After a quick tour of Cuba Street we ended up in Loretta for some unexceptional scran, then hurried along the street to the Opera House in time to claim our seats. We needn't have bothered, as the man was 15 minutes late taking the stage. This may have been for last-minute technical checks as they were videoing the show for a future release.
He started off with a quick "get to know you" session, which resulted in a bit of discussion with an audience member about whether they did, indeed, come from Dorset, and had travelled to Wellington from Dorset to be at the show tonight. He also established the oldest, youngest, and mode age of his audience and seemed disproportionately pleased that the majority were born in the 60s: "my people!" He also established his New Zealand touring credentials by mentioning the windiness in Wellington, and having a dig at Palmerston North.
He then got on with the show proper. This consisted of a series of anecdotes about his childhood, which involved a lot of tennis and "cashing up", as well as tales from boarding school, and, to a great extent, the trials and tribulations of parenting. Indeed, it seems his daughter is the main scriptwriter, or at least idea-producer, for a substantial part of the show. Kids, eh? Who'd 'ave 'em?
Yes, we were crying with laughter as we came out. He's a very funny man! Think I'll buy the DVD when it comes out to remind myself of what he said...and also to try and spot us in the crowd shots, although that may be tricky as we were at the back of the circle.
It was quite a long show and getting on for eleven o'clock by the time we emerged, wiping away tears, onto the mayhem that is Courtenay Place on a Saturday night. Home, James, and don't spare the horses!
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