Present laughter!

I have let drop recently the fact that I am a regular subscriber to The Spectator in the hope that readers will gain (the entirely spurious) impression that I am something a Westminster sophisticate.  Alas, the fact is that I buy it mainly for the laughs.  Here are two examples from this week's edition.

The first by this week's diarist, Barry Humphries.  He relates the story of a recent visit to Darwin in the Northern Territories of Australia.  Arriving late he attempted to order from 'room service' receiving this reply:

"There's only soup and sandwiches".

"What kind of soup?"

There was a loud sigh on the other end of the line and the clatter of a telephone impatiently dropped on to the reception desk.  I heard the sound of retreating footsteps.  He was away for a very long time while I listened to a phone ringing plaintively in the distance: no doubt an importunate guest. But I was hungry so I hung for what seemed like 15 minutes.  Finally I heard the shuffle of approaching footsteps, and the concierge at last came back on the line:

"It's soup of the day!"

The other one comes from 'Taki' and concerns the Clintons when they were younger.

"Apparently Bill was driving a white pick-up, and on a muddy path late at night ran over a skunk family trying to cross the road.  Hillary screamed at him to stop, which he did.  When she went back she found papa skunk and mama skunk very much dead but baby skunk still alive but barely so.  She picked it up and got inside the car.  Bill faked compassion but even he came around when the baby skunk began to shiver with shock and cold. 'Keep it warm,' he told Hilary.  So she put it gently in her lap and tried to keep it warm between her legs. 'But what about the smell?' she asked Bubba. 'Oh, just put your handkerchief over its nose,' answered the future 42nd President of the United States."

All quite disgraceful, of course, but I still haven't stopped laughing.  Talking of which, my title for this post, of course, comes from Twelfth Night and was used by 'darling Noel' as the title to one of his most successful plays, currently revived in the West End. It reminds me to tell you, especially any of you within spitting distance of Twickenham, that our Christmas show this year is a medley of 'Coarse Acting' plays.  The "onlie begetter" of Coarse Acting was, and happily still is, Michael Green, now in his 80th year and a member of the Richmond Shakespeare Society. The only way to describe a 'Coarse Acting' play is that it contains within it everything that can possibly go wrong in an amateur production - and then some you would never have thought of!  The titles of the four playlets concerned give, I think, the flavour of the enterprise which has been titled: COARSE ACTING - THE REVENGE!

Present Slaughter; The Cherry Sisters; Henry the Tenth (Part Seven) and A Fish in her Kettle.

Not to be missed between Dec 6th to the 16th if you want to start the turgid, festive season in the right hysterical mode!

Comments

[dearieme]

Don't collide with the scenery, drop the props, forget your lines or wave to your friends in the audience.

[David Duff]

One that that has stuck in my mind since I read it in his book "Coarse Acting" was the fate of the young ASM standing behind the scenery flats whilst a vigorous sword-fight was taking place on stage. One of the protagonists lunged with too much enthusiasm with the result that his rapier went through the canvas flat and pinned the arm of the ASM to a wooden post. Unable to get the sword back he had to leave it and mime the rest of the fight. Behind the scenes the ASM pluckily bit his lip until the scene ended and in the black-out a howl of anguish arose!