John Dowie: A gig I'd prefer to forget
Published: Wednesday 6th April 2016
John Dowie started out in stand-up comedy in 1972, a career he'd have until the 1990s when, "with impeccable comedy timing", he packed it in just as "comedy was becoming big business and about to get even bigger." John has now written 'The Freewheeling John Dowie', a memoir about cycling and stand-up comedy. In this exclusive extract from the book, he talks about a gig that went wrong...
Following three years of performing solo, in 1975 I formed The Big Girl's Blouse, a "comedy rock band". I'd started writing little comedy songs and felt the need to flesh out these songs with a musical accompaniment. I also felt like having some company. After a while, of course, company turns to conflict, friendship turns to friction, and the band breaks up due to "irreconcilable musical differences", i.e. hating the sight of each other.
The act I performed with my band combined comedy lyrics with an ear-splitting din. The ear-splitting din was provided by the lead guitarist, who, like all lead guitarists, possessed an instrument with a volume control that only worked one way. And it wasn't down. At one particular sound check, despite the protestations of everybody within earshot, he told us that his guitar was "not too loud it just sounds too loud."
My band didn't last very long but during its short life played some of the popular venues of the time, such as Dingwalls, the Marquee, The Greyhound in Fulham and a poor benighted polytechnic somewhere in South London.
I'd been left alone before the gig. The rest of the band and our manager, John Mostyn, had gone off somewhere to eat. I don't eat. I drink. Wandering into the student bar I found there was some sort of deal going on with regard to shots of vodka. A Buy One Get One Free sort of deal. Soon I was downing quite a lot of vodka, laced with orange juice (a health drink) while expounding at length to a student I'd met about how professional a band we were, and how much time we spent rehearsing our shows in order to give the best performance possible.
Strangely, the more vodka and orange I drank, the more sober I seemed to become. This feeling stayed with me for the rest of the evening. Then I stepped onto the stage and into the glare of the lights and discovered that I was helplessly drunk. I can still recall the look on the face of the horrified student I'd been speaking to earlier, staring up at me from the audience, as the band played the backing to one song and I sang the tune of another. Meanwhile, I manfully struggled out of the layers of stage clothing I'd put on earlier. I knew that costume changes were due, I just didn't know when. I'd got down to my underwear when our aforementioned manager, John Mostyn, stepped on to the stage. "Hallo John," I said, in some surprise. "What are you doing here?" "I've just spoken to the Social Sec," said John. "If you keep your underpants on we'll still get paid."
I managed to keep my underpants on through the rest of the show and was still wearing them in the dressing room afterwards as I roamed around telling everybody within earshot how well the gig had gone. It was then I noticed the dressing rooms windows, which were curved. This meant, it seemed to me, that the windows were made of some kind of transparent rubber. I had never seen transparent rubber windows before. Neither had I seen a chair bounce off a transparent rubber window, so I decided to throw one at it to see what it looked like. I was genuinely surprised when the transparent rubber shattered, rather like glass, and the chair sailed through it, landing in the street below. I then felt rather cold. I finally began putting on some clothes as the Social Sec appeared with the cheque and, seemingly unaware of the howling gale coming through the broken window, paid us. Well, I had kept my underpants on.
'The Freewheeling John Dowie' is being published (and crowdfunded) by Unbound. To find out more and pledge to buy a copy visit Unbound.co.uk
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Love comedy? Find out moreJohn Dowie - The Freewheeling John Dowie
"My comedy career began in 1971, which proves I have no comic timing. In 1971 there were no comedy clubs, no comedy agents and not much comedy future."
Inspired by Spike Milligan, John Dowie embarked on his comedy career in a time when such a thing was virtually unheard of, and then, just as alternative comedy began to be recognised by popular culture, he quit. And so began his next obsession - riding his bike.
Having been blessed (or cursed) with an addictive personality, Dowie quickly realises that what was once a simple hobby - cycling - will soon become something very different...
This book follows a similar route to his cycling habits: it meanders from place to place, occasionally gets lost but is unfailingly entertaining. Wending his way through France and Holland, round the lanes of Norfolk and over the hills of Devon, Dowie expertly leads his readers on a delightful journey through the trials, tribulations and triumphs of his life so far.
First published: Thursday 5th April 2018
- Publisher: Unbound
- Pages: 240
- Catalogue: 9781783524808
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