CityLife

Sean Hughes: What I Meant To Say Was...

SUNDAYS seem to be a popular night of the week to put on comedy at The Lowry. It’s a grand way to round off the weekend but can make for a subdued crowd with one eye already fixed on work the next day and the shirt that’ll need a quick iron before bedtime.

So it can be a tough beginning for a comedian particularly when you decide to ditch the support and to do the first half yourself.

Despite a quiet-ish first few minutes Sean Hughes was never really going to do anything different; to not play the first half himself would be to miss out on valuable riffing time with the front row.

With the couple who got together later in their life forming one of those modern relationships with step kids, the soon to be divorced middle-agers and the 39-year-old wishing he was 25 again.

For any cheeky disparaging remarks Hughes may throw their way he’s come prepared with a tin of travel toffees to offer to them to sweeten the sharp words.

It’s this kind of audience interaction that Hughes prides himself on; no two shows will be the same unlike some comics – the ultra slick Michael McIntyre in particular comes in for some special stick here.

Though the scripted show may be the norm amongst most comics and indeed impress the first time around, it’s far more impressive to take in a couple of shows across the same tour by a more ad hoc act such as Hughes.

It’s the kind of skill that made the mark on the Perrier award judges back in 1990 when Hughes became the youngest ever winner at 24, though it's hard to digest that Hughes has been going for over 20 years.

The comic that often gets called ‘veteran’ by journos (though not in the sense of the word you might apply to his Granddad apparently) is feeling every one of his 43 years now (and probably a few more).

Deciding he’s two thirds of the way through his life (comedians die young even when they’ve given up smoking as Hughes has – perhaps it’s the vitriol) there’s a catalogue of new things he has to get used to – perpetually waking up early sparks a rant about there being no point of TV news at 6am, the cacophony of involuntary noises and sighs that accompany even the most mundane of his actions now and how sex these days provokes ruminations on what exactly he should do with those potatoes for his tea.

Sean Hughes plays The Dancehouse on Thursday, November 19. £12, £15. Call 0161 237 9753.

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