Rob Gilroy: Miss it, Miss Out?

I want to discuss Monty Python again. I know, I know – ‘stop banging on about it Rob! Get a life. They’ll all be dead in a week’.

The reason I mention it is because last weekend was the final performance and – despite fears – the team managed to stay together for the entire run. Not only that but it wasn’t the mega-disaster that most people, particularly the Pythons, thought it would be – it was funny. Very funny, in fact.

Once the show ended, a surprisingly large amount of people were saying they were glad they’d bitten the bullock and bought tickets, as they weren’t disappointed. That’s good, people overcoming their doubts to find they actually enjoyed something. It’s a heart-warming story and, coincidentally, it’s also the plot of the film I’m writing, detailing my struggle to enjoy eating couscous.

But that made me think – if there were people concerned it would be a bit pile of cash-grabbing chuff who overcame the, then surely there were people with the same doubts, who decided to stay away. That makes me sad. Not crying into my pillow while listening to Paul Simon sad, but sad nonetheless.

The show was brilliant – it was the perfect send off for a brilliant comedy group, one most fans would love.

I’m not saying that to make those people who missed it feel bad, we’ve all turned down things and had no regrets – my first encounter with couscous springs to mind. I just can’t help but feeling that for those people on the fence, the odds were stacked against them.

I was dubious about going to begin with – I was so convinced I wouldn’t even be in with a chance of getting a ticket that I stumbled into it blindly, like a blind person stumbling into a hilarious situation.

I’d pretty much told myself not to bother trying as the tickets would sell in seconds yet the next day, in a moment of spontaneity that seldom happens to me – except for one horrible incident with a rubber ring and a spoon of couscous – I decided to give it ago. I logged into Ticketmaster at work (unless you’re reading this boss) and waited for 9am to roll round.

Roll round, it did – that’s how time works – I clicked on to get tickets and to my surprise two came up straight away. They were, however, incredibly expensive. Now Ticketmaster does not afford you the luxury of mulling over a purchase; instead you get a small ticking clock screaming at you – ‘MAKE A DECISION! DO IT! DO IT NOW!’ It was this time-based pressure that forced my hand. I got the tickets and reasoned with myself that if I still couldn’t justify the price, then I would sell them via eBay and fleece some unsuspecting fool for thousands of pounds!

Yet, once I was sat there, the decision taken out of my hands and the tickets in my possession – following confirmation from my bank manager that I could sustain such a purchase – I suddenly became giddy again. I was going to see Monty Python – my heroes! How could I even consider selling them on, this was a once in a life time thing.

I won’t lie – it was a lot of money. I budgeted accordingly and turned down other costly things – including getting tickets to see Barry Humphries on his last tour of the UK, and eating. It was difficult to do but I hoped it would be worth it, and I am very pleased to say it was. Yet I can certainly see why people would be hesitant to chalk up that kind of money.

If this modern age has taught us anything, it’s that nothing is sacred. Every childhood memory is ripe for pillaging. Heck, last week’s episode of Coronation Street is probably being re-booted as we speak. It’s understandable why cynicism sets in – terrible remake after delayed sequel come out and – at best; they’re not as bad as you thought, and at worst; they strip the original of its merits. That’s a big gamble on something you hold dear.

With ticket prices on the up all the time, not to mention booking fees, reservation fees, credit card fees and paying for the online timer fees, the additional costs almost equal the price of a ticket. And that’s before you factor in hotel and travel expenses for those unmissable events that, in all their unmissableness, can’t be bothered coming to places other than London! This isn’t Mary Poppins – we don’t all live in London anymore!

Granted there are DVDs and TV broadcasts – as well as cinema screenings in a further attempt to grab money from you – so you’ll never truly miss it, but it’s not the same as seeing it live. By the time the shows come round and the good reviews hit, it’s too late to grab a ticket without selling your body or the bodies of your closest family, to afford one. It’s a catch 23. (Like a catch 22 but worse!)

I don’t know what my point is with all this, all I know is I’ve become angrier as I’ve gone on. I think it’s a number of things – costs should be lowered, booking sites shouldn’t try to swindle us in every which way and these big reunion events shouldn’t be so London-centric. But I think the main thing is creators should do more to instil faith in loyal fans – and create something that is worthwhile.

I’ve been a Python fan for years, but not as long as many other people who probably didn’t see the show. If they’ve stayed fans for so long then they would be willing to see the show but if nobody, including the stars, has any confidence in it, then why should they? I still stand by my view that the Python shows were incredible, not genre-defining but definitely fan-pleasing and ultimately, that’s how it should be. After all; it’s comedy, not couscous.

Rob is at The Stand Comedy Club, Newcastle, on Friday 25 and Saturday 26 July.