I Am Not Allowed To Tell You Anything!

One of my favourite things I am asked to do as a stand up comedian is a ‘Coffee Chat’. Most of the cruise lines I work offer their version of this event but it all amounts to the the same thing. A thirty minute, or so, chat with the Cruise Director and a small crowd. 

I love them for a few different reasons. One of the first questions I am always asked is how I got started in comedy. This opens the door for me to talk about my Dad and often signifies the end of the interview because by the time I have finished telling everyone about Dad my time is up.

I am also shy, at least that is what Lyn tells me. I have an awful time accepting compliments from guests who have seen the show and an even harder time getting into conversations with those same people. A chat like these means they can ask me questions and somehow, in front of an audience, I am rarely shy or awkward.

These interviews also give me the chance to prove I am funny. I am not just standing up going through routines in a specific order. I am good at these chats because I am honest and not afraid to answer any questions. I prefer this event when the CD doesn’t ask me what I want to be asked. It’s then fun. I can just be me. I don’t want to do material though it can be handy to try out new bits I’m working on.

One question I am always asked, in some form or other, is:

‘What’s the best show you’ve had?’

I was asked this question at a Q&A only last night and once again I didn’t have a conclusive answer  but over coffee long after the chat I found myself thinking about previous shows….

I was opening for someone, I think The Temptations, but it could have been The Stylistics or even Smokey Robinson but this is now me bordering on showing off. What I do remember is turning up at the Fairfield Halls in Croydon one afternoon ready to go on at 7.30. As I signed in I saw a name I recognised: Ann. She was working that night in the Ashcroft Theatre next door where they had a play on that evening. After enquiring, I found out that it was the same Ann who used to stage manage productions at the Bob Hope Theatre where I acted in several plays as a teenager.

I found Ann and we had a lovely catch up backstage where she was stage managing An Inspector Calls. As I left I said,

“An Inspector Calls? That’s the one where the butler was guilty, right?”

“Nope.” Ann corrected me, “It ends revealing that Inspector wasn’t really an Inspector at all.”

Sorry if you’ve not seen or read this play already.

I now had a plan. I was performing right next door with only a wall separating the two shows and both audiences would be refreshing themselves within the same bar. Yep. I couldn’t help myself and I told my audience to wander around exclaiming their shock that the inspector wasn’t really an inspector at all which they gleefully did. 

I know, that wasn’t very cool. Funny? Yes. In my head at least.

A year or so later I found myself back at the same venue ready to open for…oh, I don’t know. I scoured the sign in sheet for Ann’s name but it wasn’t there and that night her deputy was running the show so I set off to find him. After an innocent chat I asked him what play was on that night.

“Dial M For Murder!” I was told.

“Oh, I know the one where the Inspector isn’t even an Inspector.”

“Nope. It’s the one where the – wait, who are you?”

“I am Paul Adams!”

“Ann told me not to tell you anything!”

Now that is a reaction I am proud off!

Soon after I was in 

Sainsbury’s with my little sister. We were mucking about. I seem to remember getting excited about the price of a crate of Diet Coke when someone turned to us.

“Excuse me. Aren’t you Paul Adams?”

“Yes, yes I am.” I replied.

“I saw you recently at the Fairfield Halls. You were very funny. Can I have an autograph?”

This had never happened to me before, or since but there I was signing my name onto a piece of paper for a complete stranger with my sister looking on proudly.

Left to ourselves we wandered the aisles once more until again I was stopped.

“Excuse me?” I was asked by an older lady.

I turned and replied, “Yes…” while reaching for my pen….

“Could you grab me that packet of penne from the top shelf?”

That was certainly a Classic Adams moment.