6100/19029
Last day off today and it meant that we could finally go to see the Amazing Bubble Man (he’d been sold out the first Monday we were here and Catie had a book event last week). It was time to find out if all
the technical fuck ups from two years ago were genuine or part of the act.
Although he did step in his bubble mixture at one point things went much more smoothly this time. Once again this man had no trouble selling out the huge Upside Down Cow and though and even taking into account the amount of bubble mixture and smoke he gets through (two of the most expensive items on earth), he must be making a killing. And I hope he is. Because there’s something delightful about a man becoming a millionaire because he’s able to manipulate soapy solutions to make an hour’s worth of entertainment. Imagine telling someone from the Middle Ages that you’d be able to live like a king because you had this skill. I think they’d be super impressed with the show, to be honest and might think he deserved it. But we are an incredible species where we are able to thrive by working on a skill that would otherwise be little use in survival. I am definitely not being critical. Even my ancestors of 100 years ago would be astonished that I own a house because of my ability to swear in a room full of people.
How did he even work out there was a living in this?
People were put inside bubbles, kids were gently bullied and loved it, the audience got squirted with water, we all got caught up in the magic of surface tension. Phoebe and me queued with a large proportion of the audience to buy 2 bubble trumpets and mixture (which is how I know that that liquid is as expensive as gold) for £20 and again I was glad to see this man adding hundreds if not thousands of pounds of revenue to his daily takings. I am happy if I sell four books after a show. This man had a crowd clamouring for product as if there was a danger that coloured plastic bubble horns might run out. And had forgotten that you can make bubbles using diluted washing up liquid.
But we had a fun afternoon playing with the bubble trumpets and special bubble mixture with the Bubble Man’s secret ingredient in every bottle. Phoebe made me bubble hair, like we’d seen in the show and we all proved that there was a lot of skill in what this guy does as we failed to make anything more than basic bubbles, albeit some quite big ones (which we were still very pleased with).
I wish the Bubble Man all the happiness in the world and hope he goes home after his show and lives like a medieval king, preferably in a palace made of bubbles. I fear he sits in a bedsit surrounded by his gold and questions whether this is any kind of existence for a grown man. Not because he should, but just because we always want more and different than we have and I know I do the same. Except you can’t build a palace out of swear words.
If you can get a ticket then go and see this show and buy his merch and add to his fortune. No one deserves it more.
