John Shuttleworth’s Back
John Shuttleworth’s back is playing up. The problem, he explained, arose after Mary banished him to the garage, his keyboard playing having proved too disruptive, forcing him to perch on an ever diminishing stack of Sprite tins. It’s an evocative image, and the first of many conjured by Graham Fellows in the guise of his comic alter ego. More detailsfollowed, albeit falteringly, as John attempted to sing us through the perilous state of his eponymous back while (for contractual reasons that remain opaque) facing away from the Playhouse audience. Struggling to operate the pre-sets on his PPS keyboard Hendrix style, he thankfully soon abandonedthis self-imposed limitation, turned to face his adoring fans, and completed his lament with customary gusto.
We have waiting far too long for Shuttleworth’s return to the stage, and lest we missed his devilishly clever pun, he clarified the situation with the pedantry we’ve come to know and love. Although Fellows has been doing other things, not least performing completely out of character, in the parallel world the audience willingly stepped into, it’s because John’sagent, Ken Worthington, has been focusing on drop-in centre gigs, where petrol money, unfettered access to the tea urn, and a dedicated car parking space are guaranteed.
It’s the attention to this sort of minutiae that makes Shuttleworth both hilarious and strangely believable. There are other instances of character comedians being strongly associated with a single personality – Dame Edna and Partridge spring to mind – but Shuttleworth is peerless when it comes to his audience, emotionally if not intellectually, believing he exists, to the extent that saying something to the contrary makes me feel a tad disloyal. This is because the character is not only well rounded, but lovable. We want there to be a place for John Shuttleworth in the world, discussingthe relative merits of the cagoule and the micro fleece, mispronouncing Pilates, and fretting over the right way to open a Weetabix packet.
He’s a man keen to swap his teasingly mentioned Austin Ambassador Y reg with a Citroen Berlingo, as he outlined in the first of several new songs of the night. It demonstrated his undiminished ability to notice, and celebrate, the small pleasures of life. Who would, after all, argue with the delights of a kettle that allowed the water within to cast a shimmering blue light across a kitchen? But there was substance too, should you care to look for it. Peer through the fog of the Shuttleworth treatment (the best faux keyboard blunders since Les Dawson) and Rapidly Going Down Hill was not only funny, but oddly moving. As both Fellows and his audience grow closer to John’s age his songs are starting to emerge as quietly elegiac. He’s been singing She Lives in Hope and Dandelion & Burdock for years, but its only now, as dotage looms, that I notice how beautifully written these haunting tunes are.
Which is not to say there wasn’t room for lots of straightforward silliness. 500 Bus stops and How to Be Happy lightened an already giddy mood, while Eggs and Gammon was greatly enhanced by some unorthodox audience hand jiving. Air punching and phone waving followed, as the crowd joined John in a delirious celebration of nuttiness. Technical wizardly allowed us to listen in to phone calls from Ken, Mary and Joan, while that horrible Jazz music played in the interval was surely an impish concoction of Fellows. It all added up to a lovingly created, pitch perfect show.
There was, as I recall, only one misstep, which I mention only to create the illusion of objectivity in this otherwise gushing review. Having trotted out Save the Whale, John dipped his toe incongruously into the world of politics, comparing Greta Thunberg’s views unfavourably with those of Donald Trump. It was a joke and got a laugh, but would John say this? He’s daft, but he’s no fool. I’m not even sure there is room forDonald Trump in John’s halcyon world of pencil museums and Mellow Birds.
The unalloyed joy of John Shuttleworth makes me smile beatifically rather than guffaw, but my row of seats was rocking with the laughter of others, as he assailed us with ever greatly heights of absurdity. I doubt Ken will ever win that coveted spot supporting Brother Beyond or Judie Tzuke, and Luke Juby (keyboard player for Mike and the Mechanics) can probably rest easy. Nonetheless, it was fun to dream with him.Having closed the show with the long awaited Austin Ambassador Y reg, he quickly returned with a seemingly endless medley of his finest moments – Smells like White Spirit, How’s Your Nan, Two Margarines, M62, Can’t Go Back to Savoury. There was a palpable air of unease when heleft it at that, but we should have had more faith. The evening wouldn’t have been complete, and the audience wouldn’t have gone home, without a rousing rendition of that never-to-be Euro classic, Pigeon’s in Flight.
