Scunthorpe Plowright Theatre Tues March 15th

A moment, before we discuss today’s show, to run through the events of our day off here yesterday, The people at the Plowright are a fine group of human beings, and Glyn the tech manager had arranged to let us park up the bus, connect to shore power and use their facilities yesterday too, so we were all clean and sparkly and ready to “ do “ sunny Scunny. Somewhere along the way, however, the wires must have got crossed, and so the proposed tour of the museum, library, art gallery and ironworks never materialised. Instead, I saw Nick, Rodders, Tomps and Junior heading off to town at about 11.00am “ to get some breakfast “. I didn’t see them again until much, much later that night, by which time Tomps the master cider – drinker had worked his evil influence on the others, found a Wetherspoons, and a reasonably – sized orchard had been consumed in the name of “ sampling the various brands “. By the time we hook up with them in a posh Indian restaurant that night they’re all as sampled as newts, and Nick in particular is having trouble with speaking English, staying awake and remembering his own name. In fact, he sleeps through pretty much the entire meal, to the great amusement of all his fellow Booties, and I’m left wondering what sort of mess he’s going to be in tomorrow morning…….As it transpires, quite a bad one. His eyes are like two cigarette burns in a nun’s bum and he looks like one of the president’s faces carved into Mount Rushmore….in other words, rocky. Tomps, being a dyed in the wool rugger bugger, is used to taking on board copious amounts of alcohol and then being fairly untouched the next day , and both Junior and Rodders baled out early enough to be relatively unscathed this morning, but Nick is a bit out of practise, and he’s paying the price today. To be fair to him, he still gets the work done…only he does it in total silence, lying down , and with an icepack strapped to his head. I must say that these days I just can’t drink anymore, especially if I’m working, and as I see Nick struggle through the ninth circle of Hell I thank my lucky stars that this is so ! Everything else about today goes well, though….this is a great theatre with plenty of wing space and nice easy access, though it has to be said the dressing rooms are, shall we say, a little tired, in the same way that Gadaffi is a little mental, but they’ll do for us….we’re not proud ! There’s one thing about the Plowright that’s really good, though, and that is that it has a low roof, which traps the audience noise and kind of filters it back onto the stage, so that when they clap or sing along they sound like a football crowd, and this helps create a brilliant atmosphere. There are lots of people here from last time, but there are enough laughs on the jokes and links we’ve used before to let us know that there are plenty of newcomers too, and that’s definitely what we’re after. When the band play on these smaller stages they are very, very powerful, and tonight is a perfect example. There are also lots of little things that have helped tweak the show to make it slicker and better this time around. For example, although Rodders has brought fewer moving lights this time he’s using them in a really effective way, and he also knows the show so well now that he’s picking up all the links and solos with his “specials”. The moving images Tomps does are great and I now know by heart where all the slides need to be fired in. Arthur’s got the sound just so, the lights are bang on, and then there’s the band…….it really is a pretty awesome package, to borrow a word which our colonial cousins across the Atlantic are prone to overusing. Tonight, resistance is futile, and the audience are in the band’s pockets within about three numbers. It all means that they can relax a bit, and at that point all bets really ARE off….there aren’t many bands that could live with the guys on this kind of form. It’s a cracking night all round, and when you see this kind of thing happening and a virtually full house going totally banzai, the whole thing comes together and makes perfect sense.. After the show the band meet and greet, and there are loads of well-wishers wanting to tell them what a fantastic night they’ve had. Happily Nick no longer looks like an extra from Dawn of The Dead, and with the mighty assistance of Matt, the house crew’s human forklift, we’re out and away in no time. I’m actually heading home tonight for some reason which I can’t quite remember, and just at the point where I’m falling asleep at 3.00am I see that the road I need to use to get back is closed. Arse ! The other lads are riding on Radlett in the Tourbus Of Doom, and it’s a couple of gigs on home territory now, so we’ll see if we can’t bring some of that Scunny spirit with us. Although don’t mention spirit ( or any other type of alcohol ) to Nick ever again….