Lily and I decided a good way to make the Comedy Central Live experience just that little bit more of an experience would be to sit on the front row. I've also sort of been thinking about trying my hand at writing some stand up stuff so I thought what better way to learn to deal with f'row audience participation than if I am a partaker in the.. erm.. "bantz"? This was all well and good, I was feeling brave, up until the dreaded words "And there's been a change to the line up today so please welcome to the stage Matt Richardson!" came out of a wig-wearing John Kearns.
This would not be a problem if I hadn't gone to see Matt Richardson live a few weeks ago in Maidenhead and if I didn't regularly send him abuse on Twitter. I met him after his gig in Maidenhead and he recognised me as his "troll" but reassured me that my tweets were refreshing after multiple "ooo00OOomgGgggGggGGG follow me back plzzzzz!!!111xxxxxxxxx" tweets from the gaggle of 12 year old Directioner-reject fans who continue to send me hate whenever I send anything vaguely insulting to him.
So there we have the background of where the terror stemmed from when it was announced he was performing on a stage hardly a metre away from me. Naturally I turned to my friend Lily with my hands covering my face and continually repeated a phrase similar to that of "Holy mother fucking shitballs fucking wanking cock and ball shitting fuck" under my breath whilst she laughed at my misfortune like all good friends should.
Thankfully, THANKFULLY, rather than see me as a prime target for front row bullying, eye contact was avoided for the majority of the gig but I was well aware that I'd been clocked. I was ready for the shit to be ripped out of me as pay back for what I find to be hilarious abuse on Twitter but either he actually thought I'd be as witty(? .. or just abusive) in real life or he was too scared that I was some form of stalker who would lap up any attention I was given. Either way, I'm glad I avoided that.
My favourite part of his set was the end. Because I was terrified. Lolz. Next was a really young comedian called Elliott who was pretty good but I was there for Joe Lycett who we were told by John Kearns would be on after a ten minute break. So nerve-come-down wees were had and then Lily and I were back in our seats ready for Joe Lycett. First we had a bit more of John Kearns though, and thinking I'd got away with no Matt Richardson prosecution I had relaxed a bit now. ERROR.
"Has one of you two here seen Matt before?" Fuck. It begins. I was not drunk enough for this. As in stone cold fucking sober with only a packet of gingernut biscuits as confidence fuel. Rather than confidence they just provided me with stomach discomfort helped along by the tension from sitting through Matt Richardson's set with held breath. I admitted to having been at a previous gig. So my only front row participation was as follows:
"Yeah he said he recognised you, did you sit at the front before?"
"No."
"How does he recognise you then?"
"I met him afterwards."
"Did you get a picture with him?"
"No."
"Do you want a picture with him?"
"No."
"That would be a bit awkward to be fair, do you want to meet him now?"
"No, I've already met him"
"HA AWKWARD MATT."
"Soz."
SO MUCH FOR GETTING FUCKING INSPIRATION AND WHATNOT. WORST NIGHT EVER. But also really good too. Just not with Matt Richardson ruining my life with his fucking existence. Joe Lycett was brilliant as I expected hoped and knew. I was in the audience at Sweat The Small Stuff a few weeks ago when he was on and he is fast becoming one of my faves. Delightfully camp charming and creepy all in one; perfect.
I need to go and massage my destroyed thighs after their horrific equestrian experience last night now and to continue trying to clean myself of the shame that Matt Richardson probs thinks I'm stalking him. Aca-awkward. Until next time, fuckers.
.x
No comments:
Post a Comment