Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #19

As a comedian, you may expect my life to be glamorous – endless after-show parties and drinks with artistic sorts – but you’d be wrong.

Yes, I’ve enjoyed the occasional Skol with a decorator called Pete, however my life is a modest affair.

Do not think of me as Lord Downton (off of Downton Abbey) instead think of me as Rob Gilroy (off of this Giggle Beats column). I’m just a normal bloke.

I enjoy Lambrini and Pizza Express, sure; but I’m not all about the highlife, sometimes I do shop at Aldi.

Particularly when I need to buy an inflatable mattress and non-specific cooked meats at the same time – they really do have everything there.

My life is a constant tightrope walk between the elite and the not elite.

I don’t want to get bogged down in descriptions of who I classify as the ‘not elite’ but if you’re reading this on a stolen iPad or while trying out a store model in Dixons, then it’s you.

And what of my day to day life – do I hang out with the man on the street (not to be interpreted as a rent boy)? Or do I keep to myself?

Well, actually, I can usually be found trawling the high street in search of bargains.

“Which shops, Rob?” I hear you cry, desperately wanting to follow in my trendsetting footsteps. Not the high street chains, that’s for sure.

Like a prostituting Julia Roberts I’ve never felt at ease in the chain shops, I can feel the staff’s eyes burning into the back of my head. Except on one occasion in B&Q where I’d just stepped back into a working patio heater.

I spend a lot of my shopping time frequenting those un-sung heroes of the high street – charity shops. Give me a British Heart Foundation over a Top Man any day.

I’ll be honest with you; I don’t buy my own personal clothes from charity shops; I’m not mad – a lot of those clothes have spent the night in a fluorescent bin bag on a shop doorway.

I may not be a fussy dresser but I know not to wear something that could easily be mistaken on bin day.

I frequent charity shops for two main reasons – cheap videos and clothes for characters.

When I say ‘videos’ I’m referring to VHS’s. For any young people; they are like audio cassettes but bigger and blacker.

For any young people who are still unsure; an audio cassette is like a VHS but smaller, see-through and used for listening to music.

There, who says I can’t talk to the kids? Well, as of last week; the judge and that restraining order he signed.

I love shopping for VHS. It transports me back to a different time; one where I used to by VHS a lot.

I, unlike many people I know, still own a video player and I can’t help but feel a little smug about it.

Did you buy Face/Off yesterday for 49p? Thought not.

Did you find a slightly worn, but still watch-able copy of Michael Flatley’s Lord of the Dance hidden under an old Top Gear annual? Don’t think so! Losers.

I could spend literally hours flicking through old VHS, or at least until Eileen locks up while she pops round the back to make a quick cuppa.

There are so many bargains to be had and especially when it comes to comedy.

The number of Jim Davidson and Roy Chubby Brown videos I have has reached epic proportions, but then I live in a big house and those doors won’t prop themselves open.

As for the clothes; I’m never in my element more than when I’m surrounded by role-neck jumpers, short sleeved shirts or women’s trouser suits.

I genuinely love trying to find the dullest piece of clothing possible, then it’s just a case of making sure it’s the right price.

I once held off buying a fawn-coloured canvas gilet because it was £3.99 – I’m not made of money and besides, I had The Complete Men Behaving Badly under my arm and that was five quid alone!

Nevertheless while the misguided hoi polloi flock to your H&Ms, your TK Maxxes and your Maplins, I’ll be found spooling the rack at the RSBP shop or the Christian Outreach store – you don’t need to believe in Jesus to know that 99p for a cat-themed chunky knit sweater is a miracle.

It’s a haven for the character comedian and the beauty of it is; there are so few people in there at any one time (unless you hit Oxfam on pension day) no one bats an eye when you nip to the changing cubicle to try on a maxi dress.

It’s up there with Poundland for reading glasses.

You could kit out an entire Edinburgh Fringe stage show for less than the cost of a Tesco meal deal (that’s if you went to the Fringe, which I wouldn’t recommend. Awful place).

If it wasn’t for the smell of damp yellow plastic then I would definitely consider kitting out my wardrobe with the stuff.

So there we have it; an insight into my life. Not quite OK magazine, but neither is it being ‘papped’ whilst taking the bins out.

It’s something closer to realising your neighbour has applied for planning permission – revealing but unspecific. I hope it helps you to realise I’m just like one of you.

But whatever you do; don’t come up to me in the street. I carry pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it.