's great hit as Cunty Roads or Tiffany's chart-topper as I Think We're in Govan, never come close to being redeemed by tuneful nailing of the melodies.

They seem aware of their limitations. A song denouncing Scottish stereotypes is disclaimed by them acknowledging just how many of these they lean upon themselves, alongside an honestly shared admission that 'we're just tapping into pre-existing patter'.

Having the cheek and the will to transplant that from Glaswegian streets to the stage is part of the battle. And they're young enough to have time on their side. Still, it feels like Weegie's writing needs to improve drastically if they're to really capitalise on their rapid career ascent.

Review date: 19 Mar 2023
Reviewed by: Jay Richardson
Reviewed at: Glasgow Stand