Bob Doolally: Straight in the Bawbag

Considering the state of Scottish football, it’s just as well ex-player, ex-manager and serial ex-husband Bob Doolally has a sense of humour. Paul Sneddon’s foul-mouthed, vodka-slugging "nearly man" of the game is among the best-loved characters in Scottish comedy and tonight, in an ill-fitting wig and iller-fitting blazer, he swaggers out to a hero’s welcome. If you think you’ll find the Tartan Army at the Tattoo or a Csaba László symphony at the EIF, then Doolally might as well spend 90 minutes speaking Swedish through his arse. It’s a show about Scottish football, for Scottish football fans.

As mouthy as any dugout tyrant, Doolally tunes into the average fan’s bitterness and fickle loyalty, telling them exactly what they want to hear. Though the set is mainly cheap digs at clapped-out players and tabloid fodder, his commitment to the character is so complete that simply slurring 'fair play' as “feyur pleeuy” is enough to incite hysterics. That he can improvise a decent gag about Third Division washouts speaks volumes for his knowledge of the sport, while his fantasy Special Olympics squad is inspired (not a prosthetic limb in sight, naturally). It’s distinctly old-fashioned and unashamedly lowbrow, but any bad taste remains largely in good humour.

Hours before the show, I overheard two locals grumbling about how "this place doesn’t belong to us anymore". Yet here, the crowd is overwhelmingly Scottish, male and working-class; it’s exactly why comedy like this — once mainstream, now alternative — is a vital element of the festival, and why Doolally will prevail.