Graham Fellows
When Graham Fellows first appeared on stage it was quite a shock. Not because he is so different from his alter ego John Shuttleworth, but rather because he is so similar. Unlike Barry Humphries or Steve Coogan, who both present characters that are the antithesis of their creator, Fellows is not so very different, in voice or in mannerism, from the musical colossus that brought us Pigeons in Flight and I Can’t Go Back to Savoury Now. Counter-intuitively, it brings home that Shuttleworth is, whisper it, not actually real, and that’s quite a blow to the psyche. Later on, Fellows talked about the importance of audiences suspending disbelief when they come to one of his shows, but I think he gets this a little wrong. For suspension is not really required when, emotionally at least, Shuttleworth is not just a rounded, nuanced and hugely entertaining character, but effectively a real person with real fans. Peeking behind the curtain and finding out that it the Wizard of Oz is actually a frustrated singer/songwriter who has never been entirely content to give up all his best tunes in service to mockery was a disorientating experience.
Before we got to any of that, however, and as if to prove a point, Fellows took us through his early acting career, discussing the bit parts and student productions before his first brush with fame as Jilted John. Still cross with himself, after all these years, for being a one hit wonder, he nevertheless took great pleasure in encouraging a sing-along to Gordon is a Moron, and I’m guessing I wasn’t the only one in the room who was surprised just how many of the words I turned out to know. It was only one of the tunes Fellows played over the course of the evening, and proved to be untypically punkish. For the most part, his songs were brimming with melancholy and wistfulness. Reminiscent of John Otway when he is trying his hardest, fellows captured a peculiarly British sense of quiet discontent, albeit laced through with mordant wit. In between songs we got an engaging potted history of the trajectory that led to Shuttleworth, with John himself passing the occasional comment, albeit in the manner of a medium channelling his spirit. Fellows’s career progression, as he’s the first to admit, has been stilted and not hugely eventful, so it was always going to be a stretch to hang an entire evening’s entertainment on talking about it. This was more a discursive ramble than a polished routine, but fortunately he is such a personable bloke, that he somehow gets away with material that is, frankly, a little thin in places. That said, given that the show was tried out extensively at last year’s Edinburgh fringe, this still felt a little like a work in progress and I confess to being a little disappointed that it hadn’t developed more significantly since then. Time spent in his company is a pleasure, and he certainly capable of delivering a funny line, but the elephant in the room - his words not mine for Shuttleworth – was that this wasn’t nearly as funny or sharp as an evening with his greatest comic creation.
It is absolutely understandable that he wanted to stand on stage as himself, showcasing songs that really mean something to him, and there was considerable love and support in the room for him doing that, but it can’t be denied that the biggest cheer of the night came in support of the proposition that his next time at the Playhouse would be as Shuttleworth. Michael Pennington became so closely associated with a foul mouth, drunken man-child character he created to mask stage fright that he effectively ceased to exist, and is now all but indistinguishable from Johnny Vegas. Fellows is clearly determined that this won’t happen to him, notwithstanding the shrinking age gap between him and John, but it remains to be seen if he will ever truly reconcile the opportunities Shuttleworth has brought him with the limitations that the character imposes. On the evidence of this show, it’s something he still working his way through.
