Lucy Porter

I love Lucy. Carole loves Lucy.

We both have a lot of love of Lucy.

Lucy was the first comedian we saw as a couple and has been a staple part of our lives ever since. She’s practically one of the family. It’s always lovely to see her. And this show was no exception.

Especially because – even though she didn’t get the words quite right – I provided part of her “Welcome to the stage…” introduction for the evening, which was quite good fun and very nice of her to throw it in as well. It’s like when Robin Ince once replied to a tweet I sent him via his projector screen in the show, rather than on Twitter. It’s stuff like that that makes me love these people more.

Lucy’s show this year is about the change… early, I should say, in her case. And about how she’s become a mish mash of emotions – mainly anger – and has measured her remaining life span in Marks & Spencers skinny fit jeans, now discontinued. It sounds quite bleak, but really it’s not. It’s a celebration of life – of sorts and it’s genuinely funny. It’s also a little slap in the face as well as you’re sitting there watching and realising that you’re not actually much younger than Lucy is and that you, too, could measure your remaining life in M&S jeans. Although not skinny fit for me, who the hell am I kidding.

Lucy’s show comes with props – items retained from her mum’s house after her passing. Things that no-one wants but you also don’t want to throw away. Something, obviously, I can relate to as we still have ALL my dad’s stuff and ALL my gran’s stuff. Apart from the demonic doll. That has been removed and, hopefully, will never be back. In the case of Lucy’s late mother, it’s cat-shaped teapots and glass clowns. And if you’re having trouble making out the expressions on the faces of the glass clowns, don’t you worry. Lucy has had them photographed and blown up large enough to be seen by the whole audience. Which is both a treat and something that can never be unseen.

The stuff about her getting angry, beautifully signposted by the wafting of clothing to dissipate angry heat is funny every time. Even though you know that it’s coming. Even without the visual clue, you’d know it was coming.

But it’s still great. It always is.