Almost 29 years to the day since Eric Morecambe died, I was performing in the theatre where he collapsed, the Roses in Tewkesbury. I didn't make the link until someone tweeted me in the interval, even though my dressing room was "The Eric Morecambe Room". It was fairly apt as I was experiencing a tiny death of my own. It was a tough gig. Only forty people had bought tickets and the show had been moved to the bar, a room full of pillars with no curtains. I had expected with such a small crowd that I'd be performing to Die Hard fans, but these people weren't even Richard Herring fans. A row of slightly severe-faced ladies sat in front of me, initially tutting anything vaguely rude or cock-related. I told them not to tut yet, as things were going to get a lot ruder. With the room so bright I could see every single person. Usually in a dark room people feel comfortable letting themselves go, but with everything in crepescular light there was a bit of tension. A few of the jokes were hitting, but a lot were not. I felt a bit self-conscious and so did the audience. In a situation like this you know that they are feeling a bit embarrassed for you as well and it's an uphill struggle to convince them that you are better at what you do than the circumstances suggest. It looked like being a long night. Though as I had could not put up the screen and projector it was actually a short night as I had to cut some bits and I left out some of the cruder bits (though not all of them, because without the crude bits there isn't much left). Laughs were coming, but not ones that I could ride. At least we weren't going to get home too late tonight.
I think I just felt a bit embarrassed about this slight humiliation. Someone told me that supposedly if a butterfly appears on stage whilst you're performing then Eric likes the show. I don't know if the butterfly knows the way to the bar, but it didn't show up. I couldn't work out if I was sad or relieved not to be performing on the stage which saw Eric's last performance. It would be slightly morbid to see that as an achievement and yet I liked the historical connection to a man that I consider to be one of the funniest comedians I have ever seen.
In the back of my mind I was thinking that if I also pegged it tonight then this might get to be a question on Trivial Pursuit - what links Eric Morecambe and Richard Herring. It's the only thing that I am ever likely to match him at. We died in roughly the same place. Though at least he died successful enough to play the actual theatre!
Earlier, I had been sad to hear of the death of the Morecambe and Wise writer Eddie Braben. He had redefined the relationship of this double act and wrote all their classic shows and had given himself a nervous breakdown with all the stress that came with creating the much anticipated Christmas shows. I can appreciate a fraction of that. It's much harder going through the process of creating something than performing it, yet weirdly it seems that writers seem to outlive the performers. Galton and Simpson are still going strong, whilst the stars of their sitcoms have been dead for decades and Braben lasted 29 more years than Morecambe (who was only four years older than him). I would have thought that the stress of creation would take its toll on writers, but Douglas Adams is the only really young casualty that comes to mind.
I don't know where this leaves the writer/performer.
I came back on for the second half, now realising the Morecambe connection and accused the audience of killing this comedy hero, which they didn't seem to appreciate. But the second half did pick up somewhat and I manned up a bit and gave a less shamed performance, directing some of the material at the front row ladies and getting a few laughs from them. There were certainly people enjoying it, but it did take me back ten years to the kinds of performances I was doing then. I waited to sign programmes and sell books at the end and was left standing on my own for a while and sensed that the few people who did come to talk to me did so out of feeling sorry for me. The positive thing is that it's been a long time since I've felt like this.
Some of them appreciated the show, but I felt that I hadn't done as good a job as I am capable of and was annoyed that I'd let this get to me. I was also pissed off with myself for agreeing to play the bar. The minute I was told that there were no curtains I should have insisted on doing the gig in the theatre. As long as people had sat near the front then it would have been fine and a lot less stressful for us all. I hadn't wanted to make a fuss, which is a good thing most of the time, but this would have been a better show if we'd been able to use the screen and if the audience were protected by the shroud of of darkness.
If you are against the government's cuts to benefits for disabled people then please support this
fantastic Britain Cares campaign. Just take a photo of yourself with the words "I care" and upload it to the website and maybe put it on Twitter or Facebook with a link to the site. It'd be terrific if hundreds of thousands of people showed they wanted to live in a country that looked after its more vulnerable citizens, rather than one that rewards the richest and strongest.
For those of you who have paid for the RHLSTP series pass (or are about to do so) the shaky, filmed-by-a-10-year-old video of the Pappy's podcast at Machynlleth is
now available to download. This is just an extra you get for purchasing all six of the series at once. I am currently working hard to secure guests for the other nights. Some interesting possibilities, so fingers crossed that I can announce some more by the end of the week. Thanks for your support on this.
