The Herald

Friday 16th August 2002

3 Stars

David Kay : Some like a Scone

If you want to hear the one about the Perth scone barons, the Taliban trained donkeys and the rise of the Columbian empire biscuit cartel, head along to The Stand for one of Glasgow's drollest new talents. David Kay attempts completely deadpan delivery, and it took great effort from the surreal stand up to keep schtum as there was an extreme laughter in the small audience - you know the kind, they make a booming guffaw look polite and are usually blonde.

We are guided through the endless chasms of wonderment that exist in Kay's little bespectacled head: the apathetic Spanish rain, the Pope's heavy trance CD release, Inverness's bid for City of Culture status in 3058. But he always returns to his beloved scones, and rightly so, as they make up the basis of our universe. Confused? Don't be. Let Nasa's silver trousered technical director of scones explain all. Get Kay fired up and let him get fruity with you soon. Batch-tastic.

Marrianne Gunn

Three Weeks :

Week Three 4 Stars

David Kay: Some Like a Scone

This Scottish Prince of ultra-deadpan esoteric humour delivers a show of delightful, often bizarre ramblings. Although Kay has no inflection in his voice, doesn't laugh at his own jokes or seem to have any facial expressions, it's hard not to be tickled by stories of - shock horror - cheese scones served with strawberry jam.

This refreshingly original show covers many subjects from Saddam's fondeness for Fingermouse to space travel. Oddly though, scones seem to creep in everywhere. It's the sudden surprises in the momotonous monologue which make this funny, and it's wonderful to see a comic who relies on comedy, rather than crass over swearing, to charm his audience. A sound education in Scottish humour from this daringly deifferent anti-comic.

Scotland on Sunday

Sunday 11th August 2002

Pie eyed young comic shows future potential

By fixating on scones, David Kay perhaps does his sense of the surreal and his oblique observations about Scottish culture a disservice, because he actually possesses the ability to transcend the parochial boundaries.

Which is not to say that the concept of Stephen Hawkin's first telescope being accidentally trained on a Greggs bakery shop window, and a shady underworld controlling scone dens in Perth, are not amusingly absurd concepts, it is just that the rest of his act is peppered with more promising scenarios.

He has a deft touch when exploring life's minutiae, including the currently vogue trainer liners - "You know, those wee socks that aren't even socks" - and a fabulous new food concept 'I can't beleive It's Not Cabbage'.

There are occassional flashes that are reminiscent of the deadpan American surrealist Stephen Wright, but sometimes Kay's deliberate delivery loses momentum and can seem almost introspective.

Equally, his delivery can also work to great effect, especially as he unfolds the wonderfully improbable concept of Pro-Celebrity Embroidery Open, which pitches Jarvis Cocker and Jean Claude Van Damme in a titanic tussle to win the honour of meeting Ted Rodgers.

The there's the Pope being frustrated by the refusal of his 'line manager' to back his ambition to launch a career as a DJ, and trying to sneak in a quick set before addressing the crowds from the balcony in St. Peter's Square.

This is a worthy full-scale Fringe debut, despite the impression that David Kay's absolute best is still to come. If he can top the gag about the Queen never being able to go anywhere if she was forced to join the rest of us at the check in queues, he'll be rather good.

The Scotsman

Friday 9th August

David Kay : Some like a Scone

WHEN he's not being a stand-up comic, David Kay works for NASA as Director of Scone Research. According to Kay, the earth is currently in a trajectory of a giant scone and in 17 years time, scone and planet will collide, destrying life as we know it. Kay and his team aim to save us by sending astronauts equipped with a bread knife into space. On a space walk, they plan to intercept the scone, cu tit into chunks and eat it.

Scones are not the only thing in the paisley-paprered tea-room of Kay's mind. With speech so slow you get the impression he's searching through a mental recipe book of jokes, Kay makes wry observations about everything from cherry stones to Taliban training donkeys and insurance against alien abduction.

Like a surfiet of home baked goods, kay's reliance on the comic power of random association could get tiring after a while. However it's impossible not to laugh at the thought of the Pope Dj0ing in Ibiza. The response Kay gets from his audience proves that a man can have his scone and eat it, too.

Chloe Veltman

The Stage

29th August 2002

David Kay : Some like a Scone

This is unconventional stand-up and it's all the better for it, as refreshing as a cup of fresh brew. Unlike many a comic before him, David Kay is quite content to remain hovering in the wings for the opening of his how, letting his audience sweat it out in this packed sauna space, while he finishes a scone.

The young Scot's nonchalant demeanour is a winning formula and couldn't be more different from the high energy rantings normally found in comedy clubs. His gentle patter considers alien abduction, Inverness' chances of being Europe's city of culture and a surreal take on the favourite kids TV shows of world leaders - Blair is Bod, Hussein a Finger Mouse fanatic.

With deadpan candour, Kay shares surreal tales with us - such as his recent lock in for a wee session in a scone den. When Kay's time is up, there's none of those heartfelt pleas - tagged on to the end of fringe shows like an epilogue - for the audience to spread the word if they enjoyed the show or if they didn't, to keep quiet. Kay just announces that he's done with us - true to his cool, no frills style.

Sarah Willcocks

The Fest

David Kay : Some like a Scone

OCH, well, this is a show like no other. If you can imagine your granny plucked from the bingo hall on a Tuesday, given a dose of surrealism inducing drugs and then set down on a stage, with a microphone, to wryly ramble at an audience - then you can imagine David Kay.

Infectiously funny and fixated with scones, Kay is a Ricky Fulton character on a different level: brilliant. His throughly entertaining and bemusing show is packed full of local observations for local people that, at the same time, resonate universally (no, really) and are funny even if you've never heard of Portree.

Off-the-wall, off his head, and often in a wee world of his own, an hour in Kay's company is like eating a cheese and jam sandwich bizarre, yet simply divine.

Thrill: The word 'shoogly' used in public.

Spill: If you're not a Scot, you may struggle to comprehend the accent.

Chris Ozog