The Theatre, in spite of being under threat of closure from the dull, grey, tired little number-crunchers at the mouth-breathing council, has been experiencing a steady renaissance over the past few years since The Milester's been at the helm, and now he's upped the stakes even higher so we have yet more to lose should the council finally pull the plug.
Not only has The Milester managed to seduce Richard Herring, Laura Solon, and Katy Brand into coming to Berwick over the coming months but — ticker-tape parade — SIMON ARMITAGE!
One day all poets will look like this
I bloody love Simon Armitage! If I ever get close enough to him, the jury's out as to whether I'll be able to stop myself from licking his face. Over Christmas I made the family sit through a telly programme of Si wandering over bleak, northern landscapes in a moody cagoule pondering the origins of that middle English classic 'Sir Gawain and The Green Knight' . It's a look, I'm pleased to report, that he pulled off with bardic aplomb.
When I heard Si was coming to The Maltings in May, I literally squealed in excitement, something I hadn't done since breakfast. Already I've made plans to take along one of his books with a view to getting a signature, but I don't know whether I'll be able to go through with it because I'm terrified of accidentally spitting on him when I speak.
But before I gaze lust-struck at Mr Armitage's incipient double-chin (and, oh, I shiver at the stories that could tell), I'm first lucky enough to spend an evening in the company of Laura Solon, Perrier Comedy Award-winning comedian.
El Hombre and I kid each other that this is our Valentine's Day treat; in honesty the tickets were bought ages ago — we've simply stuck a retrospective 'Valentine' label on it to save any extra expenditure in expressing our undiminished love for each other. But we do plan to share a romantic packet of
Nobby's Nuts beforehand.
During Laura's Rabbit Face Story Soup tonight I've made up my mind to laugh extra loudly and in unexpected places, so Laura feels the audience is on her side. I want her to know that although she's a female comedian I have her back covered; I am prepared to laugh in the face of overwhelming odds.
Cos that's the thinking, isn't it? C'mon, admit it. Female comedians aren't as funny as men, that's how it goes, right? I've had some experience of my own of this though as a writer, not a comedian: two different sitcom scripts sent separately to the BBC under my real (girlie) name, and then sent again to the BBC under male pseudonyms. BOTH scripts under the male pseudonyms got picked out of Auntie's Bulging Sack of Thousands and lauded, the scripts under my real name rejected. Same scripts, different names. Different names, same scripts. Obviously I'm not intimating that the Beeb are guilty of having certain gender-related expectations. Good heavens, no. But I'll just leave it to sit with you...
Anyway, I agree with Sandi Toksvig; to summarise — that in order for female comedians to be widely accepted they either have to play the ditzy bit of fluff or be a non-threatening lesbian in a pastel suit. (But not, y'know, too lesbian because that's, like, icky?) Then Sandi went on to say that research has shown that female members of an audience were less likely to laugh than male members of an audience at a female comedian.
While that's a depressing fact, I can't say I'm surprised. The minute a woman walks out on stage, every other female in the building has noticed, assessed and graded her hair, make-up, and how well she's co-ordinated her material with her shoes.
This isn't done deliberately. It happens as part of our autonomic nervous system, as unconscious and natural as bargain-hunting and a love of soft furnishings. As women we need to categorize the level of sexual threat another woman poses and then, when the results are in, we punish her for it — in this particular case by folding our arms and subconsciuosly snarling "Go on then, love. Make. Me. Laugh".
The utter cow.
0 comments:
Post a Comment