From Jester To King XV

Well I’m playing to this audience in Ohio, and then basically without warning this guy throws a glass and it actually hits me. One of those heavy frosted beer glasses with a handle at the side and those patterned indentations all round it, you know the old-fashioned ones you get in almost every single sports bar or Irish bar in the States. And this happened to be one of those sports bars. And it hit me, right here [points to spot just above right temple by his receding hair line], you see it, you see there’s a small scar? Yes of course I was bleeding, I mean I could have been knocked out or had concussion or brain damage. I went apoplectic, dart off the stage, there’s a middle aisle and he’s on my left and I try to get to him and he’s just sitting there looking comatose, inert, and then a couple of audience members intervene at the last second and are trying to keep me away from him and stop me from absolutely killing him because they can see I am going to kill him, and he’s not moving, and then a couple of others right next to him are trying to stop the guy getting away so that he can get his comeuppance but he wasn’t going anywhere anyway, almost like they’re holding him to account on my behalf. I mean nothing gets you more enraged than being hit in the head completely out of the blue by a drunken cunt with a heavy heavy pint glass. Yes, he’d been heckling me throughout, just mumbling, but he was quiet at times and then would pipe up every so often, basically just mimicking what I was saying in this silly twee English ladies voice. [Does voice]. Annoying enough for you? I’d asked him if he could shut up more than a couple of times, and the rest of the audience were getting a bit fed up but also didn’t know what to make of it, but I knew he wasn’t going to shut up so I left it. Yes, in Ohio, Columbus Ohio. No not in the front row, near the back actually. About 50, I’d say. Now the funny thing was that Stuart was there filming because he came with me on that trip and he got the whole thing on camera and I can show if you want, I’ve got the file on my laptop. He happened to be sitting just behind the cunt, so you see me initially on stage doing my Michael Caine bit, you hear him, repeating I’m Michael Caine, every time I say it, which is a lot, you see me leering at the guy but then also trying to ignore him and carry on with my act, and then you see this glass being hurled, you see it actually hitting me, you see it falling then down onto the stage like a brick, and then you see me hurling myself towards the guy shouting, initially What the fuck is your problem, fucker? and then Get the fuck out of the club repeatedly, and I am literally foaming at the mouth, I can distinctly remember feeling the spittle on my lips. And Stuart has the self-possession to go to the back of the room with the camera to get the whole thing recorded including a fairly clear shot of me bolting up to this guy with this look of apoplectic fury on my face, sheer foaming rage.

And then the couple of people who I mentioned before are trying to break it up and come from the sides and sort of form a cordon sanitaire around this guy and the guy is pretending he’s happy to fight me, shouting Come on buddy although I can see how shit-scared he really is and I’m trying to jump on him and he can’t really go anywhere anyway because of this one enormous fat guy who’s making sure he doesn’t move and I get there and am trying to punch him but it’s more like my hands are bearing down vertically upon him because he’s still in a seated position with this fat guy restraining him and then the peace-keepers are in front of him, so that I can’t really make good contact. And eventually the peace-keepers manage to pull me away completely, and I calm down a little. Everyone asks me if I’m ok, someone hands me a handful of napkins and a glass of water (the glass I seriously think about throwing at the guy, but don’t) and then all I want is to start back up from where I left off, with the guy out of the room, so I go up to the promoter still in this rage, and I literally spit at him to get this fucker out of my set  and the promoter is just this little thin guy with a moustache and obviously he isn’t going to do anything and eventually Stuart plus fat guy and a couple of other audience members manage to pick the guy up, actually haul him up, one by the legs another couple at the top and then bundle him out of the stage door, he’s screaming, all whilst Stuart is holding his little handheld camera and the ridiculous thing is that the guy then starts going on about he’s paid his entry so they can’t throw him out because he’s entitled to be there. The only thing I remember is that he had red hair. 1996. I don’t really understand whether he had a problem with my act, whether he was drunk, whether he thought it was funny, whether he was mental, it’s just a bizarre thing that has never happened to me since and will probably never happen again. Yes people heckle sometimes but it’s never like that. I’m not violent at all but I suppose the fact that my father was twice combat veteran means that I’m never afraid of confrontation, so if someone starts with me I will give a full account of myself, believe me. Good point, it doesn’t hurt to be 1 metre 88 either.