My most embarrassing moment

Introduction

A year or two back, my younger daughter gave me a present, 'Dear Dad, from you to me' , one of those gift shop gifts which are very well intentionedy, but, alas, time is so short that they can often gather dust and never be completed. I decided a while ago that I wouldn't let this happen, and would aim to complete it for Sophie, Alice and Tom, so whenever they want to, they could find out a bit more about their Dad. So, I have set up a private blog, to which only family have access, and have been posting to it during our summer 2013 holidays and subsequently. Many of these postings are personal, and best kept private for the family only, but those which are less private will also be posted on my main blog.

I can't quite remember when this happened, but it would have been some time between late 1987 and 1991: whilst Christians’ divide their calendar between BC and AD, mine is BJ and ADD: before Jane, and Anno Domina Domina, the years after Jane came into my life. The following was BJ.

One of the theatres I used to go to was the Library Theatre in the basement of the central Manchester library.

One evening, I went on a date to watch Julian Clary and fanny the wonder dog. Openly gay, his routine was heavily innuendo based, and I was his fall guy.

His routine that night was based on him wearing a policeman's outfit. True enough, through the wonders of google, here is a picture of him:

After coming on stage, he picked out various people on the front rows, bringing suitable victims up on stage. I can still picture his line: what's your name, where do you come from, and what do you do, and when I said I was an accountant, he cooed 'oooooh, king of double entry; come on stage'. And that was it.

I am afraid to say that I totally couldn't handle it, and rigor mortis struck: which made me his fall guy the entire half of the show I was on stage. Each of his three or four victims had to hold his policeman's truncheon when we came on stage, and he decided I held it best, so it was my job to hold it through the first half of the show. And whilst other victims took part in the spirit of the entertainment, to everyone's delight I just couldn't handle being on stage.

I recall when my ordeal was over (or almost over, at the end, when Julian did his thanks, there was a special thanks for Allan the accountant), in the bar during the interval, I was fêted- I am sure now, looking back at a same distance of twenty five years- that it was 'there but the grace of God go I', people feeling sorry for me.

The only good news is that in those days, no-one had camera phones. So no evidence of the night.

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