So tonight I had the joy of opening up Comics@Work at the Armchair Theatre in Observatory, and a small table began to talk amongst themselves.
Which is fine for any Tom, Dick and Harry comedian, as it portrays a lack of enthusiasm for the comedian and the show itself on most occasion, and it is up to the performer to entertain the crowd to a point where everyone’s attention is suddenly transfixed at the silliness, the punch lines, the charisma.
But knuckleheadedness reared it’s fat, ugly, greasy sonofabitch head tonight with this table.
What began as simply each comedian getting slightly distracted by this group of fascist actor/jobless knowitalls turned into an all-out conversation throughout the entire show, with compere Christopher Steenkamp having to request their silence at the interval for the second-half, only to be met half-heatedly with a biligerent “no”, like the man himself held the crown jewels of England between his legs and his own ass was made from gold and reeked of nutmeg.
After the show, a stand-off occurred where said compere (balls to the max) confronted them once more and a shouting match occur, whereupon said Crown Jewels man gave a comment I will never forget:
“Hey, freedom of speech, k?”
As a comedian pointed out so thoughtfully tonight, they basically sat there talking about their amazing yet fruitless and wasted lives with the comedy as jazz music background. Thank you, actors, thank you so much for belittling the spoken word craft that you cannot succeed in yourselves. You’ll be seeing at least some of us in magazines touting our comedy shows and DVD’s long before you get to be extras in porn films as pot-plants.