Dear Friends of German Comedy,
The obituaries of the recently deceased Wolfgang Wagner, Richard Wagner’s grandson, proved once again that being successful is selfish. For decades the whole Wagner clan has done nothing but feud over Richard’s legacy.
Having just come back from a chicken-in-a-basket comedy night in Cheltenham the how-to-cope-with-the-legacy-of-a-superstar worry is one worry my family doesn’t need to have.
The gig had all the ingredients for a memorable night, half the audience not facing the stage, and people so drunk as to be falling over their own feet.
Anyway, as the credo of the (Northern) club comedy circuit goes “you have to make them laugh”. Bollocks. I can’t think of anything worse than being a contributing factor to morons having a good time – if anything I want them to have as bad a time as possible.
If a comedian who resents making people laugh sounds to you like a doctor who doesn’t want to heal patients – well, they don’t call me the Harold Shipman of comedy for nothing.
The one good thing about the gig was the TV in the dressing room. It even had several sports channels, covering obscure events such as darts, motorbike racing and the competitive homoeroticism that is Ultimate Fighting.
One thing that struck me about all those nonsense sports is that all participants are being led out to the oche/grid/cage by prostitutes. You wouldn’t see such cheapness in football. Or at least let’s hope all the boys and girls accompanying football’s finest out onto the pitch are their out their own free will…. (yes, I’m firing on all comedy cylinders right now)
Have a great month!