Bookmark and Share

Use this form to email this edition of Warming Up to your friends...
Your Email Address:
Your Friend's Email Address:
Press or to start over.

Friday 26th April 2013

Weekend gigs can sometimes be a bit rowdy, with people getting too drunk to be able to concentrate even on a show about cocks. And tonight I was in Southend-on-Sea in Essex, where, if jokes and reality TV are to be believed Friday nights can become a bit raucous and out of control.
Which is why you should pay no attention to stereotypes - tonight's 300 strong audience were one of the best I've had on this tour. They laughed a lot in the funny bits, but were engaged with and respected the more serious bits. Usually I can hear a few nervous titters or even full on belly-laughs from people as I discuss subjects such as how men feel about (what they usually imagine are) their small dicks. But tonight the serious bits were listened to in almost complete silence. I was surprised, not just because it was Essex, but because it was the weekend and I've got use to the effect that booze can have on people. It was great to see a crowd that could laugh so heartily one minute, but appreciate the change of tone. Most individuals do this, of course, just in a crowd there will usually be a few more idiots or at least people who are confused that a man is discussing small penises and they're not supposed to be laughing. We are conditioned to do so. I'd hate to perform this show to Pavlov's dogs, but occasionally a couple of them get in.
I thought I had played Southend before, but I am not sure that I have - so it was great to get so many people in (even if the theatre was only half full). As with many seaside towns it can feel a bit like you're time-traveled back to the 1970s. Back then a place like this would be quiet in the winter and booming in the summer, but now it's hard to get tourists to come here and so there hasn't been much regeneration and a lot of businesses are boarded up. I didn't get down to the sea-front, but the road that the theatre was on was certainly suffering through the recession. Remarkably there didn't seem to be a single coffee shop or open cafe on the long street. We had arrived a bit early at 4.30pm and so the breakfasty places had closed, but that's got to be quite a rarity in a main street in a large town. No coffee chain shop at all and not even an independent cafe or a place to get a cup of tea. I told Giles that I was going to give up comedy, come and live here and open a coffee shop. I told him I'd make a million pounds. He was unconvinced. I suspect the people of Southend have better things to spend their money on than £3 cups of coffee.
Yet maybe the culture where people spend £3 on a cup of coffee is why Southend is not the bustling tourist attraction it once was. In the 50s and 60s people had no money for such fripperies and certainly not for foreign travel. They'd have to take their chances on a British beach, hope for some sunshine, try to avoid the sewage and board in a cheap B&B which would kick them out the door at 9am. I saw the tail-end of such holidays in the early 70s and have affection for what was obviously quite an unpleasant experience. I can remember British beaches packed so tightly with bathers that it was hard to find a spot to sit. Would that ever happen now? Probably not on the mudbank that was Weston-Super-Mare beach where we often went. I loved the arcades, the candy-floss, the buckets and spades. But not so much that I'd choose to do it now. I like spending my money on over-priced coffee and foreign trips. This is my fault. I killed this place.
Funnily enough, on stage tonight, I did find myself thinking about the time me and my 16 year old pals had gone camping for a week in Weymouth in the mid-80s and decided to go and see Ted Rogers who was doing a show on the pier. We did this with that confusing mixture of irony and genuine excitement that you can only have at 16. We'd gone to mock him, but were still I am sure, secretly thrilled to be seeing someone off the telly - and Dusty Bin. We were excited to see a bin off of the telly.
I thought I'd probably written about this before and in fact I did so only just over a year ago, so although I've just written the whole story up again I am going to delete it and you can read it here (and see pictures)
Much as I am embarrassed about it now that I am a professional entertainer I suspect that most of the acts enjoyed the variety. Ted included us in the show (he had little choice) and when we came up on stage for the humiliating spoon down the trouser leg game I think I told Ted that my name was Jimmy O'Snito. That's the kind of level we were at. Without wanting to come across all Peter Kay (who seems to think all of his attention-seeking childhood performances were lapped up by everyone, when I think it's pretty clear they would have annoyed most people) I think in reality we probably livened up what was quite a dull show, a variety format as moribund as the whole idea of a beach holiday was becoming.
But I wondered tonight when karma would reward me with a front row of smart ass kids to wreck one of my shows. Probably never. They all go for a week's holiday in Thailand these days.


To join Richard's Substack (and get a lot of emails) visit:

richardherring.substack.com