Alan Bissett: When Billy met Alasdair
Alan Bissett’s electrifying new show When Billy Met Alasdair is a theatrical knockout – a sharp, witty and impassioned collision of two of Scotland’s towering cultural figures: the cerebral, softly-spoken writer Alasdair Gray, and the incendiary working-class comedian Billy Connolly. It’s a love letter to Scottish identity, laced with passion, joy, and a deep reverence for the complicated business of being Scottish.
Bissett, performing both roles himself with uncanny precision, channels the men’s starkly different energies with astonishing clarity. His Connolly is a strutting, swaggering stand-up in full flow – irreverent, hilarious, and unashamedly profane. In contrast, his Gray is all gentle lyricism, intellectual rumination and philosophical detachment. Yet both are equally magnetic, and Bissett juggles their opposing personas without ever slipping – an act of theatrical ventriloquism that’s nothing short of mesmerising.
The premise, an imagined conversation between the two Glaswegian greats when Gray signs his book Lanark for Connolly in 1981, allows Bissett to explore meaty territory: class, art, independence, masculinity, and what it means to speak for a nation.
This isn’t a dry political debate. It’s fire and poetry in equal measure. Connolly’s whip-smart one-liners and belly laughs are perfectly timed – and Bissett delivers them with the kind of comedic chops that would make the Big Yin proud. Yet it’s in the quieter moments, when Gray speaks of constantly wrestling with his own self-image, or when Connolly reflects on childhood pain beneath the bravado, that the show truly resonates.
The pace never flags, allowing moments of chaos to coexist with stillness. The sparse staging lets Bissett’s performance shine, while subtle lighting shifts reflect the emotional undercurrents at play. It’s a masterclass in minimalism, where the words and performances carry the weight.
What elevates When Billy met Alasdair beyond mere impersonation is its emotional intelligence. This is no nostalgic romp. Bissett grapples with real ideological tensions: populism vs intellectualism, art vs comedy, working-class authenticity vs elite theory. But he does so with warmth, humour and deep empathy. It’s a testament to both men’s legacy – and a provocation to today’s Scotland.
By the end, the fictional friendship that emerges between Gray and Connolly feels utterly real – flawed, funny, and full of unspoken love. Much like Scotland itself.
This is one of the smartest, funniest and most thought-provoking shows at the Fringe this year. Whether you’re a literary fan, political junkie, or just love a good laugh, don’t miss it. Alan Bissett has created a minor masterpiece – a bold, beautiful bruise of a play.
★★★★★
