Wayne, Wayne, Go Away…!!!

I went out on Saturday with Dean and his brother, Wayne.

I have not seen Wayne now for around two years and it was good to see him. He hasn’t changed a bit; he is still wide as a barn door. Although he has stopped hugging people when drunk and wasting drinks by throwing them at people. We went to Lee Hurst’s Backyard comedy club. We have been there a fair few times over the years, and sometimes the acts that are on are repeated and never change their sets so occasionally you have to sit through a set you’ve heard before. But Saturday was great. We had Lee Hurst himself as the compere, and he was on form as he usually is – (I particularly liked the way he wound up a bunch of northerners in the audience) – then Howard Read as the opener who was quite entertaining, Matt Brown who was okay, and then the headline act was a guy called Steve Day who is Britain’s only deaf comic. I have seen him before and thought he was very good, but this time he was fantastic!! Very funny and his set was virtually all new material which is promising. After the acts finished we did something we have never done before and stayed in the club. (They usually put on a bit of a disco afterwards, but we used to go to the Hayfield down the road rather than hang around). However, after the last couple of times we went to the Hayfield the standard in there has dropped considerably and I don’t think any of us could be bothered to walk for ten minutes to a pub where you have to pay to have a below average night. I pointed out to Wayne that he should go to the bar as he was the nearest, but he pointed out that he was also the furthest away. So I went to the bar and we had another 4-pint jug of Carling and talked about politics. I knew that Dean was quite clued up on politics but I was surprised to hear Wayne discussing some of the finer points of local government policy with him - Sometimes people surprise you. I was left in the middle like a cat watching a tennis match, barely able to get a word in. I really should try to take more of an interest in politics. But it was a good night. Wayne only Irish whipped me into one garage door on the way to the kebab shop, where we got a kebab each (well I had salad and houmous in pitta bread as it was all I could afford) and went home.

Note – I have yet to walk into any kebab shop in London whose menu is spelt 100% correctly. A few times some have come close; but there’s always one small mistake like “CILLI SAUCE” or “CHIKCEN DONNER”, or the best one, spotted in a kebab shop in Kilburn High Road – “HOMOS IN PITTA BREAD” !!! So I take it you get a pitta bread filled with George Michael and Paul O’Grady and the like…!!!