Bratchy: Beer and Loathing and Lost Wages

If a show is free, can gags still be cheap? David Bratchpiece – aka Bratchy – is back at the Fringe with what sounds like a great (and free!) show, but unfortunately the name of the show is the best bit (the second best bit is that it’s free).

It’s a shame that the ‘puntastic’ title is such a miss-sell but therein lies the danger: when you allude to a seminal novel in your show title, you raise expectations somewhat. Despite all the potential, Bratchy never capitalises on the wealth of obvious material he could leverage off the back of such great word play, and fails to even tell a story or hark to a theme throughout the entire set.

He does score some unexpected hits from atypical musings on the Weegie culture, and being heavy handed with obscenities seems to put him at ease on a stage where he looks otherwise uncomfortable. But Bratchy is no Ed Byrne, let alone Raoul Duke or Dr Gonzo, and the show is certainly no Savage - or comic - Journey Into the Heart of the Glaswegian Dream.