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Jeremy Hardy
Sep. 26th, 2004 10:40 pmJeremy Hardy was fab. The first half was a little shaky at times, but after the interval it was just hilarious. And we got to clap at Mark Thatcher’s arrest, which is always pleasant. I always have the thing where I love shows, but immediately afterwards I cannot remember a thing about them, other than that I had a good time.
It was at the Lowry, which is all gleaming and new on the outside, and purple and opulent on the inside. The theatre we were in was huge, two ginormous balconies and then a huge stalls section as well. I was a bit worried at first in case there weren’t enough people to fill it and I would then have had to laugh extra loud so that he didn’t feel discouraged, but fortunately there were sufficient audience members to allow me to giggle quietly to myself which is my normal modus operandi.
He made the very good point that the world would be a better place if the BNP and all who voted for them were shot in the head, and the slightly less good point that women passed their tests first time because when they looked in the mirror to check their make-up the examiners mistook it for diligence (he got hissed at for that). He also went through private schools, Godwin’s law (although he didn’t call it that), the stupidity of Bush, getting older, liberal lefties, anarcho-syndicalism, how on earth the Tories manage to be even worse than Blunkett and GM crops.
I braved the Metrolink for the first time to get there, and it was all good, if perhaps a tad expensive for a ten minute off-peak journey. It was really quite clean, and the man who checked my ticket on the return trip (at quarter to ten on a Sunday night, perhaps a somewhat over-exuberant) was no more officious than necessary. The people on the platform gave me friendly if incorrect advice about how to get to Salford Quays, and although the stop is a walk from the theatre, the Quays are rather nice for a midnight stroll, being pleasantly devoid of loud youths, from what I can tell.
I’m staying up a little later than I wanted because our downstairs neighbours seem to be in the habit of playing one song rather loudly before they go to bed. Last night it was something classical with violins at midnight, last Sunday they had pianoy jazz at eleven, so I don’t want to fall asleep only to be jerked awake by whatever mood they’re in tonight.
It was at the Lowry, which is all gleaming and new on the outside, and purple and opulent on the inside. The theatre we were in was huge, two ginormous balconies and then a huge stalls section as well. I was a bit worried at first in case there weren’t enough people to fill it and I would then have had to laugh extra loud so that he didn’t feel discouraged, but fortunately there were sufficient audience members to allow me to giggle quietly to myself which is my normal modus operandi.
He made the very good point that the world would be a better place if the BNP and all who voted for them were shot in the head, and the slightly less good point that women passed their tests first time because when they looked in the mirror to check their make-up the examiners mistook it for diligence (he got hissed at for that). He also went through private schools, Godwin’s law (although he didn’t call it that), the stupidity of Bush, getting older, liberal lefties, anarcho-syndicalism, how on earth the Tories manage to be even worse than Blunkett and GM crops.
I braved the Metrolink for the first time to get there, and it was all good, if perhaps a tad expensive for a ten minute off-peak journey. It was really quite clean, and the man who checked my ticket on the return trip (at quarter to ten on a Sunday night, perhaps a somewhat over-exuberant) was no more officious than necessary. The people on the platform gave me friendly if incorrect advice about how to get to Salford Quays, and although the stop is a walk from the theatre, the Quays are rather nice for a midnight stroll, being pleasantly devoid of loud youths, from what I can tell.
I’m staying up a little later than I wanted because our downstairs neighbours seem to be in the habit of playing one song rather loudly before they go to bed. Last night it was something classical with violins at midnight, last Sunday they had pianoy jazz at eleven, so I don’t want to fall asleep only to be jerked awake by whatever mood they’re in tonight.
