With corny quips, mad singalongs and tributes to his nan, Bolton’s own is back in the groove
SSuch is the adulation in which he is held locally that a standing ovation left him dabbing away tears
tand-up super-star Peter Kay’s last solo show (The Tour That Doesn’t Tour) culminated with the daft sight of the comedian impersonating Freddie Mercury and singing We Are the Champions.
Though we don’t hear it, Under Pressure would seem the perfect Queen track to accompany his follow-up 12 years on, the hiatus protracted by a postponement five years ago for personal reasons. A veil remains drawn over that, though Kay does comically divulge his agonies following the discovery of a kidney stone.
Demand for last night’s first comeback gig, on the home-turf of Manchester (Kay hails from Bolton), was exorbitant – and this tour is gargantuan, stretching way into 2025. Does he seem daunted? Does he ’eck.
If he didn’t seem especially fazed, he was left immediately moved. Such is the adulation in which he’s held locally that a prolonged standing ovation left the notably leaner and even frailerlooking comic dabbing away tears. “You made me cry. I can’t be doing jokes now,” he said.
Anyone worrying that his funny bones would be creakier than usual need rest assured: Kay delivers the goods all over again, albeit they’re similar to what came before. Here again is a roving camera, picking out funny looking audience members, with corny gags, too. The instant emphasis is on old TV ads, and the catchy jingles that pushed sugar on kids, a barbed nostalgia fest that takes in obvious chocolatey suspects.
There are reminiscences about former odd jobs, including as a steward at this arena, mingled with gossipy anecdotes about coaxing Eric Clapton to sign a woefully cheap guitar and the times he has been caught with no clothes on. There are in-jokes about “garlic bread”, and a tribute to his dear-departed nan. Yes, mild incredulous concern is expressed about blights of the modern world – online shopping, mobile phone addiction, and so on – but you’d never know there’s a war on.
And that’s the point – the evening ends in more misheard pop lyrics and a preposterous singalong, the details of which Kay wants us to keep mum about. He’s a kind of surrogate mother figure himself, making us feel safe as houses. It’s good to have him back.