My stress levels
were pretty high yesterday, but all tension was soon brushed aside when I confirmed the comic legend Bobby Davro will play Hitchin Mostly Comedy in May.
I’d been gently working on the booking for a few days after being given Bobby’s number by a mutual friend last week. I sent him a text with all the details last Wednesday and chased it up a few days later, but didn’t want to push too hard, as I was using his private number and didn’t want to pester him unduly. I resigned myself on waiting until the weekend had passed before trying again so I didn’t encroach on his downtime too much, but this plan was soon put to bed when I checked my mobile on Sunday evening to pick up the following voicemail:
“Hey David, it’s Bobby Davro calling you; give me a call regarding doing your show. Thanks sir.”
With each passing year, my life gets more surreal. If you'd told Childhood Me that one day I’d be fielding calls from Davro, I’d have given you a weird look and crossed to the other side of the road, just to be safe; I should explain I pictured this fictional conversation outdoors, hence the suggested getaway, but feel free to scrap the last bit if that’s not how you imagined it; the point I'm making is: I wouldn’t believe you.
While I would never have anticipated the strange route my life seems prone to take, I do enjoy these little junctions, as they make the bad bits more bearable; who cares if your bank balance is in near-permanent minus figures if you take the odd call from a comic legend? That’s my mantra and I’ll stick to it (until the bailiffs take my mantra away).
Spin forward an hour and I had rung off on one of the easiest twenty-minute phone conversations I’ve ever been a half of; Davro's just a thoroughly nice chap. Out chat covered everything from our mutual love of Les Dawson (who he told me had taken him under his wing when he was new) to the importance of good stagecraft, with both of us openly sharing what had led us both to current creative point. I told him how lovely the Mostly Comedy crowd are and how pleased they’d be to see him and he said he’d love to come down.
When I told Glyn about the booking - having kept it quiet until then for the surprise - he was in stitches with excitement, and said how much he'd loved Davro's sketch shows as a kid. It looks set to be a great night. Now forgive me for dashing off, but I just received a fax from Les Dennis.
I’d been gently working on the booking for a few days after being given Bobby’s number by a mutual friend last week. I sent him a text with all the details last Wednesday and chased it up a few days later, but didn’t want to push too hard, as I was using his private number and didn’t want to pester him unduly. I resigned myself on waiting until the weekend had passed before trying again so I didn’t encroach on his downtime too much, but this plan was soon put to bed when I checked my mobile on Sunday evening to pick up the following voicemail:
“Hey David, it’s Bobby Davro calling you; give me a call regarding doing your show. Thanks sir.”
With each passing year, my life gets more surreal. If you'd told Childhood Me that one day I’d be fielding calls from Davro, I’d have given you a weird look and crossed to the other side of the road, just to be safe; I should explain I pictured this fictional conversation outdoors, hence the suggested getaway, but feel free to scrap the last bit if that’s not how you imagined it; the point I'm making is: I wouldn’t believe you.
While I would never have anticipated the strange route my life seems prone to take, I do enjoy these little junctions, as they make the bad bits more bearable; who cares if your bank balance is in near-permanent minus figures if you take the odd call from a comic legend? That’s my mantra and I’ll stick to it (until the bailiffs take my mantra away).
Spin forward an hour and I had rung off on one of the easiest twenty-minute phone conversations I’ve ever been a half of; Davro's just a thoroughly nice chap. Out chat covered everything from our mutual love of Les Dawson (who he told me had taken him under his wing when he was new) to the importance of good stagecraft, with both of us openly sharing what had led us both to current creative point. I told him how lovely the Mostly Comedy crowd are and how pleased they’d be to see him and he said he’d love to come down.
When I told Glyn about the booking - having kept it quiet until then for the surprise - he was in stitches with excitement, and said how much he'd loved Davro's sketch shows as a kid. It looks set to be a great night. Now forgive me for dashing off, but I just received a fax from Les Dennis.