On the face of it, the Pavilion was the perfect home for Agnes Brown and co.
And so Gerry arrived at the theatre door with a plastic bag in his hand and a look of desperation on his face.
But in the bag, he felt, lay hope. What it contained was a dog-eared copy of the script of
Mrs Brown's Last Wedding.
But what would the no-nonsense, short-fused Pavilion manager Iain Gordon think of this Irish invasion?
When the phone rang in his upstairs office to herald the arrival of a Mr Browne, Iain studied his close circuit camera to check out the man in the foyer.
And the sight of a tall, slightly scruffy, slightly desperate looking man clutching a plastic bag didn't impress him at all.
Upstairs in the office, Iain told Gerry straight off that he'd never heard of him or Brendan O'Carroll. And why should he even think about staging an unknown Irish play in his town?
Yet, he liked Gerry's upbeat attitude, loved the fact he seemed a trier, and said he would read the script. And he did - but the result wasn't good. The theatre boss reckoned the play was 'as funny as piles'.
Gerry persisted, arguing how well it had gone down in Dublin. Iain listened - but didn't agree. It was only when he brought in an actor friend (River City star) John Murtagh to read it aloud in an Irish accent it seemed to make sense.
The Glasgow theatre boss agreed to take a chance on the play, splitting the box office receipts. But there was a problem.
The Pavilion manager reckoned a new play needed £25,000 spent on advertising, which Brendan and Gerry would pay half of. But Brendan and Gerry, still with massive debts, had no money. Zero.
Gerry asked Iain for an advance. It was highly unusual, but the gruff but generous theatre boss put his hand in his pocket and gave the Irishman the money for his hotel room.
The Pavilion manager also paid for radio and newspaper advertising. But the strategy didn't work. Ticket sales were disastrous.
And when the Irish hopefuls turned up to rehearsal, the day before the show opened in June 1999, Iain was dismayed by what he saw. He reckoned the set was the cheapest, tackiest, ever.
"Brendan and co looked like a team of losers," said Iain.
To make matters worse, ticket sales for the week were dreadful.
A few hundred tickets had been sold for the opening night.
The entire ticket sales for the week were just £5000 (an average production would take £50-80,000 a week) and the Pavilion boss was all set to pull the show.
"I wouldn't have blamed him," says Brendan.
"The advertising hadn't worked. No-one had ever heard of the Mrs Brown character. Why would they come?"
However, Brendan made an appeal to Iain.
"I walked into his office and said 'If you stick with this play, I will make you a million quid.' Now, the truth is I didn't have a clue what I was talking about. But it turned out to be true."
The theatre boss announced to Brendan and Gerry he'd run the show until the end of the week, and then it would be pulled. He was cutting his loses.
On opening night, however, Iain was amazed by what he witnessed on stage. It didn't matter if the set looked a bit ramshackle, the audience loved the Last Wedding.
And the Pavilion manager, a man who guards his emotions tighter than the box office takings, says he laughed louder than he'd ever laughed in his life.
By the end of the week, a minor miracle was taking place on Renfield Street.
Those who'd seen the show had gone home and told their friends.
The box office phone sparkled like the generators the schoolboy Brendan and his chums John Breen and Jimmy Mathews had once slept near while camping.
And the theatre boss kept the doors open for a second week. On one day alone, the Pavilion till took £20,000 in advance ticket sales.
Brendan says: "You have to take your hat off to Iain Gordon. He didn't know us from Adam. He gave us
the theatre with no rent and no guarantees. He showed a lot of guts."
That run at the Pavilion alone saw Mrs Brown's Last Wedding pull in £400,000. Brendan had conquered Glasgow, which would become his favourite venue in the UK, with the Agnes Brown plays going on to pull in millions of comedy fans.
Dermot 'Bugsy' O'Neil made his first appearance on stage at the Pavilion, playing the role of Grandad, in a cameo. The former window cleaner, now instantly recognisable, is now besieged for autographs wherever he goes.
Thankfully, Liverpool and Manchester followed suit. Not quite in the same numbers as Glasgow, but the Mrs Brown train, packed with friends and family, was now off and running.