Wednesday, 23 January 2013

Comedy tonight at the Brighton Komedia

Brighton has a lot of places you can go to to be entertained, and this is one. I'm off there tonight to have my funny bone tickled by no less than ten comedians in the space of three hours or so. There is an interval so that composure can be regained, should one end up rolling between the tables in uncontrollable mirth, breathless, red-faced and begging for mercy.

Not of course that I am likely to be one of the people who get into such a state. Not me!

Despite my merry demeanour, twinkling eyes and propensity to giggle, I always make out that I have absolutely no sense of humour. What I mean is that it takes the silly and childish and daft to make me laugh. And all that sophisticated stuff you see nowadays, with its social, sexual and counter-cultural allusion, is way over my head and hardly registers. If I understand it at all. After all, I've led such a sheltered life!

All my Brighton friends have knowing winks and streetwise cool. Their speech is peppered with oblique references to the latest whisper, the Word that only Townies get to hear. I'm very much the Person From The Snowy Wastes, the Land Beyond Where Dragons Be. Where oppressed serfs contend with sorcerors and the uncaring gentry of the land; and have never learned to laugh, because there is nothing to laugh at!

So really I'm fitted only for the rustic delights of simple country folk. Jokes about turnips and potatoes. And if a feisty lady with attitude bounces on stage to speak drolly of period pains, cucumbers and men's underpants, I'm befuddled and bemused. 'Baint she goin ter tell a joke about taturs?' I say to myself, amid all the cheers and whistles.

They are really all very kind to me. They seem to understand my simple heart, my innocence. So I'll stable the mare with confidence, and, suitably dressed in my best bodice - the one with squirrels mating on it - I'll present my £5 ticket and then try to follow all that happens. I just hope I don't do the wrong thing, especially if Squire and Parson be there as well. Heavens, that would be my standing in the village ruined at once! And once a girl is ruined, she do stay ruined.

1 comment:

  1. Once a country yokel or is it bumpkin, always one eh Lucy?
    We have a clown week here in Southport during the summer but they are out in the streets tickling your fancy. I avoid such frivolity myself.

    Shirley Anne x


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