LIVE REVIEW & GALLERY: Hung Like Hanratty @ The Leopard, Doncaster
Hung Like Hanratty are not here to hold your hand, soothe your feelings, or fit neatly into the politically correct box. They’re loud, brash, and unfiltered—a band steeped in the snotty obnoxiousness of true DIY punk. Their reputation precedes them, with a name referencing James Hanratty, an executed British serial killer, sure to raise eyebrows. Add to that the controversy surrounding their track ‘Danny is a Tranny’, which led to bans in two cities, and it’s clear Hung Like Hanratty aren’t afraid to stir the pot. But if you approach them with an open mind and an appreciation for tongue-in-cheek chaos, you’ll find they’re as much about poking fun at societal norms as they are about celebrating working-class grit.
The night at The Leopard didn’t kick off as planned. The support act bailed at the last minute, citing low ticket sales, even after the band offered to split their earnings—a gesture of goodwill that couldn’t coax them out of Hull, just an hour away. Al made sure to jibe at this during the set when he announced he’d “like to thank the support band.” Undeterred, Hung Like Hanratty turned the small venue into a chaotic punk haven, proving they didn’t need a warm-up act to light a fire under their audience.
Walking into the gig, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the punk “uniform” sported by many in the crowd—tartan trousers, sleeveless jackets, and band patches galore. As a proud punk fan who refuses to conform to the dress code, I showed up in a Lancashire Hotpots T-shirt, because why not? The room may have been small, but it was buzzing with anticipation.
From the moment frontman Al stormed the stage, it was clear we were in for a night of unrestrained madness. Al is a natural showman—full of life, humour, and the kind of charisma that pulls you into the chaos. Whether he was cracking jokes, letting the crowd take over the mic, or orchestrating the infamous “Dog Shit Dance” during ‘Clean Up Your Dog Shit’, he had everyone hanging on his every word. Even the barmaid couldn’t escape the spotlight, much to her mortification when the crowd turned to her mid-song.
The setlist was a rollercoaster of politically charged anthems, observational humour, and outright ridiculousness. Songs like ‘Flat Pack Furniture’ had everyone in stitches, with lyrics about IKEA woes morphing into tales of awkward Sunday mornings. Al dedicated ‘Working at the Morgue’ to his wonderful wife, suggesting she was sitting watching porn while the band were playing.
Meanwhile, ‘Danny is a Tranny’, a song often misunderstood as offensive (the reason they were banned from Cardiff and Bristol), stood out as a highlight. Written by a trans friend of the band, it embodies the group’s knack for tackling controversial topics with a mix of brashness and heart.
That said, there were moments that even I found toeing the line of good taste. Tracks like ‘The Ghost of Jimmy Savile’ and ‘Now Then It’s Christmas’ pushed the boundaries of what felt appropriate—even for a disgraced dead figure like Savile. But Hung Like Hanratty thrives on this edge, exaggerating everything to absurd levels where it’s hard not to see the satire shining through.
Despite their provocative reputation, the band themselves are a delight. They’re the only group I’ve ever had greet me on arrival and invite me into the green room for a chat. For all their onstage chaos, offstage, they’re warm, genuine, and downright hilarious.
The Leopard deserves a shoutout, too. Doncaster after dark might not be the most welcoming place, but this venue is a gem—a cosy pub downstairs and a charmingly intimate performance space upstairs. It’s grassroots venues like this that keep live music alive, and I’ll be keeping an eye on their future gigs.
As the night drew to a close, it was clear that Hung Like Hanratty had cemented their place in the hearts of the crowd. From the moment they walked in, the venue was theirs—fully won over by their unapologetic commitment to punk chaos. It’s music with serious undertones but drenched in deliberate absurdity. You’ll either be offended or laugh your head off—there’s no middle ground, and that’s precisely the point. They’re definitely not a band for the snowflake generation.
