by Harry Hill
‘Been there, done that,’ said Matt reaching into his pocket and handing her a hanky. ‘At this very venue, wasn’t it, Kit?’
‘It was, Matt, yes …’ nodded Kitty.
‘I died utterly and completely, and you know when it was?’
‘No …’ said Alex.
‘The night before The T Factor gig!’ He grinned. Kitty nodded. It was only a few weeks ago but it seemed like months. Alex pulled her head away from Matt’s jacket and looked up at him.
‘Really?’ she said. ‘You’re not just saying that?’
‘God’s honest truth.’
Alex had a couple more sniffles, then her face broke into a half smile. ‘So there’s hope then?’ she said, turning her big blue eyes to Matt.
‘Oh yes, there’s hope,’ said Matt. She blew her nose on Matt’s hanky and handed it back to him.
‘Er, you can keep that,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘Honestly, Alex, it really wasn’t that bad!’ said Kitty.
‘I s’pose you’re right,’ said Alex, brightening. ‘I mean I got a good laugh on the Adele impression …’
‘Exactly.’
‘And the Theresa March …’
‘Look, I’ll email you the recording and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. It was a good start.’
‘The impressions were good,’ said Matt. ‘You maybe just need to work on your gags a bit.’
‘That’s just it,’ said Alex. ‘I can’t write jokes like you can.’
‘Well, maybe that’s something Matt can help you with?’ said Bobby, catching up with them and giving Matt a wink.
Matt shuffled awkwardly on the spot.
‘Sorry about your jacket,’ said Alex changing the subject.
Matt looked down at his lapel which was wet with a mixture of tears and snot.
‘That’s fine,’ he said. ‘It needed a clean, anyway!’ Alex laughed and put on the voice of the woman from the TV show where they clean a house from top to bottom.
‘Never mind, luvvie,’ she said. ‘Little bit of lemon juice on that will bring it up lovely!’
Matt and Kitty burst out laughing. ‘You should put that in the act!’ they exclaimed in unison.
‘You think so?’ said Alex.
‘Yes! That’s spot on!’ said Matt. He was impressed – Alex had real talent. If she could control her nerves she could be great.
‘Five minutes, ladies and gentlemen,’ boomed a distant voice from the bar.
‘Uh-oh. I’d better get my head together,’ said Matt, remembering that he was on next. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Alex.’
*
Back in the bar the audience were still retaking their seats.
‘Fancy a drink, Matt?’ said Bobby, waving a fiver.
‘I’m fine thanks, Bobby. I don’t want to take on too much fluid …’ said Matt.
‘Absolutely, you don’t want to have to deal with the call of nature while you’re on stage. I’ll get you one for when you come off,’ said Bobby.
‘I won’t do long, Matt,’ said Barry, leaning in between the two comics. ‘I’ll just settle ’em down.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Bobby, giving him a paternal pat on the back. ‘Have a good one!’
Barry wandered up on to the stage and made a few announcements about upcoming events at the hotel and various special offers, and gradually the audience filtered back and took their seats. Then came the moment they’d all been waiting for.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve seen him on the telly and what’s good enough for The T Factor is good enough for the Cavendish Hotel! Please welcome Matt Millz!’
There was a huge cheer and a round of applause as Matt walked on. He stood behind the mic for a couple of seconds just taking it all in – it was quite astonishing. A lady in the front row put her hand up to shake his hand and as he took it she pulled him in for a kiss.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he said straightening his tie. ‘I thought I told you to wait in the car?’ There was a big laugh. Matt looked around and could see the audience all sat back, confident in his powers.
‘It’s great to be back in Frittledean!’ he bellowed. ‘Frittledean – such a small town it’s twinned with itself!’ Another big laugh. ‘Such a small town that when they painted the white lines down the middle of the high street they had to widen the road first!’
Another big laugh – these were all gags Matt had used before about another small town – he’d simply changed the name.
‘Rumour has it that a light bulb blew in the post office three years ago and it made the front page of the Frittledean Gazette!’ Another big laugh, building on the two before.
With the audience primed, Matt launched into the main body of his T Factor set.
‘Yes, you probably saw me on The T Factor the other week …’ he said. There was a huge cheer at the mention of the show’s name – everyone was really rooting for him, proud of what was in their eyes a local boy made good.
‘Yes, Simon Bewell, ladies and gentlemen, the only person in show business who has his hair dry-cleaned!’
There was a laugh after the gag, but a rather muted one – nothing like the one he’d got when he’d told it for the first time on The T Factor. Matt was momentarily thrown but pressed on.
‘I know you’re looking at me and thinking, blimey! He’s young! It’s true, I’m so young if I’m having a drink I still like to have a rusk with it!’ On The T Factor that gag had not only got a massive laugh it had got a round of applause too – but tonight there was just a nervous titter from the lady down the front who’d stolen a kiss.
And so it went on. As Matt plugged away at his ‘bulletproof’ T Factor set, the laughs got steadily smaller and the crowd steadily more restless.
Matt couldn’t understand it – these had been real zingers at the Apollo!
Then he heard something that made it all too clear why they weren’t laughing.
‘Heard it!’ a voice shouted from the back of the room. There was a general murmur of approval from the rest of the crowd.
Quick as a flash Matt shot back with one of his heckle put-down lines.
‘I was the same after my first pint!’ he said.
That got a few laughs but also a few groans.
‘You’re not listening, mate,’ the heckler retorted. ‘You need to get some new gags – we’ve heard ’em all!’ A large number of the audience nodded in agreement.
‘I’m sorry, mate, I don’t speak idiot,’ Matt shot back, but the audience could tell he was rattled.
Trouble was, he wasn’t sure that ‘Heard it!’ was strictly a heckle. It was in simple terms a statement of fact, and the audience knew it. Matt attempting to make a fool out of the heckler wasn’t going to wash. Everyone could see who the real fool was, it was Matt.
He could see a figure approaching the heckler and whispering in his ear – it was Bobby. The heckler pushed him away, shaking his head and wagging his finger at the old comic. He then cupped both hands to his mouth and shouted it for a third time. ‘Heard it, mate!’ And this time he twisted the verbal knife. ‘You’re a flash in the pan!’
Without thinking Matt made his second mistake – he got angry.
‘OK, well, if you think you can do better,’ he growled, ‘maybe you should come up here and have a go!’
He looked over at Bobby who was shaking his head. He then looked back at the crowd. To his utter horror the heckler was picking his way through the seats to the stage. Matt hadn’t expected for one moment that the heckler would take him up on his offer.
‘Go on, Dave!’ jeered the heckler’s girlfriend. ‘You show him!’ There was a smattering of half-hearted applause and the crowd looked at each other. Suddenly the gig had taken an unexpected turn!
Dave climbed up on to the stage and strolled nonchalantly towards Matt then held out his hand for the microphone. Matt looked at Bobby again who was shaking his head even more violently. Even at this late stage Matt could have told Dave to go and sit down but s
omething in him allowed the grim scenario to play out.
Matt frowned, handed the mic to the bloke, took a couple of steps back, folded his arms and leant against the back wall.
‘Bock! Bock!’ Dave tapped the microphone to make sure it was on, then cleared his throat. ‘Ahem!’
The audience was all concentrating on Dave, the room was as quiet as a library that had just been closed down due to government cutbacks, intrigued as to how this story was going to end.
‘OK, here’s one for you …’ said Dave.
Matt shook his head and rolled his eyes. ‘Who starts a joke like that?’ he thought to himself. ‘This won’t take long.’ This Dave was going to demonstrate just how hard the comedian’s job was.
‘OK! This bloke goes to the doctor’s and says, “Doctor I keep thinking people are ignoring me,” and the doctor says, “Next!”.’
Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, there was a massive laugh – so big was the laugh that even Dave looked surprised. He beamed a big broad smile, then turned triumphantly to Matt and nodded. Matt couldn’t believe it. That doctor joke was older than he was! Before he could react, Dave was warming up for his next one.
‘Knock! Knock!’ barked Dave.
‘Who’s there?’ replied the audience as one.
‘Cash!’ said Dave.
‘Cash who?’ came the response.
‘No thanks, I’ve got a nut allergy!’ said Dave.
Dave got his second big laugh, this time accompanied by a cheer.
‘Go, Dave!’ shouted his girlfriend, standing and waving.
This wasn’t in the rule book! What was Matt supposed to do now? He was standing like a lemon on the stage while Dave was having the gig of his life! He looked over at Bobby and pulled a face as if to say, ‘What do I do now?’ Bobby did a sideways movement with his thumb and mouthed, ‘Get off!’
Get off? Give up the stage? That really wasn’t something Matt wanted to do. He’d been desperate for stage-time for weeks and finally he was back where he felt he belonged. Yet the gig was slipping through his fingers like a pig covered in margarine!
‘No,’ he thought, knitting his brow into a frown. ‘I am Matt Millz! I can turn this around!’
Then Matt did something he’d never thought he’d find himself doing in a million years. He walked up behind Dave and tickled him under his arms. Dave immediately stopped mid-joke and let out a laugh.
So Matt tickled him again, then moved his hands down and tickled him on his tummy. Dave doubled over in uncontrolled laughter. The audience started laughing too. Matt did it again even harder. This time Dave sank to his knees and rolled on to his back. Matt leant down and went in for the kill, tickling Dave until he could take it no more.
‘Stop!’ cried Dave, his eyes streaming and his body convulsing in spasms of laughter.
After a few more tickles, Matt relented and watched as Dave crawled off the stage on all fours and back to his seat. Then Matt picked up the microphone, looked at the audience for as long as he dared, then raised the microphone to his lips.
‘See, Dave? I can make you laugh!’
The audience gave a huge roar, the biggest laugh of the night, followed by a round of applause. Matt remembered the old adage ‘If it’s going badly get off. If it’s going well get off!’ He knew he wouldn’t be able to top that.
‘I’m Matt Millz – that’s all from me. Goodnight!’ he said returning the mic to the stand. He then walked head down through the crowd, past the bar and towards the exit.
*
The first person he came upon was Bobby.
‘I don’t know how you managed that, son,’ said Bobby handing him a pint of diet Coke. Matt took a couple of long deep slugs of the drink and looked at Bobby.
‘You knew didn’t you?’ said Matt, anger bubbling up.
‘What’s that?’ said Bobby, shifting uneasily.
‘You knew I was going to have a bad gig! That look you gave me in the car when I told you I was relying on my tried-and-tested stuff! You knew I was going to tank!’
Bobby looked at his feet and took a deep breath, then fixed Matt squarely in the eye.
‘You can’t do old gear, son,’ he said shaking his head dolefully. ‘Sorry, mate. You can maybe get away with one or two but it’s not like a singer, where the audience want to hear the golden oldies over and over again. A joke has to be a surprise doesn’t it? We both know that. Maybe when you’ve been around for a while you might develop what you might call “classic routines” – like Monty Python and their parrot sketch – but those are few and far between, and you certainly can’t get away with it when you’ve only got a few gigs under your belt.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘How could I? What would you have done? It’s not like you had a whole other set you could have turned to. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. It’s another one of the golden rules of comedy – turnover. We all have to generate new stuff, and that’s the hard bit. The other thing you were up against back there was expectation …’
‘Expectation?’ said Matt.
‘Yes. You see when you first went on stage at the Apollo for the talent thingy, no one expected you to be funny. You looked like a clueless kid – no offence …’
‘None taken!’ said Matt, a little put out.
‘So when you were funny that was a surprise. The audience in the theatre and at home felt they were discovering something new together. They were excited – there’s nothing as exciting as seeing something new is there?’
‘I s’pose not, no …’ said Matt.
‘The surprise added to their enjoyment.’
‘And now?’
‘Ah well, now they remember that feeling and they’re expecting it as soon as you walk on. Oh, they’ll give you a couple of minutes for free …’
‘For free …?’
‘You know – you probably noticed that they sat up and were smiling, they wanted to laugh. But if you don’t give them what they want after those first few minutes – well, you saw it. If you don’t live up to their expectation they’re disappointed – or worse, angry.’
‘Wow, this is a weird way to earn a living,’ said Matt shaking his head. ‘Just when you think you’ve got the hang of it …’
‘It’s the weirdest job of all and believe me, you never get the hang of it,’ said Bobby. ‘It’s the best job in the world one day and the worst the next – and you know what? It never changes! One minute you’re a nobody and you can’t get a gig, the next you’re a surprise and everyone wants you, and then you’re a has-been like me and you can’t get a gig again … Ha ha! I’ve been doing it for over fifty years and it still surprises me.’
‘Yeah but when it works …’ said Matt wistfully.
‘Ah, when it works it’s fabulous! You feel like a god! Like you could do anything – which is why we keep coming back for more! When it doesn’t work you feel like a complete failure! The trick is to treat the two feelings the same. Ride ’em. Look on it as a game and whatever you do don’t forget to enjoy it – good or bad. If you can keep your sense of fun you’re half way there!’
‘Sorry if I spoiled your show, mate.’ It was Dave the heckler.
‘That’s OK Dave,’ said Matt, shaking him by the hand. ‘I made a couple of big mistakes …’
‘Yeah, but I shoulda kept me gob shut. Debbie was egging me on …’
‘No hard feelings,’ said Matt.
Dave waved his iPhone. ‘Any chance of a selfie?’
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ said Bobby.
‘No probs,’ said Matt and smiled as Dave put his arm round him and leant in for a photo.
‘Cheers, Matt. And better luck next time!’
‘How you feeling?’ said Kitty, joining them tentatively with a concerned look on her face.
‘Not great, but I learnt a lesson.’
‘We both did,’ said Kitty.
‘Where’s Alex?’ said Matt.
‘Oh, she had to get back – her dad came t
o pick her up. I think she could be really good. She’s got the technical skill – she just needs that killer instinct,’ said Kitty.
‘What, like me?’ laughed Matt, draining his pint and sucking the last few drops of Coke off the ice cubes.
‘How’d it go? Knock ’em dead as usual?’ It was Ian who’d come to give them both a lift home.
‘Bit of a sore point,’ said Matt.
*
‘I’ll email you the recording and see you in the DMC at first break,’ said Kitty as Ian pulled up outside her house to drop her off.
‘Hmm, I’m not sure that’s a show I want to hear,’ said Matt.
‘File it under experience,’ said Kitty getting out of the car and starting to walk to her front gate.
‘Oh, one more thing …’ said Matt, winding down the window and calling after her.
Kitty Hope looked round expectantly.
‘Yes?’
‘Could I have Alex’s number?’
‘Alex’s …? What for?’
‘Um … I thought maybe I could help her hone her routine …’ said Matt.
‘Never heard it called that before,’ chipped in Ian from the front seat with a grin.
Kitty produced her phone and scrolled through her list of contacts, then hesitated.
‘I tell you what. I’ll give her your number. How about that?’ she said, tucking the phone back into her pocket.
‘Um, fine,’ said Matt. ‘Yeah, fine! See you tomorrow!’
As the car wound its way through the streets of Staplefirst, Matt felt dejected. It was like he’d thrown away all the good work and publicity he’d managed to get from The T Factor audition. As they approached the house he glanced out of the window and spotted a figure in an anorak kicking a tin can down the road. It was Gary, the bloke that had been hanging out at the end of his path for the last three weeks.
‘Er, Ian?’ said Matt. ‘You can let me out here if you like. I just want to have a word with Gary.’ The car pulled up and Matt got out.
‘Hi, Gary,’ he said slapping him on the back and greeting him like an old friend.
‘Huh?’ grunted Gary, pulling his hoody to one side and looking at Matt. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
