Comedy In Store

I am on a fresh campaign in the big smoke, blitzing though a number of meetings and dinners. I have Goldenbollocks, my young Norwegian colleague with me. Needless to say, our livers are taking a battering.

We have a cancellation. No dinner meeting Thursday evening. Thank You. A night off. We need a break. We need a change of scenery. We usually hang around in my favourite Soho haunts getting pissed til the wee hours of the morning. Not tonight! We’ll do something different.

Besides, I need to get Goldenbollocks home early. We have an important meeting the next morning. I often leave him in Soho at the end of the evening, and he surfaces 10 minutes before our morning meetings usually with no or little sleep but thankfully freshly showered. I think he’s Lestat incarnate.

He’s a babe magnet. Women throw themselves at him. I have had to stop introducing him to single girls that are friends of mine and the mrs. They inevitably avail themselves of his services with a rapidity that is well, rapid.

I surf the entertainment directories: musicals, theatre, concerts, films… Unbelievable, thousands of things going on in London and I cannot find one of interest. London is dull in January. Well, to be fair, most places in the Northern Hemisphere are dull in January.

Aha, the Comedy Store. That’s the ticket. A good dose of politically incorrect verbally abusive stand up! In the queue on the way it, a little fawn standing in front of us starts talking to Goldenbollocks. Here we go. Thankfully, she is waiting for her boyfriend. I rein his leash in.

There is a four comic line-up compered by Roger Monkhouse! We are second front row and are convulsing with laughter. It is base, racial, political, violent and hilarious. Some of the best comedy surfaces through human tragedy. The multi-ethnic crowd is howling.

This is just what the doctor ordered! I love comedy. Nothing beats live standup.

It’s 2 am and we are in my Soho club with the fawn and her boyfriend. Don’t ask. Golenbollocks and I are a comedy of errors. Thank the lords we have not yet found the other set of twins.

Beaverboosh