May 14, 2009
Without any warning, Clive James appeared on stage and began talking as we, the audience, remained illuminated by the house lights. Why? Because that’s the way Clive prefers things: not so much a stage performance, more of a cosy, impromptu chat with his fans. And, were it not for his hardcore fans, undoubtedly Clive James would be unable to tour this rambling anecdotal odyssey of a performance across the UK: no matter how sharp and effortless Clive’s easy humour may be, and no matter how easy his lyrical speeches are on the ear, the sound of at least five hundred people forcing out belly laughs for comments that deserved chuckles begins to wear on one’s sense of humour.
Respect where it’s due though. Veering unpredictably between a vast array of subjects, including his various existing and imminent publications, Clive was able to discuss Peter Andre and Jordan in the same breath as the Peace progress in the Middle East. One gets the impression Clive is neither impressed nor surprised by the strange set of priorities modern media has adopted since his departure from our TV screens.
Overall, Clive’s words were entertaining enough to maintain the majority of the audience’s attention, but – although perhaps this is what he intended - his words felt too relaxed to be classed as true entertainment: like sitting and listening to your grandfather talk for an hour and a half about nothing in particular, while your drunken aunt sits laughing about nothing in particular, and your grandmother sits quietly tutting to herself, because she’s heard his stories several times before.
However, there were moments when Clive’s words shone through the disingenuous guffaws of adulation emanating from his audience. And at these rare moments I found myself laughing out loud at Clive’s hilariously laconic outlook on life, Britain and the rest of the world.
Respect where it’s due though. Veering unpredictably between a vast array of subjects, including his various existing and imminent publications, Clive was able to discuss Peter Andre and Jordan in the same breath as the Peace progress in the Middle East. One gets the impression Clive is neither impressed nor surprised by the strange set of priorities modern media has adopted since his departure from our TV screens.
Overall, Clive’s words were entertaining enough to maintain the majority of the audience’s attention, but – although perhaps this is what he intended - his words felt too relaxed to be classed as true entertainment: like sitting and listening to your grandfather talk for an hour and a half about nothing in particular, while your drunken aunt sits laughing about nothing in particular, and your grandmother sits quietly tutting to herself, because she’s heard his stories several times before.
However, there were moments when Clive’s words shone through the disingenuous guffaws of adulation emanating from his audience. And at these rare moments I found myself laughing out loud at Clive’s hilariously laconic outlook on life, Britain and the rest of the world.