Last night, I watched ‘Bob
Monkhouse: The Last Stand’ on BBC4 (which documents his final gig at the pub theatre The Albany in London in 2003 to an audience of fellow
comics) and was knocked out by how pitch-perfect his performance was; this
despite being so ill, he sadly died a few months later.
I’d seen clips from the gig
previously and knew it was good, but seeing the majority of his set last night
revealed the word “good” doesn’t do it justice; his timing and delivery was
immaculate, truly immaculate, managing to somehow be both polished and low-key
in equal measure. The fact I’ve gigged at the Albany myself and could
see people I knew among the crowd at the Monkhouse show only served to
underline how immediate and brave that performance was; it’s a joy to watch a man still at the top of his game.
It made me laugh to see him
standing backstage before going on, knowing how tiny that area is. And to watch him perform to an audience that by rights should have been tough at the
best of times and then knock it out of the park was inspirational;
it makes me wish I was there.
It’s a shame Monkhouse isn’t
held in the high regard for being the high-precision comedian he was. The lengths to which he studied the art of
comedy to perfect his effortless delivery resulted in a confidence that some
mistook for smarminess, but to believe this is to do him a total disservice, as
behind that slick, professional persona was a man of real warmth and talent.
If you haven’t seen the documentary I
insist you seek it out: it's a comic masterclass, with easily the best
joke on receiving a cancer diagnosis you'll ever hear.