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Joy

Òran Mór,Glasgow 

Four stars 

 

Poor Joy. Despite her name, she just can’t see the funny side of life. As a terminally single librarian, her world isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs anyway, especially not in the Emilys section, where Ms’s Bronte and Dickinson provide some kind of comfort. This would be one more thing to blame the parents for if they were around. As Joy makes clear when she goes on a date with a wannabe comedian who tests out his new material on her, however, she just doesn’t get the joke. Or any joke, for that matter. This prompts Joy’s date to suggest she desperately seek help, medical or otherwise, in order to try and find her sense of humour. 

 

We know all this because Joy tells all in a glorious monologue by Morna Young that sees Naomi Stirrat embody our heroine in all her specky, tweedy, geeky glory. Presented as a stand-up show, Alex Fthenakis’ production charts Joy’s progress across a series of routines in a comic memoir that uses everything - warts and all included - as material. 

 

With each tiny scene introduced by a voice from a tannoy captioning it like a Brechtian strip cartoon, Stirrat holds the stage on Heather Grace Currie’s comedy club set with a brilliantly studied sense of deadpan delirium. This gradually gives way to Joy discovering she likes a joke as much as the next woman all along. 

 

This makes for a deliciously observed and pretty much unmissable hour. While tightly and playfully scripted by Young, with Stirrat at the helm and on the mic, it could easily hold its own in an actual comedy club. Carrying a solo like this isn’t easy, but Stirrat delivers with a well-honed confidence that isn’t shy of getting the audience to answer her Knock-Knock gags. The punchline, when it comes, feels unexpected, but like the best gags has been signposted all the way along in a show that is much, much more than a one liner. Pure joy.


The Herald, March 20th 2026

 

Ends 

 

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