IF YOU CAN’T STAND THE HEAT…

Published by Rick on Tagged Uncategorized

So summer came early to UK, and it’s lasted almost a week. Last Monday it was 94 F, Tuesday it was 95, tomorrow it’s supposed to be in the low 80s. Average temperature for this time of year in London is in the high 60s. If you still think climate change is a hoax, then you can f*** right off.

It was always amusing doing comedy in summertime, particularly in LA. I remember the summer was one of the few times I was happy that the Comedy Store and Laugh Factory had me go up late, after the air had cooled to tolerable levels. But two instances stick out in my mind, and neither of them were in LA.

In May of 1972, my partner and I spent Friday night and Saturday day in Stinson Beach, about 20 miles north of San Francisco, and we happened to be there on one of the few times where the sun was out the entire day, without the usual fog and clouds rolling in. It was unseasonably hot, and we paid no attention to the dangers of lying in the sun for about four hours. Finally, some good Samaritan said to us “You need to get out of the sun NOW!” We were pretty red, admittedly.

We had to do a show at our home venue, Tarr & Feathers Saloon on Union Street that night. We were moving slowly, but had no idea how much affected we would be. This night remains the only night we ever showed up for a gig and cancelled after hitting the stage. At that time, I would do about 20 minutes by myself before bringing Ruby on. I remember sleepwalking through the first 15 minutes or so, but in introducing the next song, I believe it was Joe Tex’s hit of the time “I Gotcha,” still one of my favourite songs of the 70s, I got wrapped up in spouting out some music trivia, and so completely lost my train of thought I began to ramble incoherently. The guitar suddenly felt as though it weighed 100 pounds, and as I looked at the crowd, all I saw was a big purple spot, no faces. It was then that the club bouncer said, “Take a break, Rick.” I took his advice, and as I sat down, I began sweating profusely. Ruby came to the stage and apologised for cancelling, again the only gig we ever failed to do. There were plenty of times a gig was cancelled on us, but I’ve gone over those stories many times.

Fast forward 31 years, and I’m working in UK. In August 2003, for the first time ever, the temperature broke 100 Fahrenheit in England, which it’s done several times since. On the evening of that historical day, I was working at Jongleurs in Camden, London, and by showtime, the temperature had cooled down to the high 80s. The club had strict regulations which prohibited them from opening the fire doors during the show, at least I think that was the problem. I remember that the fire doors were only open for the interval. But then there was all that time during the shows where the comics suffered the worst.

Jongleurs Camden was a large basement room that seated close to 300. When that many bodies were assembled in such a compact space on a hot day, it was torture for everyone, especially the performers. At least the audience could use their menus or bar napkins as fans, or just pour the ice from their drinks onto their faces. Meanwhile, the comics had to not only perform in a sweltering room, but also had stage lights shining a few extra watts on us. I was closing this particular show, and had several times where the sweat from my eyebrows kept flowing into my eyes to where I would be temporarily blinded. I’m not sure how I made it through, but I remember thinking on stage back to that moment in 1972. Thankfully, I remained upright, but probably lost a few pounds during the set.

So tomorrow is supposed to be the last day with temperatures in the 80s (or 25-30 Celsius, if anyone needs to calculate), with weather being more normal for the next week or so, and rain in the forecast. My heart goes out to anyone who had to perform last Monday or Tuesday. Given the way London’s weather usually goes, it would not be surprising if summer has already been and gone!

May 29th, 2026



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