7278/19798
Two nights out gigging in a row. Am I trying to kill myself?
No, I am not. I want to live, goddammit. I want to live.
And I did. For one more day at least. Hey I've got to hold out for the 20th anniversary of Warming Up.
My brain was sluggish all day as I tried to prep for the interviews and I didn't feel like I was making the usual progress, but luckily I'd read Rich Hall's book last month when I thought he might be doing the Book Club and I knew there was lots to talk about from that. It's a brilliantly written book from one of comedy's most original minds. And I enjoyed catching up on Sarah Keyworth's recent Radio 4 show and the clips of her very enjoyable stand up.
When I arrived at the Leicester Square Theatre the crew were all out for dinner and the place was deserted. I went into the dressing room and there was an odd red glow coming from it into the corridor. When I got in I found that all the lights in the mirror which have always been the regular white/yellowish ones had been replaced by red bulbs and there were two fans on the counter blowing towards me. It was ever so slightly spooky. I assumed that this was the work of Stewart Lee who is currently in this theatre every day except Mondays. He has already placed a fan art portrait of himself above the mirror in an attempt to dominate and own the dressing room, so maybe his eccentricities had led him to live like a vampire who, despite being dead, liked to keep cool. It turned out though that the lights had been put in at the request of Dave Chappelle who had played the theatre last night (why had I not tried to get him for the podcast? Oh it was because I didn't know that was going to happen) and someone had also been smoking in the room (which is against the law, so I won't say who I think it might have been) so the fans were there to get rid of the smell of smoke.
It was a reminder of how many legendary performers you end up sharing a space with, though due to the linear nature of time never meet. As I went to the backstage loo at the Bill Murray last night I considered how many famous people must have weed (and maybe pooed) in that toilet. It's quite humbling.
Audience numbers were disappointingly low again. The sales are good on average, but it seems we're either selling out or selling about 100 tickets (the lower amount being way down on what we were getting pre-Covid where we'd reached a point where it was nearly always half full). I was surprised that more people didn't want to see Rich Hall, but sometimes ticket sales for RHLSTP don't reflect the appeal of the act outside of the odd confines. I hope the regular audience will begin to return, as the shows go better with an enthusiastic crowd (and I don't want to get to the point where the theatre decide they'd put on a more reliable show) BUT tonight I needn't have wondered as it was very much quality over quantity and it was a fabulous response to both interviews. My weariness had made me think I might not enjoy them, but my chat with Sarah Keyworth was both illuminating and serious and skittish and silly and we riffed our way into some interesting places. Sarah is a sharp comedic mind and I enjoyed meeting them for the first time properly (we'd gigged together in Clapham between lockdowns).
Rich was, as expected, a wonderful interviewee and is a comedian to his very core. He is philosophical and satisfied with his lot, as well he should be and has managed to constantly reinvent himself, sometimes when a successful idea or character has got beyond his control, just moving on somewhere else. Like I say,
read his book.
Another great honour to get him on the show and an utter pleasure to get to speak at length to him.
