This was JCC's third consecutive visit to Stoke's Wheatsheaf that I'd witnessed and in some ways it was a strange one. The first time he played it was upstairs, where there is no stage at all. It was a dingy, beer-stenched hovel with a piece of shredded carpet for a makeshift stage (the room's since been upgraded to a regular venue). JCC was well and truly off his face and was helped from the stage at the end. This time he was on form and didn't need anyone's help.
There's a strange kind of interaction between the man and his audience that I never seem to see at any other performance. I'm sure he must use the subtle references to 'Deliverance' (avec banjo playing and pig squeals) at other venues, but is it only the guys from Stoke-On-Trent who fire back with remembered dialogue from the film? The air was bouncing with references to 'Drop your god-damn britches!' and 'I'm gonna make you squeal like a pig, boy!' I don't know the answer. JCC was cracking up anyway, probably falling about at the irony of the Stoke lads being the only ones to know the true meaning of back-water inbreeding.
He grabbed that stage and clung on for two hours before I had to leave to relieve the babysitter, and in that time I bet we didn't hear more than eight poems. I Married A Monster from Outer Space went down well as did the legendary haiku. Twelve of us had been for a vicious curry round the corner from the venue beforehand and after two hours of laughing half of us faced a night of terminal indigestion. At one point he hit an extended run of improvisation that grew out of early eighties darts and snooker stars. He threw out the obvious ones, but the audience threw back funnier ones and he was off on a wild bout of slanderous wit. I have no idea how much longer he played although he did wish us a personal bon voyage as we left.
Russell Jones