King of Scotland

Scottish comedian Jonathan Watson takes on the role of Tommy McMillan, a layabout delusional forced into a government work scheme. It's been 11 years since Iain Heggie's adaptation of Gogol's Diary of a Madman first opened, and Watson's McMillan is just as compelling as his predecessors (Brian Pettifer and Gerard Kelly), all slurred words and flawless comic timing.

For 28 years, McMillan has been unemployed but, after being thrown into the world of work to do nothing but improve his employer's reputation for taking him on in the first place, he begins to believe he is the rightful King of Scotland. His gradual mental breakdown—to which McMillan himself is completely oblivious—is subtly played, at first concealed by Watson's ability to eke laughs from thin air but then becoming more and more evident. Talking dogs, dogs writing letters and unrequited love bordering on stalking are all highlighted by Watson's facial tics, which become increasingly acute as his mind unravels.

He is crude, laviscious and downright repulsive, but his sense of entitlement is actually rather rational, emphasising the injustice of the current political and social systems. It's hard to argue with his anger. Are those in power any different to the everyman? Both are immoral and delusional in their own ways, and what really separates the corrupt and elected from the slovenly and powerless?

King of Scotland is peppered with McMillan's increasingly bizarre experiences and concludes with a genuinely poignant denouement. The direction may be a bit static, but Watson's performance sparkles, making for an engaging and highly recommended hour.