Who: Fern Brady
Where: XS Malarkey
Why:
Fern Brady doesn’t come across as someone with an aching desire to be liked. There is no validation sought from the darkened recesses of the club. Rather she glares at the audience as they laugh, almost incongruous to their amusement.
Her delivery is a croaky rasp, making her sound older and more wizened than she is. When hushed she verges on sinister, like a slow sung nursery rhyme. It brings to mind the likes of Stade or even Stanhope, albeit a woker West Lothian version.
On the matter of ‘wokeness’, her good politics do not result in tepid humour – the opposite in fact. In pointing out discrimination, there is neither moralising nor righteous indignation. The message is clear: don’t call them a cunt, cos you’re a cunt too.
Much of her material covers politics with a small ‘p’ and the inherent nonsense of prejudice. She has great lines on stripping, homophobia, sexism, and dating outside of your class, whilst mining gems from the fact that her boyfriend literally looks up to her.
Regarding her “tiny little Irishman”, who is “tit height, or shoulder height when he wears his wee walking boots”, Brady is possibly at her best as she describes her ‘intrusive thoughts’ whilst watching him sleep – creepily sweet, sincerely twisted.
Brady is frank and open about her experiences in dealing with mental health, whilst mock-curtsying because it’s Bi Visibility Day, and she is being both bi and visible at the same time. But she never batters you over the head with such topics. You get the sense if she wanted to hurt you, you’d already be dead.
We saw Fern Brady at the XS Malarkey in Manchester. You can find out more about her future dates here.
