“ROCK THE BOAT, DON’T ROCK THE BOAT BABY…”

Published by Rick on Tagged Uncategorized

1974, Hues Corporation, RCA Records. I’m reminded of boats as Steven Alan Green and I prepare to resume our Comedy Dish podcasts tonight on Facebook. Why I’m reminded of boats is how many comics we’re inviting onto the show that we knew back in the day that are now somewhat dependent on the work cruise ships offer. I used to look on that type of work with disdain and had little respect for the comics that did it, until I acquiesced and accepted the work between 2005 to 2008.

There were an equal number of good and bad experiences, including one where I cleared the room, then was somehow hired a year later on the same boat and got an encore in the exact same room. The gig I’m going to talk about was my biggest disaster, my Titanic of ship gigs, the one that pretty much signalled that my cruise ship career would be over soon. This hell gig happened roughly 15 years ago, as I remember “celebrating” my 57th birthday on the last night on the water.

It started off badly enough, with a rough overnight on the water causing most of the boat’s passengers to feel it the next morning. Fortunately, we had a whole day and a half before we had any shows scheduled. I managed to get some seasick pills from the onboard nurse but still had to “pray to the Porcelain God Ralph” later that afternoon. It gave me a good line to open with the following night, as I said, “Ahh, good to see us all sitting up instead of bending over today.” That would be the highlight of what would be my only show of the week, a week in which we were crossing the Atlantic after departing from Southampton.

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the other comedy act I was working with. She was English and very much a lounge entertainer, which turned out to be exactly what this crowd wanted. Though she was clearly gay, she shamelessly flirted with men in the audience, even rubbing her bosoms against some of their heads. I watched that and had a premonition, i.e. “They’re gonna HATE me.” I would be proven right.

I wasn’t going on right after her thank god, but it was clear I was out of my element. I told the DJ who would be bringing me up on stage to let the audience know that it was interactive, that I invited participation, and it was clear he didn’t get what I was telling him. He just kept repeating the word “interactive” to the point where it felt like even HE didn’t know what he was talking about. I went up to an unfocused room, got nothing with my first few proven greatest hits, and because I wasn’t allowed to swear, I couldn’t use my proven dying line, “Well what would YOU like me to do….BESIDES go fuck myself?”

Someone heckled with the old chestnut, “Can you play Far Far Away?” I launched into the line “Far far away,” leading into the chorus of the early 70’s hit “Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep,” which got a modicum of recognition, but was not going to save me at that point. Momentum was always a key to my most successful gigs, this one had none. I would move back into prepared material, but I might as well have been performing to Mount Rushmore. When I finally excused myself from the stage, the show manager came up and said the ominous words, “Rick, a word please.” I knew what was coming.

I was cancelled from any remaining shows (thankfully I only had one other scheduled), which meant, because we had five more days of sailing to do, I had to just remain on board (and bored) until the boat docked in the Caribbean and all the performers would be flown back to London. My days were spent most often in the ship’s library, where there was a big jigsaw puzzle I could amuse myself with. Certainly it was better than having to go to the food buffet and be told by well meaning tourists “I saw your performance the other night, and not sure I understood what it was you were doing.” I suppose there was some relief to hear of one comic friend of mine that I didn’t think was that controversial having such a disastrous set that a helicopter was dispatched to the middle of the ocean to take him off the ship for his own safety.

I also was ignored the rest of the week by the show manager, who would be walking in my direction, then do a 180° turn and pretend he was distracted by something. To compound things, I was expected to come onto the stage on the last night with the rest of the performers and take a bow. As I stood there, I hardly even looked up. To be fair, the performers, including the other comedienne, were mostly nice people who were sympathetic to my situation. There was a music duo who lived in London that even asked where they could see me again with a decent audience. I told them about my regular work at the Jongleurs club chain, and they took note of my upcoming dates, but I never saw them again. I mentioned Jongleurs to the comedienne, and she said, “Oh they’ll never have me,” and in my mind I said “Of course they wouldn’t.”

The flight back couldn’t have come soon enough. After that debacle, I did maybe two more. I had a surprisingly good one that cruised the Mediterranean and worked out very much in my favour. The act I was sharing the bill with developed a major toothache and had to get off the boat to go back to London, meaning I had to cover a whole evening as there was no replacement available on such short notice. I wound up having to do three 45 minute sets, and yet there were people who liked it so much they came to see all three! But that was the only jewel in the crown. My future was clearly not in this mode of entertainment, and my hat goes off to those that have figured it out. For me, that ship has sailed!

November 30th, 2022



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