Written & Performed by Alan Bissett

Directed By Sacha Kyle

Tour Dates Available Here

We all know a Moira: if you don’t – well – you’re the town ‘Moira’. Our condolences, but the Moira of writer and performer Alan Bissett’s now trilogy of monologues is everything to aspire to be: Falkirk’s hardest woman. Frequently defending the meek (her wee dog Pepe), cleaner, partial to the ganja, and the feistiest karaoke singer you’ll find in Scotland.

No fourteen years since Moira’s first outing at the Aye! Write Festival, Bissett’s alter-ego dons the skinny jeans and pixie boots once more for a Scottish tour of the collected trilogy of monologues. A marathon experience clocking in at a collective three and a half hours of humour, rage, and insight into a nation uncomfortable in its own baffies The Moira Trilogy is an absolute must-see and joyful eruption of comedic storytelling. Though to both Bissett and director Sacha Kyle’s credit, the evening blitzes forward in a remarkably fast fashion – armed with nothing but mimed ciggies and a few sips of vodka and diet Coke cola. Performed tonight at Webster’s Theatre, Glasgow, the show kindles those nicotine-stained walls of your aunt’s place, where you’ve been pushed to spend the evening with them but find yourself having a genuinely engaging and reflective night of laughter, with the threat of tears always looming.

Presenting the full ‘trilogy’, kicking off with The Moira Monologues in a relatively clean-cut single-setting performance of Moira conversing with her best pal (the infamous Babs) about her small dog’s run-in with a neighbouring rottweiler. By the follow-up piece, More Moira Monologues, change is afoot in this sequel which continues Moira’s tale-spinning but this time with a few more insights laced through the writing as Moira becomes a Granny and remarks on the changing landscape (political and physical) of Scotland. And coming to the most recent production, Moira in Lockdown (complete with a brawl over loo roll), age is catching up with Moira, and the expectant laughter and humour are sitting more and more in tandem with a reflection of the nation – one in a constant turmoil with immigration, denominationalism, conspiracy, Scottish Independence, and inequality.

And yet remarkably, even traversing near-fifteen years of Scottish working-class comedy and life, The Moira Trilogy fends off the dangers of nostalgia and reminiscence (for the most part. Certainly rejecting sepia-tinted spectacles of the ‘good ol’ days’. Bissett’s writing follows a similar structure through the three sets of monologues, short and snappy anecdotes, and scenes as Bissett takes on additional roles outside of Moira, growing throughout the evening, holding up one great big middle finger (and a ciggie) to political correctness. The humour is almost entirely a disguise for the reflections of the injustices of everyday life, and even a few (less than) thinly veiled comments of wider circles.

Finding a tightly threaded line between a character comedy caper and storytelling structured to a flawless level, the construction of character and delivery is exceptional, especially when held across a longer runtime, only switching out some boots for a set of slippers in Lockdown. The Moira Trilogy is a slender production – requiring no solid transitions or changes, relying more on language, humour, and some crossed arms. Sacha Kyle’s direction is precise and has an intimate trust and connection with Bissett’s performance (who else would know Moira better?). Though physicality does have moments, mainly as Bissett switches between Moira’s colleagues, friends, and occasional love interests in a humourous fashion. 

Individually each of the three hour-long monologues paints a captured ‘moment’ of self. Collectively Moira Bell’s adventures make up a fuller, funnier, and far more insightful picture. A smasher of a time, The Moira Trilogy is precisely what you expect it to be, especially for those who may have caught one or two of the pre-lockdown pieces. And you know what? That’s all it needs to be. Honest and an acutely sharp and funny reflection of life not too detached from many we know, and embraces everything it wants to be, and is all the better for it, ye ken?

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