Sushi for Beginners - Marian Keyes [17]
‘I’ve been Ted Mullins, a comedian who tells a load of oul’ jokes. Or should I say owl jokes?’ Ted twinkled. ‘And you’ve been an owl audience!’
Amid hysterical cheers, whistles, foot-stamping and thunderous applause, he took his leave.
Later, as everyone beat their way out, Ashling overheard person after person talking about Ted.
‘What’s yellow and wise? I thought I’d end myself laughing.’
‘That Ted was fantastic. Sexy too.’
‘I liked the way he lifted his –’
‘– T-shirt. Yeah, so did I’
‘D’you think he has a girlfriend?’
‘Bound to.’
The party was in a modern block along the quays. As it was Mark Dignan’s flat, and loads of the other guests were also comedians, Ashling had expected to be kept in hysterics all night. But though the room was crowded and noisy, a bizarre atmosphere of gloom pervaded.
‘They’re all keeping shtum in case anyone steals their lines or ideas,’ explained Joy, a veteran of such knees-ups. ‘Without a paying audience you wouldn’t get these fellas being funny to save their lives. Now Where is he?’
Joy went on a Half-man-half-badger walkabout and Ashling poured herself a glass of wine in the galley kitchen where Bicycle Billy was rolling a spliff. As he was short and troll-like, she was able to smile at him and say, ‘You were very funny tonight. You must get great satisfaction from what you do.’
‘Ah, not really,’ he said tetchily. ‘I’m writing a novel, you see. That’s what I really want to do with my life.’
‘Lovely,’ Ashling encouraged.
‘Oh no, it’s not,’ Billy was keen to emphasize. ‘It’s very truthful, very depressing. Very grim. Ah, where’s my lighter?’
‘Allow me,’ Ashling flared a match and lit his spliff. Seemed to her like he needed it.
Through the crowds in the sitting-room, she saw Ted enthroned on an armchair, an orderly queue of interested girls shuffling forward to make their case. Staring out the window into the oil-black waters of the Liffey was a broody figure, a thick stripe of grey through the front of his long, black hair. Aha, thought Ashling. International half-man-half-badger of mystery, I presume. Joy was nearby, energetically ignoring him.
Under the half-man-half-badger circumstances, Ashling decided to let her alone. Hanging around, swigging her wine, she spotted Mark Dignan. As he was almost seven-foot tall and had the poppiest eyes she’d ever seen on someone who hadn’t recently been strangled, she was able to have a little chat with him too.
But he dismissed her praise of his act with a cranky wave of his hand. ‘It’ll do until my novel is published.’
‘Ah, you’re writing a novel too. So, um… what’s it about?’
‘It’s about a man who sees the world in all its rottenness.’ Mark’s eyes bulged even further. They’d fall out on to the carpet soon if he wasn’t careful, Ashling thought anxiously. ‘It’s very depressing,’ Mark boasted. ‘Like, unbelievably depressing. He hates life more than life itself.’
Mark realized he’d said something vaguely witty and flicked an anxious glance to make sure no one had heard.
‘Er, the best of luck.’ Miserable bastard. Ashling moved away, and was buttonholed by an enthusiastic, bright-eyed man who insisted that Ted was a comedic anarchist, an ironic post-modern deconstructionist of the entire genre. ‘He’s taken the basic gag and completely subverted it. Challenging our expectations of what’s funny. Anyway, d’you want to dance?’
‘What? Here?’ Ashling was completely thrown. It was a long time since a strange man had asked her to dance. Especially in someone’s sitting-room. Although now that she looked, people – all female, of course – were kind of flinging themselves around to Fat Boy Slim. ‘Ah, no thanks,’ she apologized. ‘It’s too early in the night, I’m still too inhibited.’
‘OK, I’ll ask you again in an hour.’
‘Great!’ she exclaimed hollowly, taking in his eager face. An hour wouldn’t get her drunk enough. A lifetime wouldn’t suffice.
Some time later, to her delight, she spotted Joy kissing the face off Half-man-half-badger.
She hung around a little longer. Though