Life and Laughing: My Story (37 page)

Could I do it?

Could I do it for Addison who had gambled on me? Could I do it for Kitty waiting for me at home, a bundle of nerves, loving and believing in me? Could I do it for my baby son Lucas whose future depended on me? Could I ‘go get ’em’ for my dad who never lived to see the day? Could I do it for Jason Orange from Take That? Could I do it for me?

I strode on to the stage. The view of the audience was unexpected. They were very well lit so that the television cameras could catch their reaction. In Brighton there were 1,800 people, but with the bright spotlight on me, I couldn’t see any of them. I could just hear the lovely sound of their united laughter. Now I could see every member of the audience. They were all dolled-up in dinner jackets, party frocks, their jewels glistening in the over-lit auditorium. They all shared the same expression: ‘Who is that?’ I glanced up at Prince Charles, who was sporting exactly the same look.

Whatever Prince Charles said, it can’t have been THAT funny.

I launched into my walks routine and got no reaction whatsoever. The opening of the joke isn’t particularly funny, but you would expect some support from an audience of 2,000. I quickly changed my plan and turned to my best short jokes, including the one about buying Kitty’s pregnancy tests. I didn’t panic. I inherently knew that my
jokes
were funny. I just had to perform them well and with a smile on my face and trust that people watching at home would find them as funny as everybody else outside of this stuffy occasion. However, as my act went on, the laughter built, and I started to receive rounds of applause. I ended with the walks routine and the audience were in the palm of my hand.

I was just as good as in Brighton; the audience were tougher, but I had done what I set out to do. I bowed to the Royal Box and the smiling Charles and Camilla and left the stage. I was buzzing with excitement. I passed crew members, other performers and Barry Manilow doing breathing exercises. I half expected them to congratulate me but realized that nobody had seen my gig. Nothing had changed backstage, but everything had changed for me.

I climbed the stairs to return to the pacing corridor I had left not fifteen minutes earlier. I was desperate for someone to confirm it had gone well. The corridor was now empty but for two people, Addison and Danny. As soon as they saw me they ran towards me and into my arms like I had just scored the winning penalty in the World Cup final. We jumped up and down hugging and celebrating.

I did it.

25

That was three years ago. The Royal Variety was my big break. From then on, I did all the things that you may have seen me do. Panel shows like
Mock the Week
and
Have I Got News for You
. Chat shows like
Friday Night with Jonathan Ross
. Stand-up shows like
Live at the Apollo
and the Royal Variety again. My own show,
Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow
. And I released my DVDs,
Live and Laughing
and
Hello Wembley
.

In action on my
Comedy Roadshow
in my favourite city of them all.

I tried to write the last three years for you in detail, but it was so boring to read. It turns out that writing about success is actually very dull, so I deleted it, for your sakes. It was like a long-winded arrogant CV (the previous paragraph is a clue). I discussed it with Kitty and my mother and Addison and my publishers, and everyone agreed. In fact, only my 27-inch iMac questioned my decision: ‘Are you sure you want to delete?’ it asked.

I clicked ‘Yes’, and I made the right decision.

But I still wanted to write a final chapter to fill you in on some of the lovely things that have happened to me and update you on some of the characters in the book. You know at the end of ‘films based on a true story’ when they have writing on the screen to tell you what happened to the people in the story? I always love that, so I’m going to do the same thing with my book. Now, I don’t actually know what happened to everybody, so I will fabricate some. I will indicate the false ones, so that I don’t get into any legal strife.

Barry ‘Baz’ Cryer

A bona-fide comedy legend, Barry has written for the likes of Tommy Cooper, Bob Hope and Frankie Howerd, but maintains that working on
The Kenny Everett Show
with my dad was his favourite. I hadn’t seen him since we sat in the studio audience together at my father’s ill-fated BBC pilot
The Hecklers
, until fifteen years later he called me at the Lyric Theatre in London, where I was performing. Meeting up with Barry and listening to his stories about working with my father has been so special for me.

Kenny Everett

Kenny died a few years after my father, aged fifty, from an AIDS-related illness. He is greatly missed by his legions of fans and by comedy as a whole. There are photos of him all over my mum’s home in France. She misses her friend.

The Tarot card reader

Revealed as a fraud in a Scotland Yard sting days after my mother’s reading. The psychic bookshop was actually just a front for money-laundering and drugs-trafficking. The so-called psychics are each serving life sentences. (False)

Sam Geddes

Sam is married and lives in Hong Kong doing a job that nobody understands. He seems to be successful at it. I told him he features quite heavily in my book and he said, ‘You haven’t mentioned the boxing, have you?’

Sandrine

The girl who popped my cherry found happiness with Panos Triandafilidis, the Greek kid from Merchant Taylors’. He works as a ferry driver and they live in Dover and have a holiday home in Calais. They have three of the hairiest babies the world has ever seen. (False)

Mark Cousins

I was nominated this year for a Royal Television Society Award for my performance on
Michael McIntyre’s Comedy Roadshow
. I lost to Harry Hill. Another low point was when Ant and Dec walked towards me and I shouted, ‘Ant and Dec!’ only to find it was actually Ant and some other guy called Paul. I was just so used to seeing them together that I saw one and assumed the other one would be next to him. The high point of the evening was running into Mark Cousins, who was also nominated for a film he had made. I told him I was writing this book and that he was the first person to believe in me. We shared a hug. It was lovely to see him again, and to meet ‘Ant and Paul’.

‘It’s complicated’ guy

I don’t give a shit.

Paul Duddridge

Gave up being an agent and answered his true calling. He is now a successful motivational speaker and self-help guru in Los Angeles.

Brummie Jongleurs comedian

After years of legal wrangling, he won substantial damages from Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, Woody Allen, Robin Williams and the estate of Richard Pryor for stealing his material. (False)

Jongleurs

The Jongleurs empire that I used to play went out of business. The original owner is now relaunching a series of clubs still using the Jongleurs name. Good luck to them.

Paul Tonkinson

Paul and I are still very close. He came to one of my shows at the Manchester Arena, where there were 13,000 people in the audience. I thought it was one of my best nights of the tour. ‘It was good, but I still think you could be better,’ he told me afterwards.

Charlotte Church

Just for the record, I do not fancy her. (False)

Jason Orange

Jason made an incredible comeback with the rest of Take That, who played Wembley Stadium on their last tour. As far as I’ve been told, they are returning this year to play the Royal Variety Performance alongside the youngest ever host in its history, me.

So what about me?

Well, I cleared my debts and paid off my DFS sofa that my wife re-upholstered and is downstairs as I write. I’m going to be honest; I more than paid off my debts, so thanks to you for buying my DVDs and coming to see my live shows. I also finally got on the property ladder. After much house-hunting, we found our dream family home in Hampstead. When my parents divorced, I thought I would never be able to afford to return to leafy Hampstead. Well, not only have I returned, but in a bizarre twist of fate, I bought a house on the very road where I grew up. Just twenty-two houses up the road from the house we sold to the Osbournes in 1984. Outside Kitty’s and my bedroom window is the road I used to walk on with my dad, and the road I walked alone when he died.

It’s been a strange circle of life coming back here. Stranger still when my mum and Steve visited, and Steve helped me paint my office walls Brinja No. 222 from Farrow & Ball, although he started having flashbacks and rag-rolled them at first. My mum, Steve and I couldn’t resist knocking on the door of our old house, and the present owner, a sweet Jewish gentleman, very kindly showed us around.

It was weird to see my parents’ old room again, after all these years, where my dad used to blow his morning breath into my baby face. Surreal to see the once dark jungle-like out-of-bounds living room now light and modernized, and to see Lucy’s and my old bedroom with the ceiling that once fell on us. Unfortunately, Steve had another flashback and made a pass at the present owner’s wife.

After the Royal Variety, I sold out just about every venue I played. I started in 200- to 300-seat capacity theatres and built my way up to the biggest venues in the UK, selling out fifty-four arenas each of around 10,000 seats in the autumn of 2009. I’ve had some pretty wild dreams in my life, in fact I’ve spent most of my life dreaming about success, but what has happened to me was beyond all of them. Things occurred so fast I barely had time to take a breath. It’s only now, writing this book, that I have begun to digest everything. I suppose it’s part of the reason I don’t have many amusing or insightful stories about the past few years. The fact is that I’ve been working flat out and anything funny that has happened I’ve turned into stand-up material that you’ve probably heard.

An advert for my DVD at Piccadilly Circus. It looks very cool but was actually revolving with several other adverts. I went to see it with Kitty and we had to drive around the block twelve times before we caught it!

It’s just mind-blowing. One minute I was traipsing around comedy clubs telling my jokes, and the next minute I’m playing arenas where they’re selling merchandise with my jokes written on them. Some of the jokes that couldn’t get me to headline Jongleurs were now on T-shirts, key rings and mouse mats.

If there was one moment when I was able to stop and appreciate what was happening to me, it was on my last night at the O
₂
in London. The O
₂
is the biggest venue I’ve played: it’s the biggest venue in Europe and holds 16,000 people. I played there for four nights. Before my tour started, I saw Madonna there, the first night I did was replacing Michael Jackson, the night before my final night Beyoncé was there. It simply doesn’t get any bigger than this.