An Evening with Mad Frankie Fraser

THERE is no greater example of how time sanitises, and even sanctifies, than Mad Frankie Fraser. The same society that abhors gangland crime in Dublin today, will quite happily pay money to listen to an ex gangster reminisce and give him a round of applause when he finishes.

Certainly last night's audience were more than happy with Fraser's rambling anecdotes about prison after prison and his notorious associations with The Kray twins and The Richmonds. In a gruff East End accent, that surprises because it is genuine and not another comedy series parody, Mad Frankie describes a London that was divided into `dirty screws' or `lovely guys' (as in `He's a lovely guy, Reggie Kray'). In his stories of botched smash and grab raids and prison comradeship there is a sense of honour and community. When asked in the Q&A session at the end of the show if he blames this decline - on drugs, Fraser shrugs appealingly and says `I wouldn't know. I've had a clean life.'

Indeed you could become quite lulled into a rather cuddly view of Fraser's career with his descriptions of being put in solitary confinement for `being a bit saucy', and his naughty schoolboy manner, were it not, for odd references to `the guy as what I knifed', scattered without bravado. Mad Frankie does not claim to be an angel.

In between his slightly repetitive lists of time served and prison officers `done in', Frankie's girlfriend Marilyn serenades us with such hits as `It Had to Be You' and `Crazy'.

Although Marilyn's attempts at dancing were a little awkward, there was a certain - charm to her. Well after all, as Mad Frankie says, `You gotta love her - she's the daughter of a Great Train Robber.'