The drunk in the audience
I had suggested to a few friends that we go along to one of the comedy nights hosted by Richard Herring at the Lyric in Hammersmith. A few people were interested, so I bought four tickets and made my way there in the evening with my ex-flatmate, where we would meet with my friends Amy (who has written a couple of posts on here) and Red Face Paul (about whom I have written occasionally).
I had forgotten however that both Amy and Red Face Paul had been in the pub since lunchtime. This fact became abundantly obvious when we arrived at the Lyric bar and they waved and screamed their welcomes at us across about fifty theatre goers.
Despite my silent prayers, the hole in the ground failed to appear, yet again, and so after getting some drinks we made our way to the stalls and our seats.
Mr. Herring began his routine about potatoes being the apples of the sky for French people, when Amy turned to face me and said, in the shouted whisper that only incredibly drunken people are capable of, “I’VE HEARD THIS BEFORE!”
“Yes.” I whispered, properly, “It was in his Edinburgh show that we saw a couple of years ago.”
“RIGHT. IT’S STILL GOOD THOUGH.”
The show moved on, and she finished the bottle of wine she had successfully snuck into the auditorium from the bar. Pappy’s Fun Club did their set, which closed with a bit of an audience participation sing song, and which most people ignored to begin with. Except Amy.
Now, Amy can not sing. At all. She is so tone deaf that her singing can jump across entire octaves mid sentence. And jump it did. Several times. Once again the hole in the ground failed to appear, though I did manage to lower myself in my seat by a several inches.
After the interval we retook our seats and within five minutes her head was bent backwards as if she was looking at the ceiling. Only her eyes were closed and she was on the verge of snoring. The positive angle here was that I could use any of the jokes I heard in her presence and she would think I was very funny. This was weighed up against the possibility of something falling from the Circle above into her open mouth and choking her.
I let her sleep.
Right until the point she awoke with a start and began talking rather loudly.
“LET ME HAVE A GO!” she began, “I’LL HAVE A GO. GET ME A MICROPHONE.”
For some reason she seemed to think that Sean Hughes wanted her on the stage with him. It took almost a minute to convince her that this was not the case, and included a threat of actual bodily violence. From her to me, for clarification.
The show came to its rousing conclusion, and Amy fell asleep the moment she got in the car to go home. I have not spoken to her yet to see how much, or indeed little, she remembers of the show.
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April 29th, 2008 at 10:37 am
Until you mentioned them and I looked them up on t’web I’d never heard of Richard Herring or Pappy’s Fun Club proving yet again that I am no longer a leading icon of culture and fashion.
I think Sean Hughes was the boring one on Never Mind the Buzzcocks?
I shall ask my son tonight he’s more down with the happening scene than I am even if it means I have to put up with the condescending expression and eye rolling.
I wouldn’t pin any hopes on the hole in the ground it’s never appeared when I’ve wanted it to either regardless of whether it’s to swallow me or someone else, Also people being struck down by a bolt of lightning, That also never happens when I need it to.
You just can’t get quality divine intervention these days.
April 29th, 2008 at 10:53 am
Amy sounds fun. Good for her managing to sneak in a bottle - I usually have to resort to getting a couple of those little bottles from Sainsbury’s as the big ones won’t fit into my hand bag.
April 29th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
I was chatting to Amy last night saying, having moved away, how I missed the impromptu cheeky sneaky all-dayers. I now retract that statement and share your pain
April 29th, 2008 at 1:06 pm
I once punched Sean Hughes in the face in the Trocadero at picadilly when he called my girlfriend a ‘Welsh twat’ because she wouldnt let him chat her up. Thing is she wasnt even welsh although she was a twat.
True story.
April 29th, 2008 at 1:22 pm
A ‘Welsh Twat’ - isnt that rich coming from him - I remember that rugby playing taffy Hughes well from A Question of Sport.
So what about Red Face Paul - did he behave himself?
April 29th, 2008 at 4:18 pm
i used to like Sean Hughes
April 29th, 2008 at 4:18 pm
i used to like Sean Hughes
April 29th, 2008 at 10:15 pm
‘Shouted whisper’ - priceless.
April 29th, 2008 at 11:07 pm
God, I wish I knew some interesting people.
Regards John
April 30th, 2008 at 9:14 am
Sean Hughes used to be good, didn’t he? Perrier and all that. I saw him at the w/e on Paramount Comedy and he was rubbish. So I suspect you owe your lush of a friend a bocquet of gratitude for not making the evening a complete washout. And don’t the French call potatoes the apples of the Earth? Or was that the joke? You never know with Herring. He’s the Stephen Hawking of Comedy.
You know who I feel sorry for? Neil Mallarkey. “Hey, I used to be Mike Myers’ comedy partner.” You’d rather be Sean Hughes, wouldn’t you?
April 30th, 2008 at 11:31 am
Stephen Hawking of Comedy - love it…..gonna use it as soon as poss. Ta
April 30th, 2008 at 1:29 pm
Must be better than being the Richard Herring of Physics - or even being the Stephen Hawking of Physics for that matter.
April 30th, 2008 at 7:45 pm
I honestly would prefer to have to endure the “death of a thousand cuts” or terminal cancer than have to sit through any kind of stage production with a pissed-up bird making a cunt of herself and anyone within hearing range (which covers about the whole audience byt eh sounds of things). Violence against women is almost always wrong, this is one exception.
May 1st, 2008 at 8:37 pm
A couple of years ago Sean Hughes added me as a friend on Myspace and tried to chat me up online.
It was weird. I kept thinking it was a piss take but he sent me tickets to his gig. I am exactly half his age. Dirty old man.