Sunday, 12 December 2010

Reversed, Not Reserved.

Friday was opposite day. Up was down, right was left, Tramadol Nights was clever. Things that I expected just reversed themselves. Plus it ended with the greatest insult I have ever received. Friday was fun.

I went for a beer at Tortilla just off Oxford Street. It's a nice little cheap n' cheerful Mexican fastish food place. I was looking forward to my beer. It would have lime in it and I could pretend I was on holiday somewhere warm and not just walked in from a street where the air is made of broken glass and punches. That beer was going to transport me from the cold street to the hot beach. Sadly, two girls sat near me. They sat near me and they talked. The very two things I thoroughly despise: people and their voices.

They spoke so loudly and so constantly and so X-Factorly. They actually spoke in X-Factor language. For fucking ages. "Seriously, I just fink, right, that this is my moment to shine, you get me?" "You have such a gift inside you. You need to show everyone that". "I really do. Deep down, I know I'm so special".

This genuinely went on for half a fucking hour. The subject of their conversation was how she dumped her boyfriend because he couldn't lose weight. "I have so much to give, you get me? This is my life and I have to live it or I'm just not being true to myself. My wings shouldn't be clipped because everyone should be free to fly and reach their dreams. Plus he was fat".

HALF A FUCKING HOUR. Listening to that shit. You dumped him because every time you spoke he screwed his face up and just stared at you, there is NOTHING deep within you except for the chips you're shoving down you oh-so-snappable neck and you can't shine. People cannot shine. No one has ever shined. It is impossible to shine. You're not a Knight. Fuck off saying shine. I hated these two girls. They were loud, pretentious and fucking horrible.

Then they offered me some margarita.

Turned out they were lovely. I left really disappointed. The fucking lovely, generous slags.

Then it was off to my gig where I was immediately warned of a table of women at the front who were sitting at the front, being loud and they kept getting up on to the stage to talk into the mic. Even though the mic wasn't switched on yet, they kept on doing it. Before the show started we must have seen them get up on the stage and use the dead mic 10 times, each time thinking it was hilarious. It was a Christmas party gig in a room full of work outings and it was going to be bedlam. The rest of the audience looked really nice and even somewhat sophisticated, there was even a group in the room from a company called Fine & Rare Wines, but these ladies were going to be trouble. You could just smell it.

And there was bedlam in the room indeed. One table refused to shut up, some of them even refused to sit down when we started the show. The loud and scary women at the front quietly and respectfully asked them to keep the noise down. That's right. They may as well have offered me a margarita. Soon, the rest of the room was calling on this table to keep quiet and, a little while before they were thrown out, I asked them what company they worked for. One spikey haired little cunt among them shouted "Fine & Rare Wines" and started cheering.

Sigh.

Their boss came up to me and said that being repeatedly asked to be quiet and then being told to leave was a bit strong, after all they'd only been talking amongst themselves. I told him that you don't go to the theatre and talk amongst yourselves, do you? His mind just drifted away for two minutes while he thought about this. "I see your point", he said. WHY DO PEOPLE NEED TO BE TOLD TO SHUT UP IN COMEDY CLUBS? What is it about a comedy club that people don't feel it's important or respectful to not talk constantly and just enjoy the show? If you have the answer, please tell me. It's baffled me for years.

Then the "annoying" women who turned out to be nice bought me a drink. That's twice I've been wrong in one night. Let's make it three times. A man came up to me after the gig saying nice things about me and not so nice things about Fine & Rare Wine. He seemed very knowledgeable about comedy, professing to be a fan of Stewart Lee, Daniel Kitson and even Mr. Show, an American sketch show that I love. He seemed a clever man and was certainly very complimentary and polite. He liked my spontaneity on stage and said that was what he found most interesting about any comedian. I felt proud. Then he said "I mean I know that spontaneity is the lowest form of wit but I like it"

Sigh.

By the way, I lied about Tramadol Nights.

www.michaellegge.info

3 comments:

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Anonymous said...

When you mentioned at the start of this post that Tramadol Nights was clever this week, I thought "really?!", so I did chuckle quite a bit at your closing confession!

Richard Elsey said...

Hi Michael,

I know the Christmas number one campaigns are a clich├ęd thing, but the one that isn't getting any press attention, despite being number one in the Amazon's Latin Chart ( http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/bestsellers/dmusic/118646031/ ), and selling more in their main chart than that murdering of Heroes is Kunt and The Gang's Use My Arsehole as A Cunt.

As a man who enjoys a good c-bomb, can you take a listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mv1OigmYcvQ
and if you like what you hear, give the campaign a tweet?

I know the title makes it sound a bit Tramadol Nights, but for my ears it's more like Eric Idle (before he went rubbish).

Thanks mister!