Despite fears about no one showing up the first Lyric gig of the season was, I think, a triumphant return. Sales massively picked up in the last few days and we had around about 500 people in which was wonderful. And they seemed to enjoy themselves. And why not, with such a terrific and eclectic bill?
I had fun dicking about and picking on people in the audience. My favourite moment was when I noticed a man sitting in the box above stage left on his own. I wanted to know how he'd secured this prestigious seat for himself and also why there seemed to be a curtain dividing him from the rest of the audience (there was no such arrangement on the stage right box). But the minute I addressed him the shadowy figure I could see (who I think was male) started slipping out of his seat and hiding. I couldn't believe that this was his avoidance technique, but it seemed that this adult, rather than just shouting out a hello or telling me to piss off had decided he would hide. Even though everyone knew he was there.
As if this was going to draw less attention to him. My curiosity was piqued. What the Hell was going on?
I got the people on the higher levels to look out for him to see if he was sneaking out of his VIP area, but they saw nothing. We had him pinned down on the floor of a theatre box. How long would he stay there? What was he thinking?
I wondered why he was hidden behind a curtain. Had he snuck in without a ticket, making him the theatrical equivalent of a stowaway? Was he working for the theatre and thus embarrassed to be picked on? Or was he, as I openly suggested, pleasuring himself in what he thought was a clandestine spot (and who could blame him with such wonderful eye candy as me in front of him) and now he was trying to hastily pull his pants and trousers back up?
I never found out as he never reappeared. He might still be lying there now, frozen with embarrassment.
I can't believe that he tried to hide.
But I barely did any actual material as there was enough play to be had with the less shy and suspicious members of the crowd. I warned the people sitting near a man with a T-shirt saying "Geezer" on it, that at any moment he might send an explosion of hot water shooting out of his head. I found a man on the front row who was picture editor for the Sunday Telegraph and so told him about my Daily Telegraph worst comedy experience award of 2005 and promised to make him pay for this slight. In introducing Alistair McGowan I hubristically and incorrectly told the audience that I was a better impressionist than him and said I would imitate any celebrity they could name. The Sunday Telegraph man named Andrew Collins. I said, "No, I said celebrity." Ah what fun we had.
McGowan did an assured set in which at one point he did an impression of Stewart Lee, followed by one of me in which he just kicked up his legs to the side. I was not aware that I did this on stage and maybe it was just something I was doing tonight. But the audience seemed to be amused by the satire. I liked the fact that Alistair had a lot of contemporary impressions, some of whom were maybe not instantly recognisable to everyone, such as Stewart and Rhod Gilbert. He also did Andy Parsons, rather brilliantly and interestingly everyone seemed to know who he was. It is interesting that Parsons is now more famous than Lee. Show business is an interesting and unpredictable business.
There was sterling work also from Wilson Dixon, a perfect parody of a US country star, who you would never know is actually from New Zealand and the brilliant Al Murray, who has not shaved either his face or head for a while and so unusually was rather hirsute. It's a long time since I have seen him without his infamous bald bullet head and it took some getting used to. I have certainly never seen him perform the Landlord like that.
It was great to see him back in a more intimate venue, with an audience who fully understood what was ironic and what they were supposed to be laughing at. Though I'd been pleased with my audience banter, he was as ever, giving a masterclass in interaction.
And it was also great to be introducing an act who only started doing stand up in December, Naz Osmanoglu,
who I had seen in So You Think You're Funny. It's really what these Sunday night shows are all about, to mix up big TV stars, with the best of acts from the circuit and brand new, but assured comedians who would never get the chance to play venues like this. And he did a great job - and interestingly a big agent had hurried backstage to talk to him afterwards. I am, as I remarked on stage, the Kingmaker. Even though my own career is fucked!
Naz got a lot out of this opportunity, but the more established acts seemed just as chuffed to have taken part. It's an exceptional evening and I hope we can make it a permanent monthly fixture. Next month on the 25th we have Stephen Merchant and Tim Key. Tickets seem to be selling well already and I am sure that now people know we're here it will sell out, so
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