Up to Liverpool by train this afternoon to perform another last show of "The Headmaster's Son". Clacton was the last official tour date, this was a late addition and next month I do the last, last gig (for the moment at least) when I record the DVD in Bristol.
Hoped to work on the train, but my laptop battery quickly ran out and there were no plugs and on the second train there were way too many people anyway and some kids accidentally kicking me under the table as they shared the opposite seat.
Even travelling by train is exhausting and though I got a little bit done at the hotel my mind was half on the gig. It seemed to prove that the reason I have got so much done in the last week is down to the absence of gigs.
The gig itself was fine. It was out by the Albert Docks, which I last went to during one of the Lee and Herring tours to visit the Museum of Slavery, which is next to the Beatles Museum. Liverpool has equal pride in its main two contributions to the world. But it meant another strange sensation of the passage of time and literal deja vu as I walked over to the docks for the first time in over a decade.
The Slavery Museum is well worth a visit by the way, though it's an odd toss up of a choice for the casual visitor. Do we want to go to a museum about the Beatles or one about slavery? Are we in an up or a down mood today? And can you do both on the same day and if so in which order should you do them?
The gig went fine, though I was a little rusty on some of it after only a week of rest. As usual my focus was on the one woman in the audience who clearly hated the whole thing from the start. Her boyfriend next to her found some of it funny, but her miserable face soon made him check himself. For most of the show she wasn't even watching me, just looking down at the floor (or possibly her phone). I am amazed she stayed til the interval, though she wasn't back for the second half. It's quite incredible how a comedian is able to locate the one miserable face in a crowd and then focus on it.
I had some fun in the conversation between the 41 year old me and the 16 year old me, developing something I've added in recently. The adult me did a bit saying how great it would be if Liverpool was destroyed (when the world ended due to me hugging my younger self and creating a time paradox) and enjoyed laying into the place, saying how delighted the rest of the world would be at the destruction of this place, even though they knew they would also perish. The younger me questioned the wisdom of mocking the place I was in and wouldn't it better to pick on a rival town to curry favour with the audience. I told the younger me that that was what made me a superior comedian, that lesser gagsmiths would pick on Manchester to flatter the crowd, but I went for the jugular. "In any case" I said, "I much prefer Manchester to Liverpool."
"You can't say that," said the younger me, at which point some of the crowd started to boo, "Don't boo me," the younger me (ie me looking to the right rather than the left) interjected, "I'm defending you, I love Liverpool. Don't blame me for what he says."
The crowd, so caught up in the theatre, seemed to believe that I was two different people as they actually cheered and applauded the younger me, as if he was a separate entity, rather than me looking in a different direction. This says something for the power of my acting, or the stupidity of the Liverpudlian. Let's say it's the former to be polite, but I didn't have the same problem in Manchester. That's all I'm saying.
I'm just kidding with you Liverpool. I love you lots and I've been here about four times in a row now without anyone trying to hit me, so all is forgiven. I love Manchester and Liverpool equally. Although different, they are like two tearaway sons of mine, and I can't possibly choose between them.
But it was fun not only to be improvising between the two versions of myself, but to get people engaging with that improvisation and siding with one or other of me, even though they were both me.
Was sad to do the show for the last time though. Even though there is one more last time to go.
