by Ian Edwards
Amy nodded. ‘I think I’m coming down with the flu or something,’ she mumbled and slipped out of the office before he could ask her anything else.
Chapter 23.
Alan opened the door to the tiny room back stage at The Laughing Pelican. Harry Hodges and Tony Head were already inside and turned to greet the newcomer.
‘Alright?’ Alan said to the pair as he walked into the room, followed closely by Frankie.
‘As well as can be expected,’ Tony Head replied, staring at his hands. Slightly overweight and beginning to lose his hair even though still in his twenties, Tony Head was as morose off stage as he was on it. His dour and depressive personality saw him nicknamed “Beachy” by several other comedians. It was a name he quickly embraced and began to use on stage.
Alan found Beachy Head’s routines quite sophisticated, almost lyrical, but struggled to find common ground off stage. Instead he turned to Harry. ‘You alright there, mate?’
‘Not really, no,’ Harry replied as he shook his right hand.
‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve been working on the disappearing ping pong ball gag. Trouble is, I can’t get the bloody thing off my finger,’ Harry said, shaking his hand harder.
Frankie laughed. ‘This guy is gold. He doesn’t even have to try to be funny.’
Alan had to agree. The more he got to know Harry, the more he realised Harry was a disaster waiting to happen. Luckily for them both, Harry’s unfortunate accidents were enhancing his reputation as one to watch on the comedy circuit.
‘No Old Man Ernie tonight?’ Alan asked.
‘No,’ Harry replied, still shaking his hand. ‘I put him in his box last night, but the lock broke and I can’t get him out.’
Alan and Frankie laughed.
‘Sounds familiar,’ Alan said, remembering having to rescue Harry from his own box not too long ago.
‘If I can’t sort myself out, I won’t be able to go on stage,’ Harry said. He had given up trying to shake off the ping pong ball and was now furiously tugging at his finger.
‘Don’t worry mate, I’ll swap places if you like. It’ll give you a little more time,’ Alan said.
‘You could do my set as well if you want,’ Beachy Head added. ‘It’ll probably be funnier.’
Alan was prevented from replying by Rosie, Jayne and James entering the tiny room.
‘Alright?’ Alan said to the newcomers.
Rosie gave Alan a kiss and a hug before turning her attention to Harry. ‘Hi Harry,’ she said. ‘What are you doing?’ she added, nodding to Harry’s hands.
‘I’ve got my ping pong ball stuck on my finger,’ he replied.
‘Here, let me help you,’ Rosie said, taking hold of Harry’s hand and sliding the ring holding the ping pong ball gently off his finger.
‘Thank you Rosie, I’ve been trying to get that off for ages,’ Harry said as Rosie gave him the ping pong ball and a hug.
‘I bet Alan didn’t bother to help,’ she replied, glaring at her boyfriend.
‘I helped by keeping out of the way,’ Alan replied.
‘Is that hedge trimmer bloke playing tonight?’ James asked his friend.
‘Ned? No, Sarah told me he’s not well.’
‘Drop a chainsaw did he?’ James asked.
‘No, he fell off a ladder and broke his legs.’
James and Alan laughed.
‘Alan!’ Rosie admonished, ‘That’s not funny at all.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s not funny. Giles Monroe is taking his place.’
The comedians groaned as one.
‘What’s wrong with Giles Monroe?’ Rosie asked. ‘I like him. He’s very polished.’
‘He should be polished off,’ Beachy replied.
‘Rosie, have you met Beachy, sorry, Tony Head?’
Rosie gave the slightly rotund man a little wave. ‘Hi,’ she said. Beachy nodded in response.
‘Nice to see you, Jayne,’ Alan said, stepping in for a hug of his own. ‘Night off?’
‘Yeah. I’m really looking forward to a laugh tonight,’ she replied.
‘You’re in the wrong place for that,’ Beachy said, more to himself than the rest of the group.
Harry placed the ping pong ball ring back on his finger, and tried taking it off again. Once again, it had stuck. He began shaking his hand again.
‘What’s he doing?’ James asked Alan.
‘Working on his act. He’s supposed to make the ball magically disappear, though it’s supposed to go wrong so the audience can see it’s on a ring on his finger.’
‘It looks like it’s working,’ James replied. ‘It looks bad.’
‘It helps if you’re bad to begin with,’ Beachy Head said, making everyone but Rosie laugh. Beachy scowled in response.
‘No Ned means we can leave early,’ Alan told the group. ‘We don’t need to hang around for Giles’ routine.’
‘I’d like to see it,’ Rosie said.
‘You’re probably the only one,’ Beachy replied. ‘The man is a complete tosser.’
‘That’s not very nice,’ Rosie glared at him.
‘Neither is he,’ Beachy said. ‘Give it time, you’ll soon change your opinion. You just don’t know him like we do.’
‘I don’t think that’s very fair…’ Rosie said as the door opened and Giles walked in with Sarah in tow.
‘What’s not very fair?’ Giles asked.
‘Nothing,’ Alan replied. ‘Evening Sarah,’ he added, noticing the glare Rosie appeared to give her.
‘Hi Alan. We’ve been talking about Giles’s career path. It’s very exciting. Watch this space,’ she grinned.
‘I’d rather watch empty space than him,’ Beachy nodded to Giles.
‘Ever the optimist, Tony,’ Giles grinned back.
‘Fuck off.’
‘Erudite as ever,’ Giles replied.
‘I’d rather be erudite than a troglodyte,’ Beachy sneered in response.
‘Now, now,’ Alan interrupted. ‘This room’s too small for arguments. Can’t we all just get along?’
‘Quite right, Alan,’ Giles said. ‘I’d forgotten just how small the rooms in these lesser venues are.’
‘Especially with your ego,’ Beachy began again.
‘Don’t worry, this is just part of Beachy’s act,’ Sarah said, trying to placate him.
‘No it’s not,’ Beachy replied angrily.
‘I think we’d better leave, give you some time to prepare, come on guys,’ Rosie said to James and Jayne as she made her way to the door, glaring at Sarah as she passed.
‘I think someone isn’t happy Sarah and Giles are an item,’ Frankie whispered in Alan’s ear.
Alan ignored the comment and went over to help Harry once again remove the ping pong ball from his finger.
*
‘So I said to her, musicals, my dear, are merely an arbitrary selection of words randomly shoe horned into largely unrhythmic forms of music. She wasn’t impressed. But then, I was robbing her at the time…’
Alan and Frankie stood at the edge of the stage while Beachy Head set about his routine, shambling around the small stage as if completely unaware that anyone was watching him.
‘This is a bit intellectual for me,’ Frankie said.
‘He’s very talented. He’s more like a storyteller than a comedian.’
‘But I thought the purpose was to make people laugh?’
‘And they will,’ Alan replied, ‘until Giles is on stage at least.’
Frankie laughed. ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’
‘Aside from his winning personality, he’s everything that’s wrong with comedy. Bland, vanilla Saturday tea time sideways glance at current affairs bullshit. He’s going to go far.’
‘Comedy really has changed since my day,’ Frankie admitted. ‘It can be quite sterile. Comedians seem more like businessmen these days. In my day you just wanted to make people laugh. It was like a compulsion to get up on stage. You didn’t
care that you might not get paid.’
‘A compulsion?’ Alan said. ‘I like that.’
‘Of course you do, son. You feel it. You have to go on stage. It’s in your blood. And when it goes wrong, I bet you want to get straight back out there and do it all again?’
‘Pretty much, yeah,’ Alan admitted, turning back to where Beachy Head was just finishing his routine.
‘Today’s society is replete with unevolved primates flinging ideological waste at each other. I say to you all, come down from your trees and let’s make fire. Thank you and goodnight,’ Beachy said and walked off stage before the audience began to clap.
‘Well done, mate, that was excellent,’ Alan said.
‘I’m surprised you noticed, what with you talking to yourself all the time,’ Beachy replied, walking past Alan towards the back room.
‘Sorry son. My fault,’ Frankie said.
‘No worries. I should be a bit more discreet. I should go back to the room, see if Harry is ready to go on next,’ he said, turning towards where Beachy had just opened a door and looking back at him quizzically.
Alan opened the door to reveal Beachy Head slumped in a chair, whilst Harry was frantically trying to remove the ping pong ball from his finger.
‘Seriously? Again?’ Alan said.
‘Sorry Alan, you might have to go on next. I’m all over the place,’ Harry admitted, unaware of Frankie’s throaty chuckle.
‘No problem, Harry. I’m happy to go on next. I think the audience need cheering up after that,’ he nodded towards Beachy Head.
‘It’s my role in life to make you look good,’ Beachy replied. ‘But having seen you, I think I need to work harder.’
‘Always a pleasure, Tone,’ Alan grinned and prepared to be called on stage.
*
The routine was going quite well. Most of his new stuff had worked. He had only lost his place once, when Frankie wandered on stage for no apparent reason.
‘So I’m having this argument with my girlfriend,’ Alan said, deliberately not looking at Rosie in the crowd. ‘She thinks I’m putting on a bit of weight. She wants to put me on a diet and make me exercise more. But I told her, I don’t need any of that. I have the body of a twenty five year old,’ he said, massaging his relatively flat stomach. ‘It’s in the boot of my car.’
Alan was pleased to hear more laughs than groans and chanced a look at Rosie. He wasn’t sure whether she was amused or constipated. It was often difficult to judge. He carried on;
‘We’ve just come back from Euro Disney. Awful place. Filthy. I stood next to a six foot mouse in the toilet,’ he grinned at the crowd. ‘It’s alright for you lot out there groaning, I have to say this rubbish every night.’ He knew this always got the crowd on side. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to go now, but here’s a quick one for the lads. Why should all women masturbate with this hand?’ he said, raising his right arm. ‘Because it’s mine. Thanks, you’ve been great,’ he said, clapping the audience before strolling off stage, his adrenalin still pumping.
‘You’re really getting better, son,’ Frankie said.
‘Thanks. But what the bloody hell were you doing on stage?’
‘I just wanted to feel it one more time. Being in front of the crowd. You can’t beat it.
Alan knew what Frankie meant. He had never felt as good as when a routine worked. The sound of people laughing, better than any nights of passion. He wouldn’t mention that to Rosie, of course.
‘Well done Alan,’ Harry said as he entered the room. He offered his hand to shake, Alan noticed the ping pong ball was still attached to his finger.
‘Don’t worry about it, I’m just going to run with it,’ Harry said. ‘Besides, I managed to get into my box. I’m going on with Old Man Ernie,’ he said, holding out the dummy.
‘Excellent, I really want to see this,’ Frankie said.
‘Excellent, I’ll watch from the side of the stage,’ Alan said.
‘Well done Alan,’ Giles said, though he didn’t seem at all happy.
‘Alan, that was fab,’ Sarah said, giving him a hug. An action that made Giles frown even more.
‘Thanks guys,’ Alan said, removing himself from Sarah’s embrace. ‘Where’s Beachy?’ he asked.
‘He went home,’ Harry replied. ‘Said something about contemplating death by mint imperials. Strange one, that.’
‘You’re not wrong. Anyway, Harry, I think you’re up,’ he said.
‘Righty ho,’ Harry said as he picked up his suitcase and wandered out of the door, Alan trailing behind him.
They approached the stage where the compere, “Big” Willy Williams announced, ‘…and now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a real treat in store for you. Put your hands together for the one and only…Harry…Hodges…’
Harry lifted his suitcase and climbed the small steps up to the stage, shaking Willy Williams’s hand on the way through. He placed his suitcase on a small table and turned to face the crowd.
‘Hello,’ he began. ‘I’m Harry and firstly I’d like to demonstrate the famous ping pong ball trick. As you will see, this is a perfectly normal ping pong ball,’ he said, showing the now free ball to the audience. ‘Watch with amazement as the ball mysteriously…disappears…’ Harry flicked his hand and the ball was gone. A small smattering of applause greeted the trick. Harry then opened his hand to reveal the ping pong ball stuck to his finger. He theatrically tried shaking it off, to no avail. The scant applause rapidly turned into laughter.
‘Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, this works a lot better when no one’s staring at me,’ he said, trying and failing to pull the ball off his finger. After a few more shakes he gave up.
‘I can still see it,’ shouted a guy in the front row.
‘Me too,’ Harry agreed, looking down at his hand. ‘You won’t see Dynamo doing this shit. Anyway, looks like I’ll be back at the A and E later,’ he quipped.
‘Moving rapidly on,’ he said, opening his suitcase. I have a special guest. But before I get him out I’d better put this on,’ he said as he plucked a large fake moustache from his pocket and placed it above his top lip. ‘Seamless,’ he said, to a few chuckles.
‘Anyway, here he is, say hello, to Old Man Ernie,’ he said, placing his hand inside the dummy.
‘I bet I’m not the first person you’ve seen with a ping pong ball stuck up them,’ Ernie said to the same man in the front row.
At the side of the stage, Frankie and Alan laughed. ‘Seriously, son, I think this guy can go all the way. You need to stick close to him.’
‘I know. He’s a bit like Beachy Head, I’m never quite sure whether this is his normal persona on stage or whether he’s doing his act all day long.’
‘He really reminds me of the great musical hall acts. He’s got a real charm to him.’
‘It helps that he’s a bit rubbish.’
‘That’s the joke, though, isn’t it? I’d rather watch Harry than Giles any day.’
‘That’s a fair point,’ Alan agreed as they watched the rest of the show.
*
‘From Ernie and me, thank you,’ Harry said. ‘Except that bloke in the front row,’ Ernie shouted. The audience laughed, not least because Harry had let his moustache fall several moments earlier, not even pretending to disguise his awful ventriloquist act.
Willy Williams bounded on stage, ‘Give it up one more time for the fantastic Harry Hodges. Now, there’s going to be a short break before our star headline act…’
‘Brilliant Harry, I loved it,’ Alan said, shaking his hand. ‘I take it you were mucking about the whole time in the dressing room?’
Harry grinned at Alan. ‘If only that were true. Anyway, I’m going to have a quick drink at the bar. Coming?’ he asked. Alan didn’t need to be asked twice. Besides, he said he’d meet Rosie during the interval.
They made their way to the side of the room that held a small but packed bar. Giles and Sarah were already there, talking to Rosie, James and Jayne. On seeing Harry, Rosie
and Sarah all but flung themselves upon him. ‘Harry, that was brilliant,’ Sarah gushed.
‘Thanks, Sarah, can I get anyone a drink?’
‘Put your wallet away,’ James said, ‘I’ll get this one,’ and turned towards the bar.
Alan gave quick hugs to Rosie, Jayne and Sarah before joining James at the bar. ‘That went alright, I think?’ he said.
‘Yeah mate, I thought so. I miss the Fat Kid, but this is different. Sharper. Better.’
‘Thanks mate. I needed that. Sometimes I wonder whether Rosie gets it at all.’
‘I think she does. Especially now you’re earning a bit more.’
‘I suppose so.’
James paid for the drinks and the friends turned round to see Harry surrounded by a large group.
‘What’s all this about?’ Alan asked.
‘It seems as though the Hoi Polloi find your elderly friend somewhat quaint,’ Giles sneered.
‘Quaint? I thought he was brilliant,’ Sarah said.
‘Me too,’ Rosie admitted.
‘Looks like he’s getting himself a bit of a fan club. Good luck to him,’ Alan said, taking a swig of his beer.
‘Luck is most certainly what it is,’ Giles said as he flounced out of the bar.
‘Always a pleasure,’ Alan said to his back.
‘Don’t be like that, Alan,’ Sarah said. ‘You know he gets grumpy before going on stage.’
‘What’s his excuse for after, then,’ Alan replied.
Sarah smiled up at him, an action that caught Rosie’s attention. ‘Come on Alan, we’d better finish up and head off home,’ she said, frowning at Sarah.
‘I thought you wanted to see Giles’s comedy stylings,’ he replied innocently.
‘Not tonight. Maybe some other time.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, ‘I’ll just finish up and we can be on our way. It looks like the star turn has already been on anyhow,’ he said, pointing to where Harry stood grinning whilst having his picture taken with a group of young women.
Chapter 24.
Amy clambered out of the taxi and almost fell as one of her heels gave way. She steadied herself on the open door and paid the driver before carefully making her way up the garden path. Taking deep breaths she tried to let the chilly night air sober her up. The downstairs lights were on, confirming that James was home. Taking her key out of her bag, she took several more deep breaths to clear her head, turned the key in the lock and let herself in.
