Daly’s Comedy Club returns with star-studded line-ups

I felt pretty privileged on Friday night past to be part of a crowd of a hundred-or-so people who sat in the audience for the return of Daly’s Comedy Club.

If you aren’t a comedy buff with your finger on the pulse of the North’s stand-up circuit, you probably think every middling-sized-town has a Daly’s Comedy Club – however, such an assumption would betray your naivety, because Daly’s is no run-of-the-mill comedy club. She’s a goddamn institution!

Daly’s has one of the best reputations for comedy in the country – and I’m not talking ‘our wee country’; I’m talking Mallon to Mizen and east to west; full fat Erin, no 20 per-cent less carry-on.

However, six years ago, this renowned chuckle chamber went into hibernation: The lights went out, the doors were locked, and all the jokers headed home, and threw their feet up. It would nearly remind you of a certain other of our institutions. But I digress…

Anyway, before Daly’s went into that deep sleep in 2015, it had been the focal point of two town-wide comedy festivals.

The festivals, which brought Ireland’s best comedians to the town, were the first of their kind in Omagh. In fact, there was little precedent to be seen in any towns of comparable size. We were pioneering new ground; conquering new terrain, and Daly’s Comedy Club was the Christopher Columbus of it all.

A comedy scene which had been burgeoning for a while was coming into full bloom.

But just as it seemed like spring was turning to summer, an unexpected frost fell and froze everything stiff for six years. But on Friday, the thaw finally arrived…

Now, the dramatic scene of the comeback has been set, and Daly’s fabled reputation has been detailed, the sycophantic review can commence.

‘Open now!’

We were sitting down at the back of the pub, when a big voice boomed from behind the counter, echoed down the long narrow bar, and landed upon our lugs like an alarm.

“Comedy Club starts in half an hour. Upstairs is open now!”

Normally, with any other form of live entertainment, I’ll hang on in the bar to the bitter end, often to the frustration, dismay and sometimes fury of whoever’s job it is to get everyone into their seats. I’ll usually sit until physical coercion is imminent, and then indignantly tell the powers that be that I was just about to get up.

However, comedy nights are an absolute exception to this rule. As soon as the doors open, so does the throat; glass to gob, empty the contents, get a seat. That’s the protocol.

So, I was astounded when I noticed that my level of urgency was not being universal adopted. There were still people ordering pints as we high-tailed it up the stairs. Lunacy.

Sitting in our seats, which we had tactically chosen for the cover they afforded, we watched people – either morons or masochists – swanning toward the front row with a cavalier stride that suggested they were at an Enya concert. Their casual gait was discordant with their destiny. It was like watching a man moonwalking into an electric chair.

“Rather you than me,” I thought to myself.

Safely concealed among the faceless masses, with two pints securely tucked away under my seat, the lights were dimmed, and big Conor Key’s stepped onto the stage.

“Hello Daly’s, are yous well? Are we glad to see the return of the Comedy Club?” We all clapped, some whistled, and the less-gifted whistlers roared raw, primal roars.

The line-up was star-studded; some rising, some in the process of exploding into supernovas. (Dis)Gracing the stage was Diona Doherty, Darren Matthews, Sean Hegarty, and one of the North’s most high-profile comedians, Shane Todd.

As alluded to, Conor Keys was MC, and piss-taker-in-chief for the night.

It wasn’t long before the big man on the mic was asking for names and occupations. An older couple who turned out to be celebrating an anniversary attracted Conor’s curiosity.

As the saying goes, the devil is in the details, so we’ll not get into the knitty-gritty of the back-and-forth that ensued. Suffice to say that, like wolves at the moon, the audience were howling.

After Conor had us warmed up, the only female comic of the night, Derry’s Diona Doherty, took to the stage – I’m pretty sure regurgitating a stand-up’s material in the course of a review constitutes plagiarism or at the very least a spoiler, so I’ll refrain from doing so.

But I can say, without a wein of sugar-coating, that it was one of the best night’s craic I’ve had in a long time.

There are dozens, if not hundreds, of proverbs and cliches that extoll the medicinal and curative virtues of laughing.

Now, I’m not saying that if you have a pain in your chest that Daly’s is the spot to go. That would be irresponsible. But when my friends (yes, I’ve a couple) and I left that place, there was no disputing that we were all in form that we hadn’t seen in a while.

Maybe comedy doesn’t actually do anything for your health, but it certainly does something for the soul.

Anyway, next month Conor and the crew will be welcoming Belfast’s Colin Geddis as the headline act – who, incidentally, Conor claims is only coming partly because he loves Daly’s, but primarily because he believes Giuseppe’s is home of the nicest pizzas in the country.

Daly’s is back – and I for one hope she’s here to stay.