The Worst thing Thats Ever Happened to You At A Show

You never ever EVER ask a woman if she's pregnant, or assume a woman is pregnant, no matter how confident you are, no matter if you can see the baby crowning. You ALWAYS wait for the information to be volunteered, because even if she does have a baby in her, you still run the risk of causing offence. Not worth it, AT ALL.

I went to see 'The Suicide'.

The play wasn't stopped after 5 minutes. In fact, it continued to the end.

For me my five likes have definitely been for wanting to intrigue mods

I'll never forget the time me and my mother went to see Cabaret in New York at Studio 54 (Alan Cumming and Michelle Williams - wonderful)

We were sat at the Kit Kat Klub cabaret style tables towards the front of the stalls. The seats on these tables were assigned, but not numbered. We were shown to our seats by an usher, and were joined by another young couple; a father and his grown up daughter. First half went up, no problem.

At the intermission (!) my mother and I went to the bar. We returned to discover that the other couple had moved into our seats and had even moved our coats and bags into their old seats. My mother politely asked them to move back to their original seats, to which the daughter replied that she couldn't see from those seats and wanted a better seat for the second act. Mum quite rightly told her that they were our seats that we had paid for.

It was at this point that the daughter stood up and screamed in my mother's face "HE'S A TONY VOTER!" My mother, never one to miss a trick shouts back "I COULDN'T GIVE A TOSS!"

The elderly gentleman and I exchange apologetic, yet knowing looks and a red-faced usher requested that they move back to their original seats. Cue much huffing from the daughter who insists to her father that he doesn't waste any of his votes on the show.

As the curtain came down she scurried off, while the old man turned to us and said "That was great - it's got my vote!"

Ain't so easy to intrigue me. 

My first night at a festival, I was mugged at knifepoint during my first LSD trip age 15.

Yes I'd forgotten how awful that was - time literally stood still (but not in a good way.)

I have only just seen this thread...

Years ago now, I was driving into London (those were the days when you could, and you could always park near to the theatre!) to see Joan Collins in Private Lives. I lived on a busyish road then, but this particular Saturday night the road was completely deserted. As we approached some traffic lights, a toddler of no more than about two suddenly ran across the road. From one side to the other. Just like that.

Thank God we’d had to stop for the lights. And thank God the road was quiet so the toddler was completely unharmed. I jumped out of the car and ran to it (I wasn't sure whether it was a little boy or a little girl) to stop it from running back the way it had come. And I waited. For someone to appear and to take it.

But no-one did. There wasn’t another soul in sight, not an open door of a house to reveal where it had appeared from, and not a mum or a dad with an empty pram. So we just waited with me holding on to this toddler. It wasn’t distressed. In fact I seem to remember it was quite happy.

But we were on our way to see Private Lives and time was getting on! Some other cars passed us by then I think but there were no people on the street to claim the baby.

I had absolutely no idea what to do with it and started going up to the houses on the side of the road where it had run from, but every door was closed. I felt sick, thinking that here I was holding a toddler in my arms (now chuckling) and if anyone did appear it might look like I was kidnapping it!

So I walked with it, trailed by my friend in the car we were driving in, to the police station (remember them?) about 400 yards away so I could hand it over.

And I explained that this baby had run across the road in front of us and that I had stopped it from running back into the road, but I simply didn’t know where it had appeared from. I can remember feeling sick, wondering if the policewoman would think that I’d been trying to take it and I’d had second thoughts. But she was really kind to me, sensing my distress, and she took all my details, including the exact location of where it had been found. And then she tried to take it from me, but it didn’t want to let go of me, and she commented, “I can see they like you!” Eventually I handed it over, feeling terrible, and we went to see the show. I couldn’t concentrate at all, wondering if the child had been reunited with its parents, or whether I was going to be arrested later that evening for child abduction...

After the show (crap, from memory) we returned to the police station to check on what had happened. And the new team on duty told me that they had no record whatsoever of a child being handed in. Yup, that’s right. No written record that they could find at that moment in time. “There’s no kid here now, sir...”

So I didn’t sleep that night.

About 10am the next morning, my doorbell rang, and I answered the door to find a man standing there with a pushchair. And in the pushchair was a little someone I recognised! Gurgling. Dad thanked me profusely for saving his child’s life, and begged me not to tell his wife (out at work at the time he was supposed to be supervising the child) that he hadn’t noticed the baby run out of the side door of the house. It must have run along the side path, down the front garden and across the road.

I never did see the man or the baby ever again, even though they lived only a few minutes from where I lived. And I never did find out whether it was a boy or a girl. (They’ll be about 30 now!)

I dread to think of all the ramifications of a similar incident now...

But @caiaphas has already told us that the child will now be about 30, not almost 60! 

A matinee of the Monkees jukebox musical "Monkee Business" at the Opera House in Manchester. The theatre unfortunately wasn't destroyed by a giant flaming asteroid before the curtain went up, so I had to watch the whole thing.

Oh, the horror. The horror.

The usual going to Joseph at the Churchill got a puncture in the car expensive and 2 parking tickets recentley at Fat Friends at Churchill and Follies at the National.

Now an embarrassing one for this poster.

I was at the Royal Court in Liverpool whilst in was doing modernisation. You had to walk an age to get to the toilets via a convoluted route, where we came across the ladies, then right next door to that obviously was another ladies, so all the men piled into the second ladies, couple of minutes later the duty manager came along and cleared the men out, but not all men i.e. me sitting on the throne in a cubicle, slowly and surely the re-designated site filled up with ladies, some interesting conversation was overheard, anyway I had to exit through all these local ladies laughing at me felt proper humiliated, obviously I needed to wash my hands, which I did, but still had a red face 👹👹👹.

Didn’t hang about to dry my hands.