The Bright Club

This was this odd thing I went to in London with Mr "Chocolate Socialist". It took place in a pub, featured people giving somewhat brainy talks about stuff, was compered by some comedian Johnny (whose name I don't remember, but I think he might be famous as I saw him on TV a few nights later), and it had some cockney geezer come on and force participation in a sing-a-long. I thought maybe the comedy-not comedy transition jarred a bit, but it was a conceptually interesting evening. The talks were about various London things – sewage disposal, bugs, Bloomsbury.

Oh, and there was also some guy reading a bit of his book, which was called Foxy-T. I took against him at the time, as the book was written in this patois that was oh-so-street, while the guy who had written the book was plainly not street. However, in retrospect I am a bit more fond of him. Maybe I will keep an eye out for his book.

I'm not so sure about Chubby Charley (or was it Cheeky Charley?), the cockney sing-a-long geezer. Although I am a cockerneee by birth, I was brought up away from Bow Bells, and being forced to take part in a "knees up" goes against my reserved nature. Or maybe I am just a curmudgeon who hates fun. These are not incompatible positions.

I wish I could remember the comedian's name, he seemed quite good. Maybe he was Mr Ince or something. He seemed like a pleasant enough person from his interaction with the audience, which seemed more like friendly badinage rather than a smartarse encouraging roffles at some unfortunate's expense. The great paradox of my life is that while I conceptually hate stand up comedy, I typically enjoy it when I encounter it.