HE’S made a career from being the eternal single; a cardigan-wearing sad sack who mums love but females his own age go to great lengths to avoid.
So with the crux of his ‘Nidiot’ tour being his new-found happiness in a relationship, it is only natural to ponder if Jon Richardson will have lost some of his mojo.
But any concerns the Lancashire-born comic has cast aside his own brand of neurotic pessimism, obsessive compulsive tendencies and self-deprecating humour, quickly evaporate in the heat of the Playhouse on Saturday. He is the same Jon as before, only now with someone to share his strange quirks with, like the correct way to load a dishwasher and why they each have their own toothpaste.
The knitwear continued too with a demonstration of the three-layered, all-in-one job he “saved” for the Capital after a gig in Aberdeen the night before.
It is not long before he touches on the unavoidable subject of the moment, suggesting the day Cameron, Farage and Miliband were all up in Scotland was an opportunity missed by England to build a wall and declare its own independence.
He talks us through his trip to America for TV series ‘Real Men’ where Jon insists he was only invited on as the “fanny who will cry”. This is quickly followed by an anecdote about his struggles eating the manliest of crisps, salt and vinegar McCoys, and an encounter with bull testicles that ultimately turn him vegetarian. Even his well-rehearsed “howdy” was not enough to save him from his own predictions.
The second half of the show went on to explain how he came to be sharing a flat in London – or the ‘Westminster establishment’ as he says it is now known in Scotland – in spite of doing his best to muck it up. After being set up by a mutual friend, their second date of a weekend in Portugal becomes a weekend spent on the toilet, which he is naturally surprised isn’t enough to put her off. It is this incessant self-questioning that is the 8 Out of Ten Cats star’s appeal. Only a Nidiot wouldn’t have been in stitches.