To be honest, I feel a tad inconvenienced that I, Jay Cool, have been summoned to a comedy gig in Lamarsh.
Not that I’ve got anything against village folk, but as you know, I, Jay Cool, am more than a little partial to the mango cider available at my local – Sudbury’s Brewery Tap! Also, its well know that Suffolk’s country bumpkins get around, not by four-by-fours, as in other rural posh-holds, but by stilts. Stilt-walking as the only way to survive in these marshy flatlands. And, the village name Lamarsh fills me with a sense of foreboding before I even step foot outside my own front door.
Still, he who must be obeyed is this evening the sealer of my fate. PJ, I heard you. I heard you and I obeyed you. And here I am. And here you are.
Much as I am relieved to find you stilt-less, when’s this show going to start? I’m here to see the young sprite, Nigel Lovell.
Okay, so Nigel’s here too and I have to say that he does look dashing in pink. Perhaps he’s not so young, though! I mean, what young thing, what up and coming young comedian would start up his set, joking about the perils of middle age?
Still, at forty-six, he’s younger than this particular specimen of middle-age, so I’m sticking with my initial perception of him. A young sprite.
A young sprite rabbiting on excitedly about being ‘posh, pretentious and patronising’. Posh because he was ‘raised by both parents’. Get with it, Nigel! Nobody who wears a floral pink blouse and pullover is posh. And I also doubt that both your parents were present for anything other than their initial coupling!
Nigel’s next joke about his wearing a jacket from his ‘dead dad’s’ wardrobe, in this context does, however, have a ring of truth about it. According to a search on Bing, then boars are only kept for a couple of years, at which point they are turned into bacon for the crime of being too fat and heavy to mount and mate with a pig.
Anyway, whilst I’ve been honing up on my pig-farming skills, Nigel’s been impressing the punters with his expertise on the topics of Postman Pat, Doctor Who and dildoes. He really ought to be making his fortune going up against the Chaser, rather than living on the breadline telling jokes in East Anglian pubs. The Lamarsh Lion might be generous as far as venues go, but really Nigel, your last gig was in Haverhill! And its really not the thing to joke about torched cars in Haverhill. Really! How low can a comedian sink?
Still, as we say goodbye to Nigel (he’s dashing off early to rescue his car, before the angry punters still on his heels from Haverhill, catch up with it and torch it), we say hello to an offcut from one of Nigel’s props – Dodsy Dildo!
Dodsy Dildo’s next on the billing, and he’s all the way from the lost property box of Watford’s most famous comedy gig venue (the name escapes me). Nigel, why didn’t you tell us you’ve also gigged in Watford? It’s a step up from Haverhill, isn’t it? Although he’s actually a dildo, Dodsy claims to identify as a man, who models himself upon his heroes Brian Cox and Stephen Hawking. Yes, I understand that my readers might like an illustrative example here, but I really don’t think it a great idea to Google (or Bing) this one! You will just have to imagine a Brian Cox dildo lookalike, and do your best to avoid it’s very large and very white teeth (ouch!), however endearingly they might be enticing you (or themselves in) with their big cheesy smile.
Not content with being a grinning dildo, Dodsy’s relaying tales about the various types of fluff that can get trapped beneath one’s foreskin. Now I’m excited! Ever heard of the ‘Naval Fluff Collection’? Perhaps I could start up business as a middle-woman, collecting low-cost samples of fluff, from other regions, and selling them on at a profit. And, no, I won’t be personally collecting up the samples! PJ! PJ! Where are you when you’re needed? I have a new business venture for you. How do you fancy being proprietor at the new ‘Naval, Toe and Foreskin Fluff Museum’?
Fluff aside, then Dildo Dodsy’s barely finished his set, when Nigel breezes back in! Seems he’s forgotten something.
No, Nigel Lovell. No you can’t take Dodsy’s ‘Fluff Jar’ with you! Hands off! It’s mine!
But, much to my relief, Nigel’s only come back for his mobile phone. My business plan is still safe, for now. Must get that jar to the patent office ASAP!
How am I going to broach the subject with the fluff supplier? This is even more of a problem than anticipated. Dodsy’s gone! Whilst I’ve been coming up with a plan to make millionaires of all of us, he’s been booted off the stage (carpet) by none other than Trevor Bickles!
Trevor turns out to be a lad from the East End of London. (Could add a bit of regional variety to the fluff collection! No?) Our Trev is even more dodgy than Dodsy. He’s telling us all about his deals with dodgy men on dodgy corners. Claims that’s how he got his Abibas trainers, but sounds to me, judging by the way he keeps pausing to scratch himself down below, that he obtained something far more dubious than dodgy footwear. Dodgy or itchy, then Trev’s also pretty funny in a cute Biggles sort of a way. (No, Trev, you are deluded; you don’t look anything like the Milky Bar kid – not unless you scoffed all the stock!)
The dodgy is becoming increasingly dodgier. Paul Merryk’s next up!
PJ, where did you get this lot from? You been hanging around on street corners? Not only is Paul dodgier than the preceding dodgems, he’s also desperate. He’s ‘fifty-three’ years young (he claims – reckon he’s knocked a few years off!), and he’s telling all of us punters how ‘sexy’ we are. Strangely, he’s not looking in my direction. Even more strangely, his eyes are fixed upon an elderly lady with a zimmer frame. Not, that one can’t be sexy with a zimmer; in fact, they are great for a spot of pole dancing. It’s just that a minute ago, Paul was telling us about his penchant for ‘rubenesque’ ladies (you’re looking in the wrong direction, Paul), whereas this one looks like she’s toning up for the next season of Britain’s Got Talent. Still, it takes all sorts to make a couple! And the oldies are lapping it up with Paul – they love him! (And so do us middlers!)
And, talking of couples, then I’m not so happy with the partner I’ve struck up with for the evening. A pint of Coca Cola! What was PJ thinking of, booking us in for a gig in Lamarsh? Next time, PJ, book a gig within walking distance of Chilton. I’m a bit of a hermit, generally, and I’m not usually dragged out of my storage container unless I can see a pint of mango cider at the end of the rainbow.
Please PJ, please stick to The Brewery Tap!
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, February 2019
Suffolk Punch Comedy Club gigs take place on the first Wednesday of every month, starting at 8pm, at The Brewery Tap, East Street, Sudbury, Suffolk. Come and join in with the laughter! Free entry. Donations to the charity pot, in support of prostate cancer research appreciate.
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