7780/20721
It's been an intense six months of podcasting, but today the 2023/4 RHLSTP tour came to an end in spectacular style with the biggest gig I've done in my career so far (in terms of audience numbers for one of my own shows). Arguably not all the 1200+ people were there because of me, but arguably they all were.
The long trip to Hull was lightened by watching videos involving Cannon and Ball or Bob Mortimer, which can't really be called work. I knew this was going to be an easy night for me.
Bob had driven up from Tunbridge Wells especially for this gig in a gesture of such kindness I don't really know how to process it. He'd said at the London gig that he was happy to step in any time, but didn't want the podcast broadcast so he didn't have to worry about his comments being taken out of context by stupid journalists and had mentioned that he would come to Hull if I wanted. But it felt like too much of an imposition.
But ultimately I love seeing him and obviously it flipped a moderately well selling gig into a sell out so I owe him big time. I suspect he knows this and is going to make me come and clean his guttering or something. I will have to do it.
I have never really heard anything like the reception that Bob got as he came on. The man is correctly adored.
Hilariously he spent the first ten minutes amusingly criticising the podcast that he'd just driven for eight hours to be on. It was very funny. As was the whole hour. It's a shame that it won't go out, but equally it did make it extremely special for the people in the room and it was a choice between it not happening at all or it happening and not going out, so it's the same result for everyone else. If Bob relents we have a recording, but maybe it's more special if it stays in the room and joins the legendary unbroadcast interviews of Richard E Grant. Ricky Wilson and Michael Eavis.
And then as a fitting end of series bonus treat I got to meet Tommy Cannon. He is a truly remarkable and inspirational man, almost 85 years old but sharp as a tack and incredibly nimble. He was up and down from his seat, acting out his stories and as terrified as I was that he'd trip over his microphone wire and fall off the stage and I'd have killed Tommy Cannon, he was too professional to go wrong. The Cannon and Ball story is an amazing one, not least because Bobby quickly chose a reluctant Tommy to be his stage partner within hours of meeting him (though it took months to convince him) and they were initially a musical act. The pair came last on Opportunity Knocks in 1968, a good decade before they'd achieve incredible success with their ITV show that regularly scored 20 million viewers. I remember seeing that show for the first time and being reduced to a quivering heap of laughter, alongside my sister who loved it too. It's a treasured childhood memory. I don't know what we were laughing at, I just remember the shared laughter. And there's no better testament to a comedy act than that.
As a cynical teenager I would pretend to not find the mainstream antics of this double act funny and at University one of the first sketches I wrote was about a comedy triple act called Knife, Fork and Peterson. I was Bobby Knife, an annoying funny man who would pull a pair of braces out of his pocket and twang them, Stew was Sid Fork (the straight man, as he'd be in our own double act) and Mick Cosgrave was Colin Peterson, who sat in the corner of the stage drinking beer. So it wasn't a traditional double act, it was a very different triple act.
Not that the opinions of sarcy teenagers would have dented the confidence of the now millionaire Cannon and Ball, had they been unlucky enough to see us. And watching them again through the less cynical eyes of a 56 year old, I can see that the 10 year old me was cleverer than the 19 year old me. The double act was solid, full of anarchy and repressed anger and violence, with Tommy being the perfect foil for the impish Bobby. The character took himself too seriously, wanted to be a star in his own right, thought he was the best singer on the planet and then this annoying, brilliant rule-breaking pixie ruined his life. In reality, of course, the opposite was true. Bobby changed Tommy's life completely and he chose his double act partner wisely. Tommy said he regretted never asking Bobby why he was so insistent that they had to work together. But I think I know why. Even though they weren't aiming to be comedians he knew this handsome, reserved and tough guy would complement his free spirit. I guess Stew and me saw something in each other immediately. It's a bit like falling in love. And then you get shackled together in a marriage without the sex (except for the ventriloquist dummy incident) and you either love each other for ever or are trapped inside a spiral of resentment.
Tommy talked movingly about losing Bobby and about their ups and downs. It was, it has to be said, the perfect end to the tour. And the applause he got at the end was as heartfelt and loud as that which Bob had got at the start of the evening. My own part was smaller and more subtle, but delighted to get an interview of laughs and depths with this great man, as much as I regret not managing to get one with the pair of them together.
Back to the Premier Inn for a drink with the team, Chris Evans and two of many, many children had come up to see this one and Bec and George were there too of course. It's actually, incredibly, the first post gig drink that Bec and I have had (I also went out for a couple of drinks with the Leicester Square Theatre crew after the London ones, but Bec did not tour manage those ones). Once upon a time touring was all about the after party or at least the come down post gig, having a solo wine in a Travelodge bar. But now it's all about the show and then straight back to our rooms as soon as we've finished. It was a low key celebration, but a pleasant one. I had one can of alcohol free Guinness and went to bed.
Another tour over. Now some well-earned time off before starting the next one in two weeks time!
Come and see it!
