"Here's Freddie."

A poster in a pub toilet, promising a set from 'one of the best Freddie Mercury tribute acts in the country' for a ticket price of £2 is either hyperbolic to-the-extreme or one hell of a loss-leader.

It's not that I'm knocking them for providing a competitively priced night out - my comedy club proves I'm all-for-it - but there's a lot to be said for promoting your event accurately; to offer admission for less than a pint is to shoot yourself in the foot, metaphorically speaking, however cheap your overheads. And if the performer puts in the performance of a lifetime for just two quid, imagine what they'd do for £4.50.

Not to mention how awkward it would be to watch such a flamboyant tribute in a low-ceilinged public bar; it doesn't bear thinking about. Imagine if he caught your eye; I'd be doing everything I could to swallow my own tongue as protection. And how would he tackle Barcelona if it's in the set? Would he perform it with a Montserrat Caballé hand-puppet? I'd book to find out if I didn't have to sit through a set from my least favourite band; John Deacon had it right.

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