I write as someone who got a laugh with a Bob Monkhouse joke at his mother’s funeral, so I get where Daniel Hoffmann-Gill is coming from when he says he wants to share the eulogy he wrote for his father. David Gill died of dementia-related complications seven years ago and, as his son tells it, the funeral was sparsely attended. He thinks his big speech deserves a bigger audience, not only because it was a well-constructed tribute to a lovable rogue but also because, sentimentally, he would like to keep the name of his father alive.
So with lectern, flowers and snugly fitting suit, he invites us to relive the sad day, casting audience members as key figures in the congregation, from ex-girlfriend to funeral director. It sounds morose, but Hoffmann-Gill has the matter-of-fact charm of a standup comedian, admits his old man was a “prat” and makes light of the shoogly nature of it all. In the first half of the show, his delivery has something of the downbeat lyricism of Daniel Kitson in its combination of honest affection and funny observational detail.
