Delusions of Candour unashamedly acknowledges the fact that it has no narrative but Jimmy McGhie neatly compensates for this by making a sense of spontaneity the primary charm of his show.
McGhie works fluidly to establish excellent rapport with his audience and this means that all of his jokes have an incredibly personal feel. He is a warm and welcoming comedian and incorporates the life stories of his spectators neatly into his show: every other punchline sources its humour in the fact that it is a shared frame of reference. He can be slightly mocking and sometimes there’s the odd misjudgement of his audience’s character, but everything is generally smoothed over by the fact that Delusions of Candour feels thoroughly good-natured.
On the whole, McGhie is a very entertaining person to watch and listen to. His performance is full of energy and he brings a distinct self-deprecating charisma to the stage. He talks through the disasters of his previous experiences in Edinburgh, the unifying nature of the UK’s weather, cultural stereotypes – there’s little that is particularly original in Delusions of Candour but it is a cheerful ball of easy-going British wit.
Ultimately, the show won’t leave you feeling like you’ve been hit by a wave of hilarity: you won’t find yourself drowning in your tears of mirth, although once or twice McGhie cracks out a line that has someone rolling on the floor in laughter. It’s not consistently side-aching, it is simply a pleasant and engaging hour of being nicely tickled. This is an impressive point considering the entire weight of the show is on McGhie’s shoulders. He uses no props, has no real structure – he doesn’t even hug a bottle of water: it is the cheeky allure of his stage presence that should be credited for the carrying of the show and this is in itself well worth going to see.
