Around
the States in Eighty Days
Being an irregular and erratic account by the
Greedy Bastard himself as he sets out to traverse America on
a comedy tour.
Day
Seven. Belleville.
Sunday
October 5th, Empire Theatre. Belleville, Ontario
You say you are playing Belleville and people look at you
strangely. Actually these small places are invaluable and
they have been hand picked by the Greedy Bastard's agent so
that we can iron the kinks out of the show before we hit the
big ones. The capacity of the Empire Theatre is only 700,
but Kitchener on Tuesday holds 1800 and the Massey Hall, on
Wednesday and Thursday in Toronto holds 2,545. Even the Saint
Denis in Montreal next Monday has over 2,000 so tonight is
our last chance to feel close to a smallish audience and experiment
a little with the running order.
Last night I took the cast and some of the scurvy crew out
to dinner. Got to feed the Greedy Bastards. And boy can they
eat. Excellent Chinese food at the Dynasty on Bloor, a favorite
of mine here in Toronto. I outlined some changes I want to
try for tonight, while they mutter darkly about not having
been paid. You'd think they'd pay me for a chance to be out
on the open road with such an agreeable and pleasant leader,
but no, here I am feeding them at expensive watering holes,
putting them in fancy hotels and they expect to be paid as
well. We were never paid in the old days. We'd be lucky to
have a bag of dry oats and a good slap about the head. Some
days we never ate for twelve weeks. Paid? We would have to
cry ourselves to sleep in the damp seedy costumes we'd stood
up in, while that John Cleese thrashed us wi' his belt. Paid?
I promise them meekly I'll see what I can do.
I have decided to make a cut in the running order. The pitfall
of comedy is going on too long and tonight I want to try and
get to the intermission quicker. I'm looking to take out about
ten minutes from Act One. The main victim is Jen and I know
these cuts are hard for her to take. I'm cutting Nigel Spasm
as well, but I can see that's not much consolation for Jennifer.
It's not her fault. The main problem is that Peter's Homeland
Security rant lifts the audience to such a high pitch that
it's hard to follow it with gentle stuff about The Rutland
Isles. So tonight I'm going to try removing that and simply
come in with the Bruces after John's Bad Beethoven. This should
help to move the show along. Act Two is fine. Largely, I think,
because it is much shorter.
The Encore Bucket has surprised us all. On Friday in Rutland
I introduced this brand new showbiz concept. No more coming
back at the end of a show for a free extra bit. Now with my
Encore Bucket the audience have the option to pay for an Encore.
In Rutland we were all surprised to find at the end that they
had actually paid! Just before the curtain Jen was supposed
to discover nothing in there, and I had written a few gags
about what she found instead, but the audience were on their
feet and making so much noise we all took our bows and left.
When I came back on after a few minutes of stamping and yelling
I ignored the audience completely and walked straight over
to the Encore Bucket. Imagine my surprise when I found it
contained several dollar notes and lots of change. Not only
that but people were still walking up and putting in bills
and they were even throwing down change from the balcony.
(Please don't do that, The One Eyed Greedy Bastard Tour is
not such a snappy title.) They were literally throwing cash
and screaming for more. One young boy came up and put a buck
in and indicated he wanted the Parrot which sits in a cage
on one of the speakers. "You can't have that " I
said "It's dead." Big laugh. They settled for the
Lumberjack Song, with Peter Crabbe in a hat as an entire troop
of Mounties. The final score for the Encore Bucket was twenty
bucks, a love note and a rubber ducky. What to do with it?
Peter Crabbe, greedy bastard, suggests it should be donated
to him as a tour bonus, but I decide we'll save it up and
donate it to a charity at the end. Talking of Peter Crabbe
and mutinous bastards, I was very sorry to see Roy of Siegfried
and Roy was savaged by one of his performers. At least I don't
risk getting bitten on the neck and dragged off stage, though
I'll have to watch it by the look in Jennifer's eyes.
We leave our hotel by camel at dawn in a swarm of flies after
beating off some local beggars with a brolly… [Stop
that. This is not Michael Palin's diary. Ed.] Sorry. We
climb into our luxury coach for the short journey to tonight's
gig. As if perfectly timed Chelsea v Middlesborough kicks
off on Fox Sports World. Thank you thank you Soccer God. The
satellite works! It will not be a football free three months.
Sex I can do without (yeah right) but to do without soccer
is asking too much. Reminds me of the old English gag "Football's
better than sex. Where else can you get forty five minutes
each way with a brass band in the middle?"
Talking of sex, which I do too much of in the show, who are
these kind ladies who leave their phone numbers in the Encore
Bucket for an ancient British comedian? I mean it impresses
the crew, and it's very flattering to the ego and I don't
wish to seem rude sweeties, but I am now over thirty. [Double
thirty you lying bastard. Ed.] My wife has always said
I can sleep with as many women as I want. But if I do she'll
kill me. So I choose life. Also she is a cutie. And I do miss
her. And so would you if you'd spent twenty seven years with
her.
Belleville is a rather quaint little place on a picturesque
river with several beautiful churches and an interesting bridge
about 95 miles North East of Toronto. As we drive in to town
on a Sunday afternoon there is no one to be seen. All the
shops are shut and the streets deserted. It looks like a ghost
town where all the people have been carried away by illegal
aliens. Incidentally I am a Resident Alien (yes that's what
they call me. I feel I should be wearing antennae) and I think
California's problems would be solved if they issued Illegal
Alien Cards. I have a Green Card because I am registered.
but there are millions of people living in California who
do most of the work who are unregistered, whose kids go to
school and who can't get car insurance. That doesn't mean
they don't drive. It just means that if they ram into you,
you have no claim. So I suggest a Red Card, the Illegal Alien
Card. At least you'd know who they were and you could tax
them. I am a Brit and contribute taxation, though of course
I don't get representation [Historical Irony detector just
went off. Ed.] What was that slogan? No taxation without
representation? Ah yes but that only applied against the Brits.
[Enough irony. Ed.]
Anyway back to Belleville and the Empire Theater which is
a new brand new venture. They have barely been open two weeks.
It's comfortable with plush seats and very pleasant modern
backstage facilities, and the Manager and his staff are ultra
friendly. It doubles as a movie theater part of the week.
This week Le Divorce. By Merchant Irony. [That's Ivory,
and I've warned you. Ed.]
They're a much quieter audience in Belleville. We have to
work harder to win them. But we do. I am very proud of my
cast and crew. Where do I begin? Obviously with me. I am the
Greedy Bastard after all. As you know most people in showbiz
are out there performing purely from the goodness of their
hearts just for the benefit of their audiences. [Irony
detector just went off again. Now stop it. Ed.] But oh
no, not me. I am there for the encore bucket, and tonight
they are out of their seats dropping in Canadian dollars (called
Loonies appropriately) and even vouchers from a hardware chain
(Tire dollars). This is very nice of them, as we can see the
town has obviously been hit hard economically with several
shut down shops and businesses and we are given dinner in
a very nice little restaurant which has a notice up that it
is closing this week. So it is very impressive that at the
end of the show the audience line up in the foyer for me to
sign tons of merchandise.
I realized quite early on that they were more of a listening
audience. They weren't whooping and yelling. In fact they
were an older crowd and very polite and the first act passed
swiftly at fifty minutes. The cuts worked and Jen was great
and Peter was great and John was brimming with confidence
and picked up many extra laughs in Yorkshiremen, so that even
when Peter had a brain fart and didn't show up for Nudge Nudge
it didn't bother me one bit. In fact several of the people
said they liked the mistakes! Maybe we should keep them in.
This was a comfortable Sunday night crowd who were having
a good time. Act Two is much more reflective, and far less
filthy, and I talk about myself more and I felt very relaxed
and easy with them plus we really made them laugh and won
them over so that by the end they were as noisy as Rutland.
Incredibly Act Two stretched ten minutes to fifty five minutes,
so thank you Belleville.
We are all pretty quiet and tired in the coach after the show
watching Memento. It seems somehow appropriate for the journey
back…
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