Doors opened at 6pm, so taking the car wasn't an option without paying through the nose to park (on-street parking is £1 for 15 mins up to 10 pm). The plan was to drive to Ibrox, get the subway to Kelvinbridge, and then walk to the venue. I figured half an hour for the drive, 20 minutes for the subway, and five for the walk. We left at 5 o'clock (pm, obviously). Either I was lucky, or I'd overestimated my timings. We got there at 5.40 pm. There was only one person waiting, so we didn't join the queue but rather initiated it. The cold stare from my wife mimicked the windchill as a rain shower dampened her enthusiasm.
I was happy, though, to be second in the queue, later third when the woman's partner arrived. The seats I preferred on the balcony had been reserved, so we sat close by in the same row. Sorted. I bought my wife a red wine. She was happy that it came in a proper glass.
We had an hour to kill before the show started. I noticed the songs being played all had a common theme. Richard must have searched Spotify (other music streamers are available) for any song containing the word "Balls". We got Chef from South Park's "Salty Chocolate Balls", Pulp's "Can I Have My Balls Back, Please?", "Bouncing Balls" by The Wiggles, "Big Balls" and "She's Got Balls" by ACDC, among a myriad of other ball-related tracks. Talk about setting a tone.
I passed the time reading the programme, which could be downloaded via a QR code. That's a clever, money-saving technique for adding value to the show. I'm sure after the tour, he'll make it available on his website, www.RichardHerring.com.
The show itself was much as expected. I've listened to (and attended) his RHLSTP podcast often enough to understand his sense of humour. There were lots of jokes and silliness (such as a spot of ventriloquism with his talking bollock) as he raced through his timeline, from his initial awareness of the testicular swelling through all the different stages of diagnosis to its eventual removal and post-treatment therapy. The heart of the show shone through his love for his family, despite his evil witch of a daughter randomly predicting he would die in fourteen months, long before the cancer diagnosis (she was four at the time). The pictures of him falling into lava and being eaten by a crocodile were amusing.
One shock I had during the show was when he leaned to one side and said a line, addressing the audience on his right. Then he leaned to his left and said the line again for the other side, before repeating the process for comic effect—a play straight out of Stewart Lee's book. Sacrilege or taking the piss? Regardless, it was still funny, just out of character for Richard.
After the show, Richard remained in the corridor to sign autographs, sell merch, and pose for selfies. We didn't wait. Given the length of that queue, I sensed that would be pushing my wife too far. She enjoyed the show but wanted to get home.
The Subway ride back to the car reminded me of being at the Transport Museum, only with real people instead of video passengers. We sat at the end of a carriage near the rubber connectors. A tannoy message said to report anything suspicious to the staff. I said I'd have to report my wife because she'd been nice to me, and that qualified as suspicious. I got that look—the eyes tightened—that said 'ha ha', but not in a funny way. She did laugh after I banged my head against the carriage wall, the unexpected turbulent rocking motion catching me unaware.
It was a good night with only minor concussion. I was still able to drive home.
Ticket Price: £44.60 for two (including £1.60 booking fee) directly from The Stand.
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