Tewkesbury The Roses Theatre Wednesday April 25th

We stay overnight at the Brewhouse, which gives us an extra opportunity to further scandalize the curtain-twitchers of the Grumpy Valley Residential Complex, before rolling out Tewkesbury – bound. When Big John stops for diesel this time I only whimper slightly when I go to pay for it…I must be getting stronger. For the first time on this tour I sit up front with John as we head up the M5, and am given a sobering lesson in how different it is driving a big old beast like the Bogey, and how good a driver John is. You have to look waaaaaaay further up the road than you do in a car to anticipate hazards, roadworks, and most specifically, the semi-insane antics of people who shouldn’t even have been given a cycling proficiency certificate, let alone a driving license. At road level you’re not as aware of this normally, but in the elevated cab of the bus you can see all the lane-switching, late-braking, mobile phone-using, makeup-applying madness first hand. John DOES throw the odd corrosive epithet at a particularly mental driver from time to time, but by and large he’s a picture of cool professionalism…and when the bus is sideswiped by a mighty wind, he gently lets her drift with the gust then smoothly corrects her line. On the rare occasions I’ve been driving a 7.5 tonner in high winds, I tend to react to these gusts by wrenching the wheel in the opposite direction, sending the truck careering across several carriageways and large parts of the surrounding countryside, but John is all Zen-like calm, and a pretty fascinating chap to sit and talk to as well. Did you know the first number one in the official Top Forty was sung by Al Martino ? Or that The Joker in the early Batman series was played by Caesar Romero ? Or that the Siberian Ice Squirrel only attacks when someone gets hold of it’s nuts ? Me neither, but my life is richer for the knowledge. As we pull up at The Roses Theatre, I see a large, white-hair-and- bearded chap outside talking to Nick, and he looks vaguely familiar. It’s only when we go inside and I hear someone refer to him as “ Smiffy” that the penny drops. Back in 1988, when the white hair and beard were jet black, Smiffy and I worked together with American cartoon-rockers W.A.S.P at the Castle Donington Monsters Of Rock festival. To go through all the shenanigans of that particular event would involve a blog all of it’s own, so let’s just say it involved flare pistols, sacked drummers, and a topless Page Three girl. Also at the theatre is local resident and fellow traveller in those more hedonistic times, “Krusher” Joule, former music journalist and the man responsible for the sleeve art of records by such rock gods as Ozzy Osbourne. Krusher tells me he’s currently working on a book about those ever so slightly mental days with the Oz, which, if it ever makes it past the Rottweiler vigilance of Sharon Osbourne, will be a hair-curling read. It’s good to see the old chap again after all these years, and Smiffy, who was once a slightly terrifying ex-Marine, has mellowed into a more genial giant. It’s a bit disconcerting to see how the ravages of time have left their mark on these two fine follows, and I wonder if they think the same about me. In fact they’d be blind if they don’t…back in ’88 I had a full head of hair and weighed about half of my current ballast…but I like to think Old Father Time has been kinder to me.However, I’d also like to think that I have Rupert Murdoch’s bank balance and Johnny Depp’s mysterious allure, so perhaps I should just take a BIG bite of a reality sandwich…..The Roses is a splendid little theatre which carries the stigma of being the place where comic legend Eric Morecambe performed his last one-man show before expiring of a heart attack in one of the dressing rooms, but there’s no hint of sombreness today. We’ve got the bus parked up, the shower is good, the facilities are great…now all we need is an audience. Ah. This is another one of those “ I’m sorry Tony, business here has been really bad “ theatres, so we’re looking at fairly meagre numbers again. Still, there’s nothing to be done about it…we just have to bite the bullet. The folks who HAVE turned up tonight have shelled out good money to be here, so we owe them the courtesy of giving them value for money. One thing I will say about this show is that we’re totally committed to doing just that…everyone gets the full production at all times, and it’s one of the things that will stand us in good stead for the future. Even Smiffy, gnarled old veteran that he is, is suitably impressed by the slickness and quality of tonight’s show, but admits that his favourite bit was where the band were blasting through a rock groove jam at the soundcheck !!! Old rockers never die, they just end up as Chief Tech at theatres in Tewkesbury….He also ventures the opinion that this show knocks That’ll Be The Day into a cocked hat. This is both encouraging and frustrating; we KNOW this is a better show, it’s just a case of working out how we can convince everyone else of the fact. We certainly convert a good few people to the cause tonight, especially the group of ladies right at the front who are having an absolute ball. They sing and clap along throughout, and when it’s time to get up and boogie they do so with vigour although, it must also be said, with a curious lack of anything approaching a sense of rhythm. Tonight’s crowd is another “ little and loud “ one, and they really seem to get what we’re trying to do here. They love the acoustic stuff as much as the poppier songs and the full-bore rampages, and I notice at least one couple whose attention is very firmly fixed on the images we’re firing up onto the screens. The show really does have something for everyone…now all we need is for everyone to come and see it ! Despite the fact that we’re staying here tonight and have several decent pubs within striking distance, everyone stays on the bus where a lively, and occasionally heated, discussion about the merits of such media as Facebook and it’s impact on individual privacy takes place. It’s all interesting stuff, and only very mild violence is involved. Surprisingly, pretty much everyone drifts off to bed quite early, which is maybe just as well. Tomorrow is the weirdest show on the tour, The Concorde at Eastleigh, where we can’t actually put the normal production in. Much fannying about will ensue.. Still, what could possibly go wrong….?!