I received an email from a bloke saying he'd heard about me on the radio. Every week he runs a disco for people with special needs and he was trying to diversify the evening. After hearing about yours truly, he thought some entertainment from me might be the very thing that he and his punters were looking for. I have to confess I did have reservations about whether my material would be quite what they were after, but I decided to swallow my prejudices and give the thing a go. I arrived to find a function room with about 200 people, many of whose needs were significantly more special than I'd anticipated; but the promoter seemed confident, so I was happy to put my trust in him.
In the final moments before I went on stage, our conversation went as follows:
HIM: Have you got everything you need?
ME: Yes
HIM: Would you like a drink?
ME: Oh yes please, thank you very much
HIM: Are you happy with the microphone and lights and everything?
ME: Oh yes, they're perfect
HIM: Would you like a box to put your puppet on?
When the radio said poetry, he'd heard puppetry. It's an easy mistake to make, but he then tried to blag that he'd known I was a performance poet all along, which obliged me to go through with the gig. I adapted my set as best I could, but died on my arse in a way that I can't describe without being very wrong, and that's not the point of the story on this occasion. Suffice to say it was as bad as you could imagine it to be. Probably worse. I have since woke up in the middle of the night whimpering and gibbering in a way not dissimilar to several audience members during my performance.
On the upside, I hung around afterwards and I was one of the best dancers there. I had a bit of chuckle with the promoter and we've kept in touch - he sends me jokes via email and I've made a new friend; which goes to show if you're good on your word and don't let people down, respect will come your way from all sorts of quarters.
It also crossed my mind that this is the only place in the whole of Leicestershire where an adult with any kind of learning difficulty can go and socialise, behave stupidly and get happily shitfaced just like the rest of us, without getting shit from half the dickheads in town; and without this guy running the disco out of the goodness of his heart (because his son has special needs), there simply wouldn't be anywhere. The atmosphere was as decent as any club I've been in, and I can genuinely say there was no pose. If I get asked back though, I'll bring puppets.
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