Edinburgh Fringe Review – Glenn Wool: Wool’s Gold

There felt like a good chance that I was about to miss Glenn Wool when I turned up at the Underbelly box office as I repeated the words, “Glenn Wool” to be answered with “umming” and “arring” leaving me thinking I’d been wearing my dyslexic specs again and got the wrong venue (I am dyslexic). Only to check that I was right and said the words “Wools Gold” only for the box office assistant to finally go, “Oh yeah”.  If anyone is performing for the Underbelly and wondering that there might be a surprisingly amount of empty seats at their performance, you might want to have a word at the box office.

So hands up to admit that I didn’t realise that this was a ‘best of’ show, I just saw Glenn Wool and said yes. I’m usually quite against acts who don’t come to Edinburgh with a new show or are only here for three dates yet still erect a massive poster of themselves everywhere that a satellite can spot. I’ve been lucky enough to see Glenn on and off over the years in Edinburgh and Manchester to be familiar with his material, and thus I am quite fond of him, so half of tonight’s set is familiar territory.

Like my arrival, Glenn’s opening seems rather shaky. He seems rather perturbed by some latecomers unable to find their seat and two particular individuals whereby the only doors they should have been let through were the back of a police van. Some further solid work from the Underbelly staff. Aside from that his words seem a little off cue, with occasional stuttering, which appears to be unlike him and looks a little unconfident, maybe sensing that there might be a lot of the crowd unaware of what to expect.

But as the show grows and despite the fact that the material is from differing years, it all connects well and he regains control of the audience as he demonstrates how he is a black belt in delivery, with his stoner drawl, he can issue the dark material with a pistol silencer by destroying most religious ideologies with a whimsical wand that is somewhat free from aggression but atomically explosive with poignancy.

Whilst there a lot of jokes aimed at the big topics and is unafraid so, he does point out in the end that a lot of the humour is self-deprecating, and is, which brings a bit of heart and almost catharsis to a comedian who is a lot more brilliant than those geared in eye shadow and skinny jeans. At the end of it I can only think that he does merit a best of. Either way, if you have seen him or not and you’re not afraid of dark satire, then you’re in for a treat.



Chris Aitken

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