Monday night – earlier this week.
Squashed into a small and dank-smelling space attached to a nearby pub with around 80 other people of mixed ages. Four comedians perform, emerging one by one from a curtained corner of the room. We can see their pacing feet beneath the inadequate curtain beforehand and snatch views of half-drunk pints on their way in and out. At least three of the performers are regularly seen on TV, one of whom was apparently so famous that his appearance was supposed to be kept secret, had pushed the price of tickets up a little (still comfortably below £20) and ensured we were packed in even more tightly than usual. This is a place where big comedians regularly come to try out new material – pretty cool even though it can obviously be a bit hit and miss.
So close were we to our fellow punters that we felt compelled to exchange remarks beforehand. It seemed that we were not at the coolest local gig of the evening after all. Their friends (and it turned out several of our own friends too) were at the town’s theatre attending a Stormzy gig which, by all later accounts, went down an absolute storm. It’s his home town (I’ve mentioned this before).
Debate – which of us middle-aged consumers of said ‘cool stuff’ was actually the more ‘cool’? Haha – neither, I guess, but we mustn’t give up pretending to ourselves or all is lost.