Pat and Demi never had to put up with this shit
As a treat this week, my darling husband bought me tickets to see Ghost The Musical at the theatre. Bless him, not many blokes would have been happy to sit through a musical rendition of one of the ultimate chick flicks, let alone pay for the privilege. But he did. Either he secretly loves a good weepy theatre production or he was currying favour to stop me whinging every other sunday afternoon when the Grand Prix comes on. Whatever the reason, I wasn't complaining.
I was very excited. I love the theatre and I love this film, I knew this would be a treat. I wasn't wrong. The effects, the cast, the set, the adaptation from screen to stage were all utterly fantastic.
But no-one could have predicted the free, unexpected half-time entertainment.
As we took our seats, we quickly realised we were sitting in front of a pair of excited, slightly drunk Eastend 'ladies'. They were so excited in fact, that they forgot to actually watch the show and proceeded to talk, whoop and jeer non-stop through much of the first half. Mostly about how great it was. How they were able to review the show when they were jabbering through it, I'm not entirely sure.
As they reached a crescendo in volume towards the end of the first half, I started to lose my rag. It was like being in the audience of Jeremy Kyle.
So, like any normal human who has paid good money for a theatre performance, not listen to a pair of wailing pearly queens without the pearls, I turned around and said "shh".
Big mistake. I may as well have poked two tetchy pit bulls with a pointy poo-covered stick. In retaliation to my "shhh" one of the harridons squawed at full volume during a critcal scene, "DON'T YOU TELL ME TO SHUSH, YOU SHUSH, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU SHUSH" and repeated that inane sentence at least 4 times. Thus inducing a handful of other people to turn around and say "shhhh". This wasn't going to end well.
Luckily, we were just approaching the interval. As the curtain came down, we could hear one of the women chuntering to her sidekick "Who does she think she is? telling me to shush? she should shush, not me. Who does she think she is?"
The constant repetition indicated a solitary brain cell and limited vocabulary, making it obvious there'd be no reasoning, so we tried our best to ignore her. Which was difficult. Because then, inexplicably, one of them started listing what I was wearing.
"Who does she think she is? Look at her with her shoes, her skirt, her wedding ring that was probably £90, her husband, her job, her hair, her shoes...."
For a moment I thought her mate had blindfolded her and they were playing some sort of memory game. Like that one with the objects on a tray you played when you were a kid.
Hubby and I started laughing, (discreetly in case she walloped is with her pearly handbag) then seconds later I heard a theatre manager ask her politely to keep the noise down during the performance, because she'd had 5 complaints about the pair of them.
"We ain't doing nuffink 'cept enjoy the show! We ain't doing nuffin wrong!" they squealed. Like a pair of stuck pigs.
The manager then said that the theatre wouldn't tolerate this behaviour and asked them to step in to the foyer to discuss it further, because if they couldn't be quiet, they'd be asked to leave.
Oh dear. This was like pouring a can of petrol over a semi-lit barbecue. The pair of them exploded into an even louder tirade about how they had every right to be sitting there, enjoying the show at any volume they chose.
As this went on, people started coming back to their seats to watch the half time entertainment. We were all getting a lot more for our money than we'd banked on. The pearly queens gradually became louder and more unpleasant, until the manager uttered the immortal words, "If you don't come with me now, I will call the police."
But alas, a threat of police action was not going to work. They clung onto their seats refusing to move. Like a pair of gin-soaked limpits. With teeth. So the manager scuttled off and the pearly queens thought they'd won.
Their intellectual debate of how events were unfolding continued:
"How dare she!"
"Yeah how dare she! How dare they!"
"How dare they!"
It was hardly Question Time.
Hilariously, moments later, two policeman turned up to astonished gasps from the audience, asking Dumb and Dumber to escort them down to the foyer. Surely by now, they would realise they were in a bit of trouble and would quietly bugger off and let everyone enjoy the show?
But we all underestimated just how stupid these two were. They had all the intelligence of a tin of luncheon meat.
"No I will not move I have paid good money to sit here, I ain't movin'!", they screeched in unison at the rozzer, who sighed and said, "Madam, if you don't come with me now, I WILL call for backup."
Backup?? At this point, everyone in the theatre is watching the impromptu performance of "Two Drunk Chavs - The Musical", and got so carried away with it, they all start chanting 'OUT OUT OUT OUT' as the manager apologises over a tannoy about the delay in starting the second half of the show.
Seconds later, we were all gobsmacked when the promised backup unit did actually arrive. Five big coppers were actually marching down to her seat.
The biggest of these burly cops asked the 'ladies' nicely if they would quietly accompany him out of the theatre to discuss matters further. Their reply?
"No we have the law of the land on our side."
I don't know what this so-called Law of the Land is. To me it sounds like something out of a child's fairy story involving ogres and princesses and kingdoms. And clearly Burly Cop agreed cos he was having none of it and politely repeated his request.
Then it got really good. One of them phoned a friend. Within minutes it had gone from Jeremy Kyle to The Bill to Who wants to be a Millionaire.
"Gary, it's me, I'm with Sheila in the theatre and the police are here. They want to throw us out for being noisy, but they can't can they?? No I thought not. Fanks."
And she actually turned to the policeman and said, "See. I don't have to move."
Who was Gary?? Was he a judge? Was he the chief of police? Was he Simon Cowell? Was he God??? Sadly, dear reader, we will never know.
(And as if Burly Cop was suddenly going to say, "Ah shit yes! I totally forgot about Gary's law, whereby any loud mouth chav can just do exactly as they like, wherever they like. I do apologise luv, please carry on. Can I get you an icecream on my way out?")
Big Burly Cop lost his rag at this point, especially as the audience had resumed their chanting of "OUT OUT OUT".
The next thing we knew it was a case of "you grab her legs, I'll grab her arms" as all the policemen bundled in, grabbed a limb and physically carried her out of the theatre. All the while she was squealing "Put me daaahhhhnn! I'm gonna sue you!"
Someone in the audience shouted "Get yer Tazer out!" prompting a mass cheer from the entire theatre. And we all whooped and jeered a little bit more when, as the coppers hoisted her away, her ill-fitting shirt came loose of her ill-fitting jeans to set free her flabby white belly for the whole theatre to laugh at. It was the final indignity of the whole episode. And it was quite grotesque. But absolutely hilarious at the same time.
And her mate had no choice but to stumble after her. And she fell over while trying to negotiate the tricky staircase, which just topped events off neatly.
Finally, after a very long and very amusing interval, the show continued. It's lucky it was a good show, because after that performance it had rather a lot to live up to.
Even Kyle would have been horrified. I wonder if he knows who Gary is?
Note. I promise I haven't made a word of this up. I couldn't possibly.
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