Stockport Plaza Tues 1st March

Ah, the unrelenting glamour of life on the road……We wake up this morning in a sort of lay-by outside the theatre in the middle of Stockport, parked on either side of a rubbish – filled skip ( which also seemed to be home to a family of Albanians ) and as we emerge blinking into the weak sunlight, hair awry and all smelling faintly of eau de bloke, some locals stare at us as though we’d arrived from another planet…..which in a sense we have, as OUR planet isn’t largely populated by shellsuited, soap-dodging benefit scroungers whose idea of a day out is a family trip to Poundland. Once again we look up at the massive illuminated art deco frontage of the Plaza, and once again we ask “ What in the name of Basil Brush’s underpants are we doing here ? “ The external grandeur of the theatre, we recall grimly, doesn’t extend to the dressing rooms or backstage facilities, and , of course, there’s the little matter of a 1 in 6 slope carpeted by lush, flight-case knackering shag pile waiting to swamp our gear, at the end of which there’s a hoik up on to the stage which is so high Sir Edmund Hilary once came here and planted a bloody flag on it. To be fair, there are two improvements from last time. One is that they’ve actually supplied a couple of crew to help us load in, and the other is that they’ve now got a goods lift which makes the ascent of Everest to the stage a little easier. In fact, it all comes in and goes together easier than we’d expected, but it’s still a grind. To add insult to injury we know this one’s not sold well ( this sentence was brought to you by Great Understatements of Our Time, number five in a series ), so everyone’s a bit fratchy. No blood is shed, fortunately, and we make it through to soundcheck in one piece. We’re trying a new bit of theatrical jiggery-pokery tonight which involves dropping a piece of scenery in and out, so we test it out at soundcheck. The band impress us by working around this potentially dangerous object without loss of limb or sight, so we decide to keep it in. If it does end up braining one of them we could just work it into the show and call it suffering for our art….And so to showtime, and the depressing sight the audience scattered throughout this huge place. At least the management haven’t tried to sell the balcony, which is so far away they speak a different language there, and within a couple of songs we’re reminded that although this place wasn’t heaving last time either, this tends to be a noisy and enthusiastic crowd. They’re really good natured too, and Den gets some banter going with them. There’s one woman in particular who may possible be a little over – refreshed as she feels it necessary to bawl out to the stage after every other song. This in itself isn’t too much of a problem, but she combines the volume of a jumbo jet with the raucousness of Barbara Windsor, and I’m here to tell you folks, it’s not a winner. Den handles it with aplomb, however, and luckily it doesn’t seem to affect anyone else’s enjoyment of the show, especially after we have her forcibly removed and shot. The set rattles along beautifully, and the new trick in the acoustic section works a treat, so we’ll be using that wherever we can. Jamie’s definitely getting better; “ Whiter Shade” is almost at full power, though we’re still being prudent and keeping “ Go Now “ and “Itchycoo Park” out of the set for another day or two. It’s in the bag by the time they get to the new “ Sixties dance party “ section, and there’s some proper community singing on “ You’ll Never Walk Alone “. As with last time we’ve won this crowd over and they’re full of praise, but once again we’ve played to a small crowd and you have to start looking at the venue itself to see if everything is being done to promote the show. We make a little mental note for the future. The load out isn’t as brutal as we’d feared, partly thanks to the venue’s new scissor lift and partly due to the fact that they’ve got some people to help us this time, but some purblind, spavinned Neanderthal has chosen to park their car right up against the front of the bus and then abandon it, necessitating the whole crew dragging the skip along the road so the bus can get out( much to the displeasure of the Albanian family, whose kids were due up in an hour to go and commit some burglaries ). It is with genuine feeling that we say “ Stockport, thank you and goodnight “……