Sunday, 19 December 2010
A few years back I was booked to do a New Year's Eve gig in a tatty back street pub in Nottingham. Exactly the type of venue I go down well in!
When I arrived I spoke to the landlady, a classy lady with, unsurprisingly, less than a full mouthful of teeth. Small and feisty, this sophisticated chav proceeded to introduce me to her extended family including her current shag and her 17 yr old daughter. The daughter couldn't have been more unlike her mother; hefty, unwashed and loud, she was inappropriately dressd in a tiny tatty denim skirt and flimsy top slashed almost to the waist.
When I walked onstage it was to find that the daughter was sitting in the front row; legs akimbo and proudly displaying the fact that she was freshly shaved and wearing only the flimsiest of thongs, leaving nothing to the imagination!
This was bad enough but I swear it winked at me. Repeatedly!
So, it was at this point of the story, as I related it to a friend recently while on Leicester Market, that a little old lady standing beside me piped up and said 'Oh I hate it when they wink at you'
To this day I have no idea exactly how much of the conversation she had heard. Not much I hope.