Last Tuesday’s ‘Giggle at the Guild’ was, er, interesting and, er, different. ‘Twas this punter’s debut at the monthly comedic club that meets at the fabled Gloucester Guildhall’s cinema area. A frankly dreadful compere, name of Nik Hill, bewilderingly high on confidence, regretfully low on talent/mirth, introduced three acts ranging from the adequate to the satisfactory. The finest comic was from Oxford, Oxon and I forget his name. He had a beard ‘n’ an electric guitar and carolled the throng with merry parodies of rock stars; the fellow proved generally whimsical, quaint and gently humorous. The other two, er, comics had travelled all the way from Oldham and London, a fact I found remarkable; the former produced a set, sporadically engaging, that dealt, rather predictably, with ‘hoodies’ and teenagers and stuff while the latter spoke about erections ad nauseam.