Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #27

This week’s column is dedicated to a very special woman. She knows who she is.

I can’t name her because, to put it simply, I do not know her name. I do not know her name because she refused to tell me. Which, to be honest, is all she refused to tell me.

Getting her to shut up proved to be quite the chore.

I am talking about the drunken woman who persisted in heckling at last night’s Jolly Mixtures gig.

She appeared out of nowhere, like a mirage in the desert. Only one that was muttering to herself, shouting that everyone should be shot and asking ‘Seymour’ to feed her.

What was she saying? Who is this ‘Seymour’ of which she speaks? And how hungry is she?

Alas, these are questions to which we will never know the answers.

She is a mystery to me and us all, as elusive as the Grail itself. To the mad, pissed up, old Grail – this is for you…

Hecklers are one of those odd aspects of a comedy gig.

Some comics hate them and their disruptive ways, others think it helps lift the show to another level.

Most people don’t like to take part in audience participation, but God bless those that throw themselves and their misguided opinions in, regardless.

Whether or not it is good for a gig depends entirely on the heckler, their motivations (in this case a pint of Stella) and the comic’s ability to deal with them.

It needs to be part social worker, part name caller.

There is no set etiquette for dealing with hecklers – unfortunately you can’t take a course in verbally sparring with someone that’s necked have a bottle of Aftershock and is now ranting about the BBC being full of communists.

It is often like trying to talk a depressed man down off a bouncy castle – sometimes futile but always funny.

I’d like to think that both I, and the other Jolly members of the Mixtures dealt with the woman – who we christened Jean – well.

We joked and humoured her for long enough to get mileage out of it, and then like strict primary school teachers, put our fingers on our lips and waited for her to quieten down.

Obviously that didn’t work – she was off her face, not nine years old – but after a while the jokes turned to commands and what started as ‘hilarious riffing’ became crowd control. A crowd of one.

They say three is a crowd but Jean did a great job disproving that rule. If she was the only one to attend a football match it’d still kick off.

To be fair to Jean (or whatever) I think she was trying to do her bit to throw a spark into the evening’s proceedings, and yet if there’s one thing we have learnt; it’s that sparks and drunk people don’t mix. (Please spare a thought for her this 5 November.)

The problem is; what started out as a bit of fun interaction turned into an alcohol-fuelled nuisance as everything she said got louder and more incomprehensible.

Carlsberg don’t do hecklers, but they gave this one a damn good go.

It’s hard to interact with someone when you have to decipher the slurs.

It’s something akin to holding a séance with a dyslexic ghost. You’re not going to get anywhere fast, and it certainly won’t be as meaningful as you’d hope.

Nevertheless, I thank Jean.

Yes; she was loud. Very loud, in fact. She could certainly get a job somewhere that can’t afford to fork out on a Tannoy.

But I thank Jean because apart from the spurious comments about choreography and being a paying customer (even though she didn’t), she provided some great laughs that night.

Laughs we couldn’t have predicted or planned on, laughs that helped the audience warm to us further. Laughs that will stay with me forever.

So thank you Jean and please, please, come again next month.

*But don’t, obviously.

• Rob can be seen next at the Ilkley Literature Festival alongside Jolly Mixtures on Saturday 19 October, free entry. And at The Deep in Hull, previewing their Hull Comedy Festival Show on Weds 23 Oct.
• He can also be seen as his alter-ego, Jerry Bucham, at My Newt Comedy (bite size) at The White Lion in Kildwick this Tuesday 22 October, which is also being recorded for Drystone Radio.