Week thirty-one

I didn't think that on a normal Wednesday evening I'd be encouraged to shout "die" at the top of my voice to complete strangers but thats what happened when I went to see The Comedy Store Players at The Comedy Store in Leicester Square.

I can't actually believe I've never been to a proper comedy club before, let alone this one and I've lived in London now for 8 years.  Its shameful, so when my friend Ian suggested it for one of my weeks I jumped at the chance.

The best way to describe the twice weekly night is as essentially the same as Whose Line Is It Anyway. (Although the TV program came after) A group of 6 or so comedians that improvise the entire night, creating scenes, characters and songs whose descriptions and genres are suggested from the audience.

I was quite surprised that on a hot and humid summer evening the place was completely full up, especially since these guys do this twice a week and have been doing so for years.  But, oh, had I forgotten (just momentarily) what rapturous joy it is to laugh and laugh so uproariously.  

I recognised most of the evening's line-up; Neil Mullarkey, Richard Vranch, Lee Simpson, Suki Webster, Andy Smart and Steve Steen.  They began with the rather incriminating Die Game.  Basically, they had to tell a story that passed from person to person with complete seamlessness and if anyone of them stuttered, the entire audience had to shout die and remove that person until last man standing.  

A show of any kind when a performer talks to an audience regardless of being a musician or a comedian or a speaker is always going to be good if that performer finds a way of relating to and involving their audience.  That is why this particular show is such genius because the whole premise is that each of the comedians is invoking the audience's own charisma to make the show.

Somehow or other we managed to invent a career for Neil to guess, that was a flattener of the pages of a library book called "A guide to Badger Fancying", using the burnt crisps that had been removed from the conveyor belt at a Walkers Factory.  Duh? What?  Just mental.  Yet watching the other comedians trying to explain it to him with their less than grammatical phrases was belly-achingly funny. Andy Smart in particular is just a body of awesomeness.  Throughout the entire thing he was laughing as much as the audience and watching him crack up just made me laugh even more.  Although, I do think he looks like he might collapse at any moment - when he laughs he turns redder than an archetypal Father Xmas.  But he's utterly infectious and the thing I love so much is that he genuinely is having a barrel of laughs.

What becomes fairly apparent early on is that these guys have absolutely no fear whatsoever when it comes to making complete fools of themselves, but they do it with the greatest of panache and such authority.  When we told Steve Steen he was to describe his job as a bee-keeper in Croatian, he dove right in like a complete pro.  

The second half was mostly dedicated to a more long-winded sketch; a Jane Austen style musical complete with simpleton farmers, pompous Lords and fickle women.  But the absolute star for me was Lee Simpson, loose-limbed and goofy he played a limping woman with a disfigured face.  When told by his mistress played by Suki to stop curtseying he replied "Its not a curtsey, I'm just having a fit".

A couple more games and that was that.  Done.  Mid-week therapy session over. Because that's what it is not only for the audience but for the Players too - a healthy dose of pick me up - something that's so good for the soul.  No wonder why they've been doing it so long.  If I'm feeling a bit depressed you know where to find me.  You must all go too. Now.  Details here.

This week I'll be pootling along to my local pitch and put.  I'll don my flat cap and pringle v-neck.