There is a place called Hell. It features continuous karaoke seven days a week but enough of the philosophical rant for the opportunity to worship at the altar of Ashley Collins is in the here and now with respect duly given as, the dear to our collective heart, Ms Collins let nothing stand in her way of her musical mission.
Armed only with a lime green dress and a suspiciously sparkly microphone, Glasgow’s own ultra blonde Superdiva showed no fear as she tackled and executed each and every classic of the previously recorded crowd pleasers that she, in real time, exorcised from the digital domain. Let me tell you, anyone who would tackle the Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks” and do so without even a hint of irony has my respect. It’s a no surrender sort of thing.
Even though our beloved Ms Collins shied away from her own songs – attempting to drown my disappointment in alcohol could not compensate for that – there was little doubt that she was a supertrouper of the old school.
That said, the highlight of the evening was being slapped down by a barmaid (oops, I meant bartender (female) of course). She said “Are you a critic?”. As I tried to think of a smart answer she pointed at her head and said “I used to be blonde”. Five words and all that pure quality spelling and grammar that I pride myself on was rendered spurious. Penmanship is truly no protection against a woman.
So there you have it. You are there to see what is on stage and the real entertainment is behind the bar. It’s a Glasgow thing and that’s the truth.