A short, talented, cocky, philanthropic, smug, erudite, tax-exiled, influential, holier-than-thou, sunglasses-sporting tosser, whose self-styled pseudonym sounds like the other half of a Cher variety duo. Yes it’s U2 frontman, Bono, and a sideways glance at his meteoric rise to music fame, told through the green eyes of his schoolmate Neil. It’s a bit of fun, it’s very camp, but sadly Killing Bono just isn’t deadly.
Imagine growing up in Dublin in the late 70s and watching your mate Paul go on to form the biggest band in the world since The Beatles, top trumping your own troupe with global success as you struggle to even make it on the domestic scene. That’s what happened to Neil McCormick, carrying a grudge the size of the Irish banking bailout, and about whom U2’s All That You Can’t Leave Behind could have been named. This liberal adaptation of McCormick’s memoir I was Bono’s Doppelgänger has tongue firmly in cheek and some winning performances. But it falls apart with crass and ill-advised stabs at bawdy humour and gangster subplots. Like U2 themselves, it all started so well…
