Wednesday, 3 December 2008

Quod erat demonstrandum...

Ah, Eddie Izzard. Or possibly: mmmmmm, Eddie Izzard. How I love that man. I have been following his progress from a distance for over ten years now, as he leaves the blue planet gasping and squirrel-infested in his wake. I have seen him acting live, in the excellent and harrowing 'Lenny', and now at last I have seen the live stand-up of his 'stripped' tour.

There are so many things that I love about him. There's the eyeliner, of course, but more importantly the fact that he is clearly a right-thinking human being, who cares about life, the universe and everything. The broad subject-matter for this tour is the entire history of the planet Earth, human civilisation, religion and the fact that in the probably absence of God we still ought all to be nice to one another. That's the underlying goodness. On top of that lies the howlingly hilarious and surreal Eddie-world. I always know something or someone is special when they seep right into my subconscious and alter my vocabulary. Eddie is right up there alongside Shakespeare and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, melting my cerebral cortex into new and exciting shapes.

It's hard to explain what he talked about without the voice and the gestures, but suffice to say that I now have a clear mental image and matching sound effects for jazz chickens, oppressed squirrels, kenny rogers (two people), foxes in foxgloves, ants in elephants' clothing and the ventriloquist's Yorick.

I will join the Eddie revolution and 'set fire to things' if Maggie Thatcher gets a state funeral. I understand that there is no deity, only Captain Random, and that you can't have a plague of frogs (it's just more frogs than usual). I know the difference between the familiar 'you' (Aren't you my father?) and the unfamiliar 'you' (Who the fuck are you?). I sense that badgers can be choosers, and that what hashassins with vacuum cleaners lack in guns they make up for in surprise. My mouth is filled with the recollected taste of cakemix and zoom lollies (the closest the UK has got to space).

To conclude, as God might have said if he existed: 'Here it is. It's blue, don't fuck it up.'

Das ist korrectamundo!

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