I think I'll have to acknowledge gracefully that I am getting older. I can roar with laughter at Peter Kay (as I did while listening to him via my ipod all the way to Hamburg and back) and I used to find Jimmy Carr almost equally as funny. But we went to see him last night and although all the youngsters around us were drunkenly splitting their sides, the only reason I was forcing a smile was because we were on the second row and I felt sure I'd be singled out if I sat there with a straight face. Granted, I did find the odd bit amusing but so much was simply sick or downright blue that we might as well have been in a seedy workingman's club. We left at the interval - not just because we didn't find him terribly funny, but also because being so close to the stage gave me a crick in the neck and there was an icy blast blowing on the side of my face. I'll have to make a note to rule the front few rows out next time I book at the Southport Theatre.
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