Life and Laughing_ My Story - Michael McIntyre [116]
Just the year before I was ‘spare’ at Jongleurs and now I was waking up on the day I was to appear at the Royal Variety Performance. I was determined, focused and, thankfully, healthy. After the peculiar ailments that affected me during my pressure-filled Edinburgh Festivals, I feared I would be struck down with some career-threatening disease, but I was fine. I was picked up from home early in the afternoon. A chauffeur-driven BMW pulled up outside my flat. This is it. I looked out of my living room window and smiled at the driver, who nodded towards me with a look of deep disappointment. He was obviously hoping for Rod Stewart, Manilow or Barlow and ended up with me. I kissed Kitty and my baby Lucas goodbye clutching my newly dry-cleaned borrowed suit.
I wasn’t used to such luxury transport. I normally used my amazingly cheap local mini-cab firm. The price was reflected in the condition of their cars. One car I took had no rearview mirror; the driver had his own vanity mirror that he would hold up to see behind him. I sat in the back and waved at Kitty waving Lucas’s hand at the window. As we neared central London I got more and more nervous with every passing mile. By the time we arrived at the Coliseum theatre I was dizzy with anxiety. The area was swarming with activity; there were television trucks and police roadblocks and barriers with autograph hunters wedged behind them.
I checked in at the stage door and picked up my ‘Artist Pass’ and proudly hung it around my neck. Backstage, as you can imagine, is wild. In addition to the comedians, singers and bands were stage shows like The Sound of Music, Wicked and Spamalot. Everyone was rushing around in a frenzy in various states of undress. Proper showbiz, I loved it. The show was being rehearsed throughout the day. I waited in the wings watching Rod Stewart before it was my turn.
‘It’s a heartache, nothing but a heartache …’
I should have been marvelling at watching a legend at such close proximity, but I was in a trance, I had a job to do, I had to justify having this artist’s pass around my neck.
When Rod left the stage, there was on offstage announcement: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Britain’s hottest comedy star … Michael McIntyre.’
I walked out as a few of the crew members applauded. If you’re thinking my ‘Britain’s hottest comedy star’ introduction was a bit generous given that I had achieved nothing to date other than my few minutes on the Charlotte Church Show, allow me to clear that up for you: I wrote it.
There was an enormous orchestra pit directly in front of the stage filled with musicians. I started bantering with them. I said to a man holding a trumpet. ‘Hello, sir? What do you do for a living? I’m guessing something in the musical field?’ There were chuckles from the crew. I was supposed to go through my set, but there was no way I was going to tell my jokes to an empty room. I wanted to save them. I just messed about and practised my bow to the Royal Box and then exited stage left. I got a feel for the stage and visualized my gig.
‘Excuse me?’ said an unfamiliar voice from behind me. I turned to see that it was Jason Orange from Take That.
‘You were really funny, mate,’ said a quarter of Take That.
‘But I didn’t do any of my jokes,’ I confessed.
‘Yeah, but you were funny. Good luck.’
This moment from Jason Orange really served to relax me. Addison had tried to calm me down, Danny had a go, I was speaking to Kitty on the phone every ten minutes, but ultimately it