Glasgow Comedy Festival

Miles Jupp: Songs of Freedom

King's Theatre, Glasgow

Marianne Gunn

four stars

MILES Jupp has first world problems. If the real bee in his bonnet is the Duchy Originals biscuit range, it is pretty clear he has led a pretty charmed life thus far. Since his Balamory days, a few things have changed: he now lives in South Wales where he is the father of five children, who all sound like they could be extras on Grumpy Old People, and he is more Waitrose than Wetherspoons at heart. The constant that follows him around like a "pink, castle-shaped albatross" was the making of his acting/comedic career, but "Archie" has grown up now and is less a 37-year-old public school boy and more potty-mouthed, "middle-aged" moaning man.

His many moans are – thankfully – very, very funny. His obvious intelligence is displayed in the subtle craft of his almost two-hour stand-up set (great value for money by any Comedy Festival standards). Jupp's delivery is also pretty masterful, as his softly-spoken swearing packs much more of a punch than the ranting, angry-man style of other comedians. Being mistaken for a trainspotter? Been there. Getting blind drunk reviewing a restaurant? Done that. Receiving a bitingly harsh knock back from his own wife? He's got the T-shirt.

Likeability factor is high with Jupp – middle-class musings from a North Face jacket wearing, over-sized Duke of Edinburgh participant pretty much sums him up perfectly. His way with words is poetic at times, and his personal brand is very much cerebral over physical. His "Songs of Freedom" actually encapsulate his own existence so well, that it's evident to anyone with half a brain that he has next to nothing to moan about.