Daniel Kitson

“It’s a monologue, an oral form of literature. You’ll love it.” Comedy Boy assured me as we crossed the Humberside Bridge. We were on our way to watch Daniel Kitson’s live show at the New Players Theatre in Charing Cross. Up until this point Comedy Boy had been unusually vague about what he was taking me to see. He muttered something about, "comedian", "story telling" and "monologue". Worse still Comedy Boy said “Kitson is the comedian’s comedian”. Alarm bells started ringing straight away. Most unknown comedians I’ve met dislike other mainstream, some might say, talented comedians.

I should mention that I nicknamed my husband Comedy Boy because he has performed stand up on the London comedy circuit. Being the dutiful wife I’ve sat through a plethora of comedy shows, some of which were brilliant, others were so bad I wanted to pull my ears out and throw them at the stage.

I was, then, slightly nervous at another night of missing wit, silent audiences and lost hours. At the theatre my nervousness became full on hysteria when I saw the poster and noted that the entire show was a monologue about a flat that Kitson once lived in. The title being ‘66A Church Road: A Lament, Made of Memories and Kept in Suitcases’. A show about one man’s love for his flat? What a load of rubbish, I ranted silently while smiling at Comedy Boy and snatching the bag of sweets from his hands.

We sat in the darkened theatre with the set visible in the dim light: suitcases of varying size littered the stage, there was a sash window to one side and a solitary chair in the centre. The set looked promising and my mood lightened a little when Kitson appeared and began telling the story of his love for his flat. The stage would darken intermittently and another suitcase would light up as a voiceover of Kitson would embellish upon a point he had just made using the metaphor of a relationship with a woman. Or was the flat the metaphor? I’m still not sure. The lit suitcases would show models of each room in his beloved flat. The dark stage, lit suitcases, melancholic music and voiceover all contributed to the nostalgia of the piece. As for Kitson he was eloquent, witty, humble and incredibly likeable. The narrative arched, progressively building tension throughout, holding the audience who wondered ‘would he get the flat of his dreams? Suffice to say I ate some humble pie on the way home as I told Comedy Boy how much I enjoyed it. He refrained from saying “I told you so” however asked that I keep that night in mind when next time he makes me sit through a 92 year old's magic set or the comical musings of a Croydon cannibal.