Tommy Sheppard pays tribute to Paul Sneddon, a.k.a. Vladimir McTavish, one of Scotland’s outstanding comedians and a long-term Scottish Left Review contributor, who died in July 2026.
Paul Sneddon, Scottish actor and comedian, known for his creations Vladimir McTavish and Bob Doolally, died at the start of July, after an eight-month fight with cancer.
Amongst other things he was a regular contributor to this magazine, penning the satirical column “A Kick Up The Tabloids” for many years.
I first met Paul in the summer of 1995 when he debuted at the Edinburgh festival as Vladimir McTavish. Vladimir was more than a stage name; he was an alter-ego. Paul developed the act into a brash, take no prisoners, opinionated satirist. A high-status act, exemplifying without apology a new confidence that was beginning to grow in Scottish cultural and political life.
Even the name said what it did on the tin. The combination of Vladimir (from the Bolshevik Lenin not the oligarch Putin) and the quintessential Scottishness of McTavish describing to a tee the Caledonian leftie. For sure the performance required exaggeration, but whilst the loud foulmouthed rants might have contrasted with the gentle modesty of the creator, in their opinions and targets McTavish and Sneddon were as one.
This was a far cry from the cringing self-parody of the past. Vladimir McTavish railed against injustice and inequality on the one hand and the mundanity and absurdity of officialdom on the other. He became the best satirist of his generation, always topical, nothing off limits. He didn’t attack authority for the sake of it, or to get a cheap laugh. He selected deserving targets, those who he saw as responsible for the misery and oppression of others. Favourites were Tory politicians and the Donald.
It wasn’t just politics. He generated much material from observing the Scots relationship with alcohol, noting you didn’t have to think too hard to work out where Stevenson got the inspiration for Jekyll and Hyde. Typical was his excoriation of the Scottish government’s public health campaign to tackle problem drinking. Pouring scorn on the question “have you ever drank more than you intended to?”, Vladimir suggested that a more effective enquiry might be “Have you ever drank so much you broke a limb and blamed it on fruit?”
McTavish was blistering funny, and there was a point to his comedy. He had something to say. The act became an exemplar for a new generation of Scottish comics that was to follow in the decade to come.
When I first met Paul, we had started the Stand Comedy Club as a hobby, determined to provide a platform for Scottish performers in their capital city. From the word go he shared that endeavour, and he became a regular headliner at the club in Christies. But it was his off-stage contribution which really mattered. As the club grew, and particularly when it moved into the full-time venue at York Place, Paul was instrumental in making links with promoters and acts across the UK.
As well as acting as the club’s ambassador, helping us as a new entrant gain credibility in a highly competitive industry, Paul also became a mentor for those hoping to follow in his footsteps. Over the decades thousands of people have had a go at stand-up in the Stand’s Red Raw shows. For many it is an experience best forgotten by all concerned. But Paul always found something positive to say about everyone, always gave encouragement. And there are performers today who would have given up without it.
Paul brought the skills and discipline of his theatrical training to the development of his stand up. That was evident in the pared down punchlines and animated expressions of Vlad. But it really showed as he developed the new character of Bob Doolally, the superannuated alcoholic pundit that became his vehicle to satirise the Scottish male obsession with football. I had a ringside seat to watch the painstaking work that went into developing Doolally, honing the script, choreographing movement, perfecting every aspect from hair and costume to intonation and accent. This was a dedicated professional at work.
In the late-night camaraderie we enjoyed after gigs, I came to realise that I shared with Paul not just a love of stand-up, but pretty much an entire world view. From an early age Paul was a socialist, outraged at the inequality and injustice of the world around him. He was an internationalist, and like many of us, in this century he came to embrace the cause of Scottish independence, believing that with the powers of new state we could not only build a better Scotland, but a better world.
These are the ideas that informed his stand up. It meant he was an act always worth seeing, one that was relevant in an industry sadly always drawn to the mediocre and banal. And it meant he was always first in line whenever a benefit was being organised to raise funds for causes he believed in, whether fighting poverty and disease, or standing up for human rights in Palestine and elsewhere.
Paul Sneddon’s career stands as an inspiration to the new generation of Scottish comic performers. Let us hope they live up to his memory.
Tommy Sheppard is the former SNP MP for Edinburgh East, and until recently was chair of the Stand Comedy Club.