Ria Lina "Riabellion", The Stand, Glasgow. Sunday 22nd February, 2026.

A Sunday afternoon show.

As seems to be the norm at The Stand now, the room's doors didn't open at the advertised time. We got there for three, anyway, just in case, and had a drink while we waited. Arriving early at least meant we got a seat in the bar. We joined the queue when it stretched from the corridor into the bar area, and we got in at approximately 3:40 pm for a 4pm start.

The curtain had been pulled across the back of the room, so it wasn't going to be a sellout. We sat at a table near the doors, in case the show overran and we needed to make a quick exit (the show was billed as finishing at 5.40; the last subway was at 6).  

Disapppointingly there was no support act. Fred MacAulay had opened for her in Edinburgh, and he was billed to appear at the Stand's Sunday Service that evening, so I'd hoped he'd be there to give us twenty, but no. Instead, we got extra Ria, which is no bad thing.

In this section, she did the usual, crowdwork mixed in with pre-prepared topical material, mainly about Andrew, the nonce formerly known as Prince. The front row were all foreigners: two Australians, a Lithuanian, a Georgian, and a Dutchman. So much for Brexit, she quipped.

After the fifteen-minute interval, she treated us to her tour show, an hour of outrage and anger directed at the world and her family life, due in part to her being divorced, single, a parent of three and perimenopausal. 

I'd seen the WIP last year and watched the Edinburgh livestream, so I knew most of the material. While I enjoyed Ria's performance, it failed to elevate in the room, possibly due to the smaller audience. Occasional stunned silences were met with incredulity by Ria, who'd expected a bigger laugh. I don't remember these silences being built into the show, even though she had a comeback ready.  

The dance she did as a closer made the point that, as a perimenopausal woman, she didn't care what we thought. I felt it would have worked better if she'd invited others on stage to share in her freedom, making the ending a bigger celebration.    

Her jokes were funny and well-told, but I never fully engaged with the material. Despite making certain bits sciency with talk about the reactions of specific hormones, it still felt like she was playing to half the room. I'd rate the show three stars. 

We nipped away as soon as the show was over, as we didn't have time to meet Ria afterwards (she hadn't brought merch because it would have cost too much to fly it up with her, but she did pose for selfies and had badges to give away). Despite our swift departure, we still missed the last inner line train to Ibrox, so we had to go all the way around on the outer line. This, plus the motorway traffic being a mess, meant we didn't get back till nearly 7 pm. 

Not ideal.

The dogs were starving.

Ticket Price (in advance): £17 x2 + Booking Fee £1.60 = Total £35.60 from The Stand website.

 

"Meyrick, Murders and Memories", St Columba’s Church Hall, Stewarton. Thursday 12th February, 2026

An evening in memory of author Denzil Meyrick, from a suggestion by Quintin Jardine, organised by Douglas Skelton and his wife, Sarah, of the Book Nook, Stewarton. 

When I told Caro Ramsay that my wife and I were attending this event, she asked if I could do her a favour. She was now unable to attend, so could we help by taking Alex Gray along? 

No problem. I jumped at the chance of sharing the journey with the esteemed crime writer.

What I hadn't factored in when organising timings was how unfamiliar I was with Stewarton, especially in the dark. Although we arrived on schedule, I couldn't find the church car park and ended up driving around. At one point, while waiting at traffic lights, Alex flung open her passenger door and shouted across to a young girl passing by if she knew where the church was. Having been given directions, we made a couple of turns and entered the small car park where the hall is located. No spaces left, though, except for a disabled one, so we dropped Alex off and drove to find a space elsewhere, locating one on a nearby street.

By the time we returned, the hall was packed, with over a hundred attendees. The staff had to set out two more chairs for us at the back. 

The heartfelt tributes from the authors present and those who contributed via pre-recorded videos repeated the same message: he was a good friend, would always be there to help, and no one was spared his wicked sense of humour. Everyone expressed their sense of loss, missing him dearly. He touched so many hearts with his friendship, generosity, and writing.

It wasn't a sad occasion, though. Many of the authors, especially Douglas, shared funny anecdotes and examples of what Denzil was like, even when they were the butt of his jokes.

A quiz and an auction were held to raise money for the British Heart Foundation. 

The only issue on the night was the acoustics in the hall when the videos were played. It was sometimes difficult to make out what the contributors were saying, especially Caro, whose message was partially drowned out by the waves behind her. 

I didn't feel the need to photograph the event, but I took this one at the end. I could have magicked out the lady and her camera (bottom left), but Douglas's legs might have looked funny.   

(L-R) Douglas and Sarah Skelton, Quintin Jardine, Alex Kane,
Fiona Meyrick, Alex Gray, Morgan Cry (rear), Olga Wojtas, Michael J Malone 

When we dropped Alex home again, after discussing her literary tastes, her life as a teacher, and her love of St Mirren FC, she kindly gave my wife her proof copy of "The Christmas Stocking Murders", which also contained the memorial's running order. She gave me a bottle of wine. What a lovely woman!

Running Order

   

Chris Ramsay "Here, Man!", King's Theatre, Glasgow. Monday 9th February, 2026

No sooner had I flown back from Bristol than I was off out again to see Chris Ramsay at the King's. 

The audience was buzzing. When the lights went down, and Chris introduced his support act, the surge of applause felt more like a rally, with the audience cheering enthusiastically. 

Carl Hutchinson is a Geordie comedian whose star is in the ascendant, thanks to his close association with Chris. His material is mainstream, mainly about his family, but he knows how to build a routine, his closer tonight being particularly strong. His description and demonstration of the sound made by explosive diarrhoea were so true. 

I'll confess to tuning out at times during his set as weariness took over. Not that I had such problems staying awake for Chris. His energy and enthusiasm were electric.

Chris opened by sharing his concern that we'd think he'd deliberately copied Carl in choosing what to wear, since both were in the same style and colour of shirt. He even went so far as to bring Carl back out to prove that it was a different shirt from his own.  

Chris then moved on to his proper set, letting us know he is both a scumbag and a snob, and went on to explain why. If another child disses his kids, his first instinct is to want to beat up the disser's dad. He fantasises about it all day, knowing he'll never actually follow through with the intention.

Thanks to the money from the hit podcast Sh*gged. Married. Annoyed, Chris and Rosie aspired to move somewhere nice and chose Northumberland, not realising they'd reached too high and would have to slide down a couple of rungs to feel comfortable again. Chris knew they wouldn't fit in when all the local kids had names like Atticus, Balthazar, and even Aslan, or when he had to explain to a six-year-old what a cheese toastie was. The final straw came when one of his children asked if he could start to call Rosie his mummy instead of his maw. It was then that they knew they'd have to move somewhere closer to their level. 

Chris loves Rosie dearly, but needed to share with us privately how much her micromanaging gets on his nerves. I could relate to that, being asked to do something, then getting berated for not doing it the way my wife would have done it. 

"Did you not think?" she would scold.

"Not like you, obviously," would be my unspoken thought.  

The podcast brought them fame and fortune, but it was cursed. On the chat show circuit, he and Rosie were the last to be interviewed by Phil and Holly. On Graham Norton, they shared the couch with P Diddy the week the allegations against him broke (generating a nice gag remarking that Diddy is the only celeb whose name can be used in response to any wild statement, followed by the answer, "Yes, he did"). 

Their next appearance on Graham Norton elicited a star turn, which was later cut from the broadcast. When Graham introduced Lin-Manuel via video link, Will Smith began showing off by reciting the opening rap from Hamilton. He was surprised when Chris and Rosie joined in, both of them word-perfect. When Will fell silent after four lines, Chris and Rosie kept going, all the way to the end of the song, receiving a huge round of applause from the studio audience.

Now, Chris does not have definite proof that Will's team requested the cut... but he knows it's true. Fortunately, Chris's management recorded the whole segment on their phone from the Green Room monitor, and Chris was more than happy to share the footage with us tonight. The look on Will Smith's face when he realises he's been outrapped by two relative nobodies from South Shields is priceless.  

Chris posited the theory that the humiliating incident got under Will's skin, where it festered for a month, eventually boiling over into fury at a certain awards ceremony, where he stormed the stage and slapped a comedian... called Chris. 

This was a great night of comedy. Chris has a natural talent for being funny. Highly recommended.   

However, those of us on the right side of the stalls at the front were unfortunately treated to a second show within the show (as in she made a show of herself). A small blonde lady, a few rows from the front, three rows ahead of us, decided Chris was talking to her and kept replying. I don't think she was drunk, given how steadily she rose to her feet, put on her coat and exited immediately after the show, but she seemed definitely on something, her head resting against the back of the seat, her body reclining deeply, her arm frequently rising into the air like a garage forecourt dummy. 

Her voice was of a pitch that stood out, though often unintelligible. Chris would hear her and pause to listen, upsetting his flow. He engaged with her once, then quickly learned to ignore her rather than pander. But she kept on and on with her comments. 

After the show, as we shuffled out of the room, the man who had been sitting beside her received a pat on the back from a stranger and asked how he put up with that. The man shook his head and said he didnt know. He was a better man than me. I'd have stormed out to find an usher to have her removed. Or worse, done it myself. Nightmare.

Ticket Price: £32.00 x2 + Service Fee: £4 x2 + Handling Fees £2.75 = Total £74.75 from Ticketmaster.

Slapstick Festival, Thursday 5th to Sunday 8th February, 2026.

THURSDAY
I didn't make it down for the start of the festival, which began on Wednesday, arriving instead midafternoon on Thursday (Wednesday's events didn't justify paying the extra night's hotel bill). After checking into the hotel, I made the short walk to the Watershed to collect my Festival Pass lanyard, though I was less successful picking up my Bristol Beacon tickets, as their box office was shut for the day due to an event. 

Louise Fazenda: Queen of Slapstick

My first event, "Louise Fazenda: Queen of Slapstick", was hosted by Lucy Porter. She'd done her homework and brought her notes to prove it. She treated us to three silent shorts and one clip from a talkie. Unfortunately, my eyes drooped with sleepiness early on, which is a major drawback when viewing a 'silent' movie. I enjoyed the piano work by Daan van den Hurk and his percussionist. 

The next event took place in a side room rather than the cinema. Essentially a Laurel & Hardy fan film documenting their connection to Yorkshire, with the filmmaker interviewing Laurel's distant relatives, visiting the theatres where the double act played, and speaking with the curator of the Laurel and Hardy Museum and members of the fan club. 

Dean Sills, the filmmaker, was present to discuss his film in his thick Barnsley accent. I got the sense that he'd rather the film spoke for itself. This wasn't a must-see event; it was aimed more at the niche Laurel and Hardy fan scene. Without my festival pass, I'd have skipped it.

For the shorts, Harry Hill was joined by his occasional collaborator Sean Foley. Harry had chosen Towed in the Hole and Helpmates as his two favourites, but it became obvious he hadn't done much prep for the event, relying on his comedy banter to entertain the crowd rather than conveying any original insights into the double act. He selected Sons of the Desert as his favourite feature. I had no recollection of ever seeing it before.

Back from the dead

Sean and Harry

The Aquarium Megascreen organisation was a bit haphazard. I ended up near the back of the queue, then overheard that they were using both sets of stairs, so I turned around and stood almost at the front of what became the other queue. 

FRIDAY

I skipped the first event of the day, "The Flapper" starring Olive Thomas. I didn't fancy the 9.30 am start. Instead, I had a leisurely breakfast, bought tickets to Horse at the Bungalow, edited more of my novel (yes, still editing) and wandered into the centre to buy a Boots meal deal for lunch. On the way to the Watershed, I stopped off at the Beacon to pick up my event tickets for that venue. To my surprise, the specific seats hadn't been pre-selected, so I got to choose where I wanted to sit from the reserved area. They also printed paper copies, which are always good souvenirs, and emailed me the electronic versions.

Before & After Laurel & Hardy

I wasn't impressed by the short films shown during this event. The slapstick seemed signposted and pedestrian, lacking inspiration. Perhaps that was the reason these female double acts were overlooked. Lucy Porter and film historian Pamela Hutchinson provided excellent background on the duos and were funnier than what was shown on screen.  

Buster Keaton: Our Hospitality

I went for a walk before this event to locate St George's, the venue for most of Sunday's events, but the rain became heavy, so I aborted the mission (I hadn't brought an umbrella or a waterproof hat). It was then that I felt loneliest, unfamiliar with my surroundings, killing time wandering with no one to talk to. Drenched, I returned to the Watershed somewhat weary. As usual, I stuffed my beanie hat into my jacket pocket, not wanting to risk losing it.

Once again, I found myself afflicted with long blinks, occasionally missing moments of the film as my mind wandered. From what I saw, it's easy to admire Keaton's comedic eye and timing. Some aspects of the film were inspired, but not sufficient to wow me.

Afterwards, our host, Polly Rose, held a live Zoom call with Keaton's granddaughter, now a pensioner. She lives in California, so she had to get up really early to join us. It was funny to think the baby we'd just watched in the film was actually her dad.

The Likely Lads at 60

I was looking forward to this next panel, as I love the comic writing of Dick Clement and Ian le Frenais. Much to my disappointment, they were not present. Instead, our host interviewed them during a video call earlier in the week. The chat was still interesting, and the clips shown from both The Likely Lads and Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads demonstrated how sharp their scripts were. Their mantra: Comedy must come from character, not from jokes, to elicit bigger laughs.

I couldn't decide between a solo dinner at the Hotel's Beefeater or a trip to McDonald's, but ended up pausing outside a busy Chinese restaurant, which appeared to have a few tables spare. The menu prices looked okay, and there was an award in the window for Best Deliveroo Chinese Restaurant 2025, so my taste buds decided I should dine there instead.

Oddly, they sat me at a table for twelve, leaving a space between the other solo patron and me. The empty tables I'd seen from outside were all reserved, so all the walk-ins ended up at this table. It was funny listening to the others summon a waitress to ask for cutlery instead of using the chopsticks provided. The food was delicious, but I managed to get some sweet-and-sour sauce on my fingers.  On the way to the gala, I discovered the sweets in my jacket pocket had become wet and sticky. My pocket was soaking. Disaster! And now my fingers were even stickier. I couldn't sit through an evening of silent films in this condition. With time already tight, I returned to the hotel to wash up. Best decision ever. And I realised the reason my pocket was wet: I'd stuffed my soaking hat in there after the afternoon downpour. Idiot.

I still managed to arrive on time at the Beacon and swiftly made my way to my seat without interrupting too many seated individuals. The event was great. Stephen Mangan hosted, displaying his usual charm and wit. All three silent films were excellent: Laurel & Hardy's Leave Em Laughing, Buster Keaton's The Boat (with Rick Wakeman accompanying effortlessly on piano as he watched along), and Charlie Chaplin's The Kid. I'd never seen any of these films before and enjoyed them all. I even stayed awake for every frame, despite my full stomach.

A local choir treated us to their rendition of Charlie Chaplin's song "Smile". The biggest thrill, however, was seeing the world premiere of "Joke", a short film of sketches based on Barry Cryer's best jokes. The acting talent was incredible, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though I knew many of the punchlines.

Fun fact: Rick Wakeman used to be Charlie Chaplin's neighbour when they both lived in Switzerland. Rick enthused over how lovely Charlie was as a person.

My only issue during the event was the gentleman sitting beside me. I could forgive him for humming off-pitch during "Smile". I could put up with his nose sounding like he was breathing through taffeta paper whenever he sniffed. But when he reached into his bag and pulled out a packet of crisps, that was a step too far. Who crunches crisps during a silent movie screening? And they were Cheese N Onion. Boak! 

Saturday

I skipped the first event of the day, a showing of Yasujiro Ozu's early silent comedy, Where Now are the Dreams of Youth? It held no appeal to me.

When I arrived at the Beacon, a massive record fair was in full swing (other musical genres were available, too), taking up the foyer space on multiple levels. I worked my way through the crowd to the access level indicated on my ticket, only to be told by the usher that the door was not in use and that I would need to exit the building and use the entrance beside the Colonnade restaurant. Cue another struggle to get back out. 

Once I found myself in the right location, the organisation for the event from the Beacon side seemed chaotic. None of us knew if both doors to the Lantern Hall would be used or where we should queue. The corridor was already packed by the time I arrived. 

Then, after our ticket was scanned, we had to wait for a pointless wristband for no apparent reason (we didn't get one for any other event at the venue afterwards). Was it an extra souvenir, or did they just not know what they were doing? 

I had a seat in the second row for all today's events. Not the same one, but close. And it was here that I finally managed to strike up a conversation with another attendee. He had sat in the front row but noticed the seats had numbers and asked me if I had a specific seat assigned to me. I showed him my ticket, pointing to the seat number, and he realised he should be sitting next to me. From there, we chatted about various festival topics and shared our opinions on how things were going until the lights dimmed.

Comedy historian Robert Ross interviewed Rick for this event, where Rick picked his favourite musical comedy pieces: Frankie Howerd & June Whitfield, Victoria Wood, Les Dawson, Bernard Cribbins, Mel Smith (Not the Nine O'clock News), Spike Milligan, The Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band and Arthur Mullard & Hylda Baker, none of which had been listed in the Festival brochure. Rick explained why he had chosen them, usually with a showbiz story about how he'd encountered the people involved, through personal or professional friendships, or not, if it was just a song he liked. Robert Ross was very good at providing background info, some of which Rick hadn't known.

I had hoped the attendee I'd been talking to might have been interested in getting some food, but he said his goodbyes and we parted ways.

After nipping to Greggs for a sausage roll, which I ate under the overhang of the opposite building to stay out of the rain, I returned to the venue. On the way up the stairs, I recognised the gentleman behind me and asked him if he'd been to see Adele Cliff at the Edinburgh Fringe two years ago. He looked suspiciously at me, but confirmed that he had. I explained that I'd noticed him at Slapstick two years ago (not mentioning that his long hair had blocked my view of Sylvester McCoy for the entire event) and later in Edinburgh, but had never spoken to him. We then spent the rest of the wait chatting about all things comedy, discovering he was as big a comedy geek as I am. 

He explained that the next show was really a kids' show, which is why there were so many noisy children present with their parents. 

Andy Day, with his tallness and toothy grin, resembles the living embodiment of an Aardman character, only not made of clay or plasticine. His upbeat, confident disposition won over most of the crowd, who sang along to his dinosaur song. Not me. I wasn't going to wave my arm from side to side like it was a Coldplay concert.

The stage housed the thirty-piece City of Bristol Brass Band, which would accompany only one of the two films being shown: Buster Keaton's One Week, as there were difficulties with the print of Wallace and Gromit: The Wrong Trousers. 

The band were very good. I even learned they don't use regular trumpets as you'd expect, favouring the piccolo version for its sweeter sound. Unfortunately, their presence so close to the front of the stage hindered my view of the lower part of the screen. 

I'd probably give this show a miss in future. It was truly aimed at kids, finishing with Andy getting a custard pie in the face from a costumed teddy bear policeman.

Alexei Sayle was a favourite of mine back in the day, especially his tv work. The material was surreal, political, blasphemous, and, most of all, hilarious. I hadn't seen any clips from the series in years (it ran from 1988-91), and I loved the ones they picked to show today. Alexei was blessed to share writing duties with the amazing talents of David Renwick and Andrew Marshall, and bemoaned that they left him to move on to bigger things, yet never offered him cameos in their hit shows.

The chat sections with interviewer Robin Ince were funny, too. Although neither had watched any of the clips in advance, and introduced them only by their length, you could tell Robin really appreciated Alexei's work. They had a great time on stage together. 

This event sold out quickly, so fast in fact I ended up buying the Festival Pass that the only way I could get in was to buy the Full Festival Pass to attend. Lee is a sharp, naturally funny guy, a bit like Eric Morecambe in his swift comebacks, so this was always going to be good. I was surprised when a woman came out to introduce him, especially as the ticket said it would be Matthew Sweet. I had to ask Nick who she was, as she didn't say her name: Alex Lovell, a television presenter on ITV West Country. 

She had done her research and knew exactly what was in all the clips. Lee was very funny throughout. Tim Vine and Sally Bretton had recorded messages for Lee, praising him for twenty years of the show. I learned that each script for "Not Going Out" is read through like a radio show at a special preview for an audience of only fifty, ahead of the recording, to weed out the chaff. Unfortunately for Lee, these previews are so popular with fans that they end up grabbing all the tickets, so the audience tends to laugh at everything, which isn't helpful.

He talked about the various iterations of the show and how it evolved. He's still not sure exactly why Tim Vine, one of his best mates, chose to leave the programme, suggesting Tim preferred to pursue his own comedic path. They're still buddies.

There was barely time to mention all the great actors in the show, but they did talk about Bobby Ball's inclusion as Lee's Dad. Bobby was so well-liked that he could get away with not learning his lines beforehand and would often hold court in the pub after the recording, performing his comedy routines for everyone. 

At the very end, a gentleman at the front hijacked the Q&A to ask a different kind of question: a marriage proposal. Lee was mock aggrieved, complaining that the whole event was supposed to be about him. The couple were brought up onto the stage to receive a round of applause (and a bunch of flowers, which Lee joked had come from the local petrol station).

I skipped the final event of the day, the feature film "One Cut of the Dead", electing to save my arse from further assault from the Lantern Hall's seating. Nick was heading back to his hotel, so I went back to mine, too. I was glad I did, as the Saturday nightlife was already turning fractious: as I arrived at the hotel, one guy did a number on one of the public electric scooters, because it was in his way (when I say a number, I don't mean a one or a two; I mean the vehicle took a kicking).

Returning early meant getting to update this blog at a reasonable hour.

No idea if it's any good.

Sunday

I was up early for breakfast in order to catch the first event of the day, Laurel and Hardy's last film, Atoll K, showing at the Watershed at 9.30 am. Having skipped dinner the night before, I was surprised when my stomach reprised its contents into my throat, disgusted at being filled on three consecutive days with overcooked Beefeater breakfasts. I kept my fingers crossed that I wouldn't follow through during the upcoming film in case the audience thought it was a criticism of the movie, which, to be fair, was not great.

Laurel & Hardy: Atoll K (1951)

Robert Ross and the Festival Director, Chris Daniels, introduced the film and discussed its troubled production. Stan and Olly hadn't made a movie in years, and this was intended as their big-screen comeback. That didn't happen, despite being rereleased several times under different titles. 

Chris and Rob

As a European co-production, it didn't feel like a typical Laurel & Hardy vehicle, perhaps because it came later. Laurel looked gaunt, and their chemistry was diluted rather than enhanced by the other cast members. As a satire of world politics, it ticked some boxes, so not a complete waste of time.

St George's

Most of today's events were held at St George's, a rather fine church conversion. I had to collect my tickets from the box office on the day, so I did so after Atoll K. The box office queuing system was not well organised as the counter was located in the corridor leading to the loos, so it wasn't obvious who was waiting for what. An older gentleman failed to notice I was waiting and jumped in front of me to get served. I restrained myself from blasting him with my full Malcolm Tucker, though if I'd had a bottle of water to hand, I might have had a go at my own spot of slapstick. I'd have enjoyed lifting his woolly hat, slowly emptying the entire bottle over his head, then carefully replacing it.

Adams Hills interviewed Sanjeev Bhaskar about what he loved about Laurel & Hardy. Sanjeev picked clips from A Chump at Oxford (1940), Blotto (1930) and the classic The Music Box (1932). It was interesting to watch the two comic minds in tune with one another, from the moment Adam came on stage, Sanjeev silently walked around behind him, something they'd cooked up as they waited backstage. 

I was too engrossed to make notes, but I found the talk informative and entertaining. And it was glorious to see The Music Box again. I'd forgotten the punchline. 

Sanjeev had an interesting insight in that he believed Wallace & Gromit were today's Laurel & Hardy: sight gags, outlandish ideas, buddy chemistry, both funny in their own way.

Some great comedy insights from the pair.

Next up, we shifted over to the Glass Studio for Robert Ross's discussion of his book, Seriously Silly, about the life of Terry Jones. Robert knew his stuff, not nicknamed the comedians' historian for nothing. He was a longtime friend of the Python, spending a lot of time in his company both at Terry's home and at various pubs. He got emotional when discussing the ending (spoiler: Terry dies). Robert's wife conducted the interview, and I loved how supportive she was of him and how she asked interesting questions. The room was not ideal for the number of people, as it was long and thin. When Sanjeev joined the pair to discuss his relationship with Terry J, I couldn't see him because his chair was obscured by the two people in front of me. Imagine how bad the view was further back.

Sanjeev had met Terry after accepting the role of King Arthur in Spamalot, though, at that time, was unaware of Terry's dislike for the musical. Terry was kind enough to give him notes on playing the character as envisioned in the film. Their friendship grew from there, and Sanjeev later appeared in Terry's film Absolutely Anything. Sanjeev could only stay a short time as he was filming later and had a car coming for him. Unfortunately, he left his phone on silent and missed his alarm, so he really had to rush away.

Seriously Silly: A Celebration of Terry Jones

Rob and his wife, Gemma

Joined by Sanjeev
(photo captured by holding the camera out into the aisle)

I never had much interest in The Thick of It, despite it containing the powerhouse performance by Peter Capaldi as Malcolm Tucker. It was still entertaining to hear how the series came about and what it was like making it. It didn't feel like twenty years ago when it was on.

There was an hour's gap before the next event, so I wandered up the road to find somewhere for dinner, eventually choosing The Berkeley, a Westerspoons pub. Inside, I spotted Nick at a table and joined him, chatting while we ate. I had a BBQ stack burger and managed to drip the sauce on my fingers. The meal had taken a while to arrive, longer to eat, so there wasn't time to wash my hands before the next event. 

Journalist Samira Ahmed interviewed Armando for the next section, professionally covering his career and having him set up the clips, timing the event to perfection. We saw excerpts from The Day Today, The Armando Iannucci Show, The Death of Stalin, The Thick of It and Veep. Whenever I clapped, I became conscious that my hands still smelled of BBQ sauce, so during the applause breaks, I instead elected to slap my thigh. At all other times, I hid my hands beneath the curl of my jacket. 

At the end of this event, Chris Daniels (Festival Director) and Bob Crier (son of Barry Crier) presented Armando with the inaugural Golden Baz award.

After the event, I rushed to the loos to wash my hands. This delay meant I ended up sitting near the back, beside Nick, for Adam and Mike's Show and Tell. Although I had an aisle seat, I could barely see Adam Hills or Mike McCartney, except on the phone screen belonging to the man in front, videoing the panel. 

Both had brought a bag containing four objects, the idea being that they would tell stories about them. 

Adam brought:

His first prosthetic leg, which came with an attached athletic shoe, so he always had to wear a white trainer on the other foot to match. 

A tennis sweatband, which Boris Becker had given him. Adam had been a ball boy in Sydney. This led to an Ivan Lendl/Pat Cash anecdote about having to remove non-existent sawdust from the court, after Lendl messed with him.

His red-and-green toy rabbit, which his father had given him as a baby, led to a story about Disability Rugby League.

His passport, leading to a bit about singing national anthems to the tunes of other songs, e.g. the German anthem to 99 Red Balloons and the Canadian anthem to Bryan Adams' Summer of '69, which he then performed for us, complete with backing track.

Mike's items:

A Nikon camera that his brother Paul had gifted him, leading to an anecdote about how Mike wrote the Cadbury Roses advert song, "Thank you very much."

His British Empire medal, introducing stories about Queen Elizabeth;

A bottle of Lydia Pinkum's medicinal compound, as per the Lily the Pink song by The Scaffold. The medicine was actually marketed to women to treat menopause and menstrual problems. He once showed Martha Reeves the bottle, and she remembered receiving the medicine as a teen.

The item I found most interesting was a tiny box, called the "Box of Smile". Mike explained it had been a gift from John Lennon, and when you opened it and looked inside, you realised it contained a mirror, which instinctively brought a smile to your face, hence the box of smile. Clever!

I recorded the introduction to the film In the Loop, in which Chris Addison and Armando Iannucci discuss the film's origin and production (see video below).

About halfway through the film, a bearded man wandered in carrying his worldly possessions in a backpack and sat in the middle of the front row. The smell coming from him was enough to make the man sitting behind him leave. I had to suck mints to stop me boaking. The man left immediately as the credits started, before the cinema lights came on, so I never got a proper look at him. He wasn't the beggar outside the cinema asking everyone for a pound.

That was my trip to Bristol to the Slapstick Festival. I made a new acquaintance and loved seeing Alexei Sayle, Lee Mack, and Armando Iannucci. Roll on next year's event.

Festival Pass: £250 plus £5 booking fee = £255 on the festival website (I missed the Early Bird offer, which would have cost £225 plus bf).