Tonight was a masterclass in hilarity.
From the moment he walked on stage, Tommy owned the room. Dressed all in black, save for the maroon band around his trilby and the white surround of his shoes, the comedy tinker eeked mirth from every pore. Lyrical at times, he always kept a twinkle in his eye and a cheeky grin beneath his grey beard to let everyone know he was joking, no matter how awful the thing he'd said. There was a tremendous physicality to his performance too which exaggerated every laugh.
Having no support act helped transport us into his world, his voice (no matter which accent he was abusing) held us rapt from one beautiful line to the next belly-shaking whopper. The craic was flowing freely and it was a shame it had to end. The man claims to be made of dreams and I think that's true. I'll not remember many of his lines but I'll keep that warm memory with me for a lot longer. It was a great night.
That was until my wife complained about my driving on the way home and we got into a fight, which she won with hurt silence. I wish I could travel back into Tommy's world. To sleep, perchance to dream of twenty-four-year-olds.
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