by Harry Hill
‘Yeah! I’ve just come from a gig as a matter of fact …’ boasted Matt. ‘Yeah, just a little comedy club. Didn’t go too well, but that’s the game – win some lose some. So, you want a selfie or an autograph?’ he asked.
‘Er, no, you’re OK. I’ve gotta get home,’ said Gary.
‘Oh,’ said Matt.
‘Yeah, and to be honest I’m probably not gonna hang around your place any more coz, well, sort of done that now – if that’s OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,’ said Matt unexpectedly disappointed. ‘No problem, Gary … whatever … um … keep in touch!’
‘Yeah … well, maybe.’
Gary pulled up his hood and continued down the road with his game of tin-can football.
Matt felt a lump in his throat as he walked back to his house. It seemed that not even his number one fan was interested any more.
He didn’t get much sleep that night. The whole Frittledean gig kept replaying over and over in his head and each time he came up with another way in which he could have played it and made it work. Just as he was about to doze off, a thought entered his head that made his eyes snap open and sit up. That gig had been bad, yes, but if he hadn’t taken Kitty’s advice, it could have happened in front of millions on Stand-up at the Apollo.
16
The Bugle Calls
The next day Matt woke up with a feeling of purpose. He had just about got away with the gig the night before, but he was determined to never let himself be caught without any new material ever again.
As he approached the school gates he heard a voice from behind him.
‘Oi! Millsy! Take a look at this!’ He spun round to see a kid from the year above doing a wheelie on his BMX and clutching what looked like a rolled-up newspaper. He wheelied up to Matt and whacked him over the head with it.
‘Hey! There’s no need for that!’ shouted Matt. ‘And yeah, I have seen a wheelie before you know …’
‘Not that – this!’ said the boy and he slung the rolled-up newspaper at Matt’s feet. ‘Looks like you’re in trouble, mate!’ he said and cycled off towards the school.
Matt bent down and picked the newspaper up. He unrolled it – it was a copy of that week’s Kent Bugle (‘All the News Fit to Print About Kent!’). It had been opened on the ‘Arts and Review’ page and the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck immediately stood to attention at what he saw.
Taking up almost half the page was a grainy black and white photograph taken at the Cavendish gig the night before. It showed Dave the heckler at the microphone and Matt in the background leaning against the wall looking decidedly worried. The headline shouted ‘Matt Takes a Back Seat as Comeback Show Flops!’ Matt stopped dead in his tracks and his face turned a bright red as he read on.
MATT TAKES A BACK SEAT AS COMEBACK SHOW FLOPS!
by our Arts Critic in the second row, Gina Heggarty
Local star Matt Millz has certainly had a good few of weeks. The Staplefirst boy who wowed the judges and won the hearts of the nation on ITV’s hit T Factor talent show has had hundreds of column inches written about him. You can hardly turn the TV on without seeing the lad on some show or other talking about his experience in the big time. But now the hot air has stopped, the question is, ‘Is Matt Millz anything more than a five-minute wonder?’ Well, the answer, judging from last night’s hapless performance at the Cavendish Hotel, Frittledean, is a resounding NO. Anyone hoping to see the confident, funny, fresh-faced comic they’d seen on the telly would have been sorely disappointed.
BODY-POPPING HIGHLIGHT
The show kicked off well with Anglebrook-based body-popper and rapper Neil Trottman. His moves were tight and his lyrics were for the most part sharp, although a couple of the songs felt like works in progress. Neil’s short set was probably the highlight of the night as the evening rapidly nosedived after he left the stage.
PROMISING MIMIC
Next up was new impressionist Alex Williams who, although delivering some technically accurate voices of some of our top ladies from Adele to Theresa March, was let down by predictable and lacklustre material and rather outstayed her welcome. However she shows promise and could be a name to watch for the future.
AS SEEN AND HEARD ON TV
Which brings us to the low point of the evening – Matt Millz. The home crowd, who were all there to see the twelve-year-old wunderkind, gave him a rousing welcome which he then proceeded to throw away by churning out all the gags he’d done on his telly debut! Master Millz needs to learn that an audience doesn’t leave the comfort of their front room to watch a repeat, and the Frittledean crowd didn’t wait long to let the lame-duck comic know of their disapproval.
Pretty quickly he was heckled by audience member Dave Thompson, who hails from Cowdenhurst. Showing his inexperience, Millz then invited Mr Thompson up on stage. Unfortunately for Mr Millz, the 32-year-old mechanic proved much funnier than the headline star everyone had paid to see. It’s quite an indictment of a comedy night when the audience proves to be funnier than the comic!
So does Matt Millz have a bright future ahead of him in show business? The verdict of this critic is very much ‘Go back to school’.
Matt’s phone buzzed through a text. ‘Lame duck?’ it said with an emoji of a yellow rubber duck. Then a second text buzzed through – ‘I’m just a phone call away.’ They were both from Dickie Hart at Excalibur Management. Matt shuddered and put the phone back in his pocket.
‘I’m staring into the abyss here,’ he murmured.
‘Ouch!’ came a voice from behind him. It was Rob. He too was clutching a copy of the Kent Bugle, open at Gina Heggarty’s scathing review. In fact, looking round him, pretty much everyone seemed to be poring over a copy.
‘That’s it,’ said Matt in a daze. ‘The game’s up … it’s over!’
‘There were some positives …’ said Rob, putting his arm round Matt’s shoulder to comfort him.
‘Oh yeah? Where? “Lame duck” it says. “Not as funny as the audience” … “Low point of the evening” it says … “Like watching a repeat” …’
‘Well …’ Rob hesitated, scanning the article yet again. ‘Here, look, it says you got a rousing welcome …’
‘Huh!’ said Matt shaking his head and putting his hand through his hair in desperation. At that point his phone rang. It was Kitty.
‘Don’t read the Bugle!’ she barked down the phone.
‘Too late,’ said Matt. ‘I’m finished! It’s over!’
‘Now don’t be ridiculous! It was one bad gig and actually it doesn’t mention the fact that you managed to turn it around at the end, so you’re by no means finished! That showed real guts, Matt. Besides, I’ve read a lot of Gina Heggarty’s reviews and she’s a nasty piece of work – particularly when it comes to comedy. She’s got no sense of humour whatsoever. There’s no way she could have preferred that Dave character’s hackneyed old gags to yours. It shows a complete lack of understanding. She’s just trying to make a name for herself on the back of yours! She’s jealous. Simple as that. Critics are the lowest of the low. Take this as a lesson for the future – never read your own reviews.’
‘I don’t mind reading the good ones,’ said Matt.
‘If you believe the good ones then you have to believe the bad ones too,’ she said.
‘I suppose you’ve got a point.’
‘Forget it! Put it out of your mind! Otherwise it will eat away at you and destroy your confidence, which is one of the comic’s most powerful tools.’
‘Yeah, OK, I hear you,’ said Matt.
But he couldn’t forget it. For the rest of the day it played on his mind. All the negative phrases from the review kept exploding in his brain like tiny bombs.
In maths he’d hear a tiny voice inside him saying, ‘Lame duck!’ or ‘Go back to school’. Queuing for a sausage roll in Greggs at morning break with Rob, he was sure he heard someone behind him whisper, ‘Audience funnier than the comic!’
It was torture.<
br />
‘Bit lame,’ said Ahmed as the three boys sat on the steps outside the science block at lunch.
‘What’s that?!’ snapped Matt, spinning to face him.
‘Just sayin’ Stand-up at the Apollo last week was a bit lame,’ said Ahmed, surprised at Matt’s aggressive response to what was a fairly harmless comment.
‘I suppose you think that’s clever do you?!’ growled Matt, giving him a shove in the chest.
‘Hey! What’s up, bruv?!’ said Ahmed confused. ‘No need to get heavy. I was just sayin’ that—’
‘I know what you were saying,’ said Matt, giving Ahmed another, bigger shove that left him spreadeagled on the steps. Matt moved in and pinned him down with his left hand then raised his right hand in a fist over Ahmed’s face.
‘Take it back!’ shouted Matt, his face red, his eyes wide and wild.
‘Hey! Hang on, Matt! What are you …’ protested Rob.
‘What you talkin’ about?’ gasped Ahmed trying to wriggle free.
‘You know what I’m talking about. The review in the Bugle,’ hissed Matt. ‘Lame duck they called me!’
‘I ain’t seen no review,’ pleaded Ahmed. ‘The Bugle is not on my list of top reads!’
‘Eh?’ said Matt.
‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!’ shouted Ahmed, managing to slip free of Matt’s grip and get up on his feet.
‘What’s going on here?’ came a gruff voice from behind them. They turned to see Mr Gillingham looking very angry indeed.
‘Thank god you’re here,’ said Ahmed running to Mr Gillingham and hiding behind him.
‘Explain yourself, Matt,’ glared Mr G.
‘Er … sorry …’ said Matt, suddenly feeling extremely foolish. ‘It was a misunderstanding. I thought …’
‘He thought I was teasing him about some review in some paper but I wasn’t. I just wasn’t!’ protested Ahmed.
‘OK, Ahmed, I think you can go – after Matt’s apologised.’
‘I’m sorry, Ahmed. Really I am,’ said Matt. His anger had turned to acute, crippling embarrassment.
‘Yeah, OK, no probs, but hey, maybe you need some chill time.’
‘Yes, thank you, Ahmed, that will be all from you on the subject,’ said Mr G.
‘Just trying to help, sir,’ said Ahmed, grabbing his bag and loping off.
‘I’ll catch you later,’ said Rob following suit.
‘Take a seat, Matt,’ said Mr G indicating the step. The two of them sat down.
‘I read that review …’
‘Hmm. Then you know that I’m a lame duck.’
‘I’ve had a lot worse than that,’ said Mr G gently.
‘You, sir?’
‘Yes,’ continued Mr G. ‘I had a brief fling with show business myself, when I was a student. Me and a couple of mates wrote a little comedy review and took it up to the Edinburgh Festival …’
‘The Edinburgh Festival? I’ve heard of that …’
‘Oh, you must go. I’m sure you will – it’s brilliant. Thousands of shows every day from stand-up comics, to opera, to street theatre, to circus acts and beyond. Well, we took a show up there, and do you know what the critic of the big paper up there wrote about it?’
Matt shook his head.
‘He wrote just five words – “This show is a dud!” Ha!’ Mr Gillingham let out a laugh. ‘This show’s a dud! Imagine that. All that work … I mean don’t get me wrong, we were devastated at the time but now I look back on it and think, maybe he was right! That doesn’t excuse his bluntness, but what you have to understand is everyone has an opinion. As soon as you put your head above the parapet someone is going to take a pot shot. You’re not a lame duck, you know that much I hope, but that gig the other night wasn’t your best – you know that too – but don’t take it out on poor Ahmed.’
Matt looked at his shoes awkwardly.
‘You know what?’ said Mr G, warming to his theme. ‘We learn a lot more from our failures than we do from our successes. Ask anyone who ever achieved anything. That review did me a favour – it stopped me from writing another show. I wasn’t cut out for that life. On the other hand I love teaching, so …’
‘What about your pals who wrote the show with you?’ said Matt.
‘One went into engineering and now designs jet engines, and the other is Benedict Camber-Sprout,’ said Mr G with a rather smug smile.
‘What?!’ said Matt, sitting up straight. ‘You went to uni with Benedict Camber-Sprout?’
‘I did indeed – but keep it to yourself. Ben’s a bit shy.’
‘He’s a brilliant actor! I’ve seen all his films – Sheer Heart, The Limitation Game, Doctor Stranglehold …’
‘Hamlet?’ chipped in Mr G.
‘Not so much,’ laughed Matt.
‘Everyone who ever did anything extraordinary got criticised for it somewhere along the line, so ignore it. In fact, here’s a bit of homework for you. I want you to collect as many quotes about critics as you can and bring them to me tomorrow. OK?’
‘Yes, sir, sorry, sir, it won’t happen again,’ said Matt, cheering up a bit.
‘It had better not. Now you’d better track down Ahmed and patch it up with him properly.’
‘Yes, sir, on my way.’
*
That night when he got home Matt went straight to his laptop and started searching for quotes about critics and was stunned at just how many of them he found in a couple of clicks. He wrote them down on a large piece of poster-sized paper and stuck it on his bedroom wall above his bed, and when he’d done that he felt a lot better.
17
Return to Sossinghurst
The car heater was turned up to max as Ian drove Matt, Kitty, Alex and Bobby down the same country lane that they’d got stuck in just a few weeks earlier.
‘Remember the purpose of tonight is for you to try out some new stuff,’ said Kitty giving an encouraging nod.
‘Understood,’ said Matt, running through his list of new stuff. He was still worried.
That morning he’d gone through his old stuff and filleted out any gags that he’d tried before but which had worked and hadn’t been used in his T Factor set. There were more than he’d expected in fact. Plus he had some other stuff that he’d been working on, and some new stuff he hadn’t but would try out if the gig was going well. He’d even brought along the old Harry Styles doll just in case he was forced to resurrect his ‘How to cook your sister’s Harry Styles doll’ routine that had gone so well at ‘Anglebrook’s Got Talent’.
‘Not like last time is it, Matt?’ said Ian as they wound their way up towards Sossinghurst. ‘Thank god. I’m still haggling with the other bloke’s insurance over the dent in my rear bumper. What they don’t understand is it’s a whole unit. It’s made of fibreglass, designed to crush on impact so you can’t just knock out a dent …’
As Ian droned on about the pros and cons of the design of the new Astra bumper over the old one, Matt suddenly started to worry. Ian was right, last time they’d made this trip the road had been completely blocked with cars. They hadn’t passed a single car for ages.
‘I know we’re trying to keep a low profile,’ said Matt, ‘but this is weird isn’t it? It’s like a ghost town!’
‘It’ll be fine!’ said Kitty. ‘Besides, we only need a few people to make it worthwhile.’
‘I guess …’ said Matt looking over his shoulder at Alex who smiled thinly and shrugged her shoulders.
‘This is my big comeback too you know, Kit!’ said Bobby. ‘Still, it’s a nice evening for a trip into the country. I wish I’d brought my book of British birds – I could have had a great time!’
‘It will be fine … don’t worry, Matt,’ said Kitty, ignoring Bobby.
But as they pulled into the car park of the Rose and Crown, even Kitty started to get concerned – it was empty.
‘Plenty of parking space then!’ said Ian, pulling up.
‘Hmm …’ said Kitty scrunching her face in
to a frown. ‘I’d better go on ahead and find out what’s going on.’
But before she could finish her sentence Matt was up, out of the car and striding towards the venue with a look of grim determination.
Not only were there no cars in the car park, there was no one in the pub either, and not a single poster or flier advertising the gig.
‘Where is everyone?’ said Matt. ‘The gig’s due to start in half an hour.’
‘Oh hello, Matt! You’re much smaller in real life than you were on that telly thing – you know, with that bloke and the other one!’ said Jess the ruddy-faced landlady.
‘Yeah, I know. TV makes you look bigger for some reason, but what about tonight’s gig?’ said Matt brusquely.
‘I’ve had to cancel it I’m afraid, Matt – no one’s turned up!’ said Jess, shaking her head.
‘No one?’ said Matt looking round at the empty room with a mic on a stand positioned forlornly on its own on a low stage at the far end. To Matt it just seemed to be begging him to get up there and do a set, but he knew that while you can do a gig to a few people – you can’t do it to no one at all.
‘Well, no offence, Matt, you’re not the name you once were,’ said Jess. ‘I mean that telly thing with, you know that bloke and whatnot, that was a while ago …’
‘Not the name I once was?’ Matt exclaimed. ‘It’s been one month! Four weeks ago I was being mobbed outside my house! Four weeks ago I couldn’t go out without having to sign ten autographs and posing for selfies every few yards. Four weeks!’ He was struggling to keep a lid on his frustration.
‘That’s showbiz I guess,’ shrugged the landlady.
Matt whirled round to face Kitty who was walking through the door behind him.
‘What’s going on?’ she said.
‘Gig’s cancelled, no one’s turned up!’ said Matt.
