Singin’ I’m No A Billy He’s A Tim

A
play exploring bigotry and ethic identity. What happens when, on the
day of the Old Firm Match, you lock a Celtic and Rangers fan in a cell
together?  Fireworks.  And a weird kind of unity.

Des
Dillon's "Singin' I'm No A Billy He's A Tim", puts sectarianism firmly
in its place. Crowd pleasing look at the Old Firm divide makes for
entertaining, high quality, populist theatre Des Dillon's anti-sectarian
comedy about two footie fans from either side of the Old Firm divide
who are forced to confront each other's point of view and culture, after
being locked up in a cell together on derby day, is one of Scottish
theatre's most popular success stories of recent times.

And
the show's word of mouth popularity is more than richly deserved. First
premiered at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2005  (where there was little
expectation of a shelf-life beyond its initial run), since then this
modest little three-hander has gone from playing to houses of 60 people,
to an audience of 3,000 who have turned out at the SECC and five
national sell out tours in Scotland and Northern Ireland, garnering
standing ovations and rave reviews wherever it plays.

Now
Dillon's plea for a little peace, love and understanding -or at least
the ability to see further than the length of your own prejudices -finds
itself hitching up at the Pavilion. And who could grudge its success? True
you don't have to be a rocket scientist to quickly work out that the
initial hostility between Rangers fan Billy, and the Celtic supporting
Tim (no one said the broad brush strokes employed here were subtle),
would eventually lead to a "ceasefire" after the debunking of some
common misperceptions of each other's culture, and take on Scottishness.

Billy
is proud to be "British"; Tim considers himself an "Irish-Scot". But
both in the end come under the umbrella of shared humanity, as the fate
of turnkey Harry's sick grandson hangs in the balance. As one character
says early on:  "There's more to fitba' than fitba'." The lesson learned
during the course of the play  of course is that there's a lot more to
life than football. No matter the misplaced loyalty and bigotry that
drives you on to support your team.

That
rarest of beasts – theatre for people who normally wouldn't normally be
seen dead setting foot in the theatre – key to the show's success is
Dillon's understanding that the best way to puncture bigotry of any kind
is to laugh at it and point out its absurdities. Even if, in order to
do so you have to show it in all its naked, knuckleheaded glory. Celtic'
fans are paranoid and workshy; Rangers fans bombastic bowler-hatted
masons. Pumped full of comic brio (complete with sideswipes at alleged
religious bias at Glasgow City council; Donald Findlay; and new, up- to-
date gags surrounding Rangers bad boy Allan McGregor, and the recent
controversy over Celtic's taking to task of referees), Dillon's sharp
eye, and even sharper wit, makes his allegory and argument for tolerance
apply far beyond "Scotland's shame." The end result is a crowd pleasing
show, ringing with truth and authenticity, as much as laughter, at
every turn. One deserving of every success it enjoys. 

www.goldfishtheatre.co.uk