Ross Noble the comedian could possibly be a genius. When it comes to live performance, he plays a very dangerous game, bounding onto the stage with bucketfuls of energy but virtually no script, relying almost entirely on audience interaction and the random musings of his derranged brain. It's a kind of free-form comedy jazz, and when it works it's absolutely spellbinding. Last night he covered dozens of topics simultaneously, weaving stories around conversations he had with audience members, until eventually they became characters in some barking mad fairytale. We had the guy with the incredibly weak bladder, the squeaky-voiced pixie with the tiny willy ("It may be small, but it is magical..." ), the least talented motorbike rider in the world, another guy who's man-breasts made wonderous music when hit with a mop, the bum-faced child (don't ask...) and many, many more besides. The grand finale was (again, on the suggestions of various audience members) an impression of a cheeky muslim riding Bernie Clifton's ostrich, dodging a squirrel, having an owl fall on his head, playing football with the owl, and finally collapsing with an asthma attack. I appreciate that reading all of this won't make much sense. You had to be there. So next time Mr Noble is in your area, make sure you are there!
In other news, I've just realised that a music rehearsal I promised to go to tomorrow clashes with a birthday meal... that I promised to go to. What to do?! This could be a world first attampt at playing the piano while simultaneously eating mixed Mezze.
