by Ian Edwards
Frankie tipped back in his chair and looked around. ‘There could easily be three hundred people in here later.’
Alan jumped off the stage, wincing slightly as he felt his left knee twinge. ‘I hope they’ve finished eating their dinner by the time I come on.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to be pelted with potatoes and fruit if they don’t like me.’
‘Sounds like the Royal Variety Performances in the seventies. Some of those minor royals were a right handful.’ Frankie laughed.
‘Something you want to tell me about?’ Alan said with a smirk.
Frankie leaned back in his chair. ‘I thought I was going down really well. I’d been in the middle of particularly good joke about Princess Margaret when - WHACK - a potato hit me right between the eyes. I looked around trying to see who threw it and another one hit me on the back of the head, sent me sprawling.’ Frankie paused for a moment and a smile crossed his face. ‘Anyway the audience loved it. Thought it was part of the routine, so I picked it up and threw it back roughly in the direction I thought it came from and that’s when it all kicked off.’
‘What happened?’
‘Well it turns out I’d thrown the potato into the royal box. Knocked one of the little princes over. Before I knew it the rest of the audience were throwing all kinds of things at me; coins, fruit, paper planes, anything they could lay their hands on. The manager had to come out and calm things down.’ Frankie grinned at the memory. ‘But do you know the best thing?’
Alan shook his head. ’Obviously not.’
‘I made seven pounds from all the loose change they threw at me.’
‘Oh right,’ Alan said. ‘Did you ever find out who threw the potatoes at you?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Frankie chuckled. ‘You’ll never guess who it was.’
‘Go on.’
‘It came out of the royal box.’
‘How did you know that?’ Alan asked.
‘It was obvious… the potatoes.’
‘What about them?’
‘They were King Edwards.’
Alan stared at Frankie. ‘Are you winding me up?’
‘What do you think?’ Frankie grinned.
‘I….’
‘Alan, there you are,’ Sarah called out from across the room.
Alan turned to face Sarah as she weaved her way past several tables towards the stage.
‘Looks like she’s brought the accountant with her,’ Frankie said.
‘Alan,’ Sarah repeated. ‘I’d like to introduce you to Fredrik Martens. He’s going to do the dubbing.’
A short man with fair hair, steel rimmed glasses and a garishly patterned jumper stepped forward with a smile. Alan thought the man did indeed look like an accountant.
‘Pleased to meet you, Alan,’ Fredrik said, offering his hand to Alan’. ‘I really do like your work.’
‘Definitely looks like an accountant,’ Frankie said.
‘Fredrik speaks seven languages,’ Sarah explained. ‘So the dubbing won’t be a problem.’
‘Nor will the end of year accounts,’ Frankie grinned.
‘Freddie, pleased to meet you.’ Alan shook his hand.
‘Fredrik,’ Fredrik replied firmly before adding, ‘OK, let me show you how this is going to work.’
Leading Alan and Sarah onto the stage, Fredrik knelt down, tore two long strips of duct tape off a large roll and made a cross on the stage.
‘Right Alan, this cross is your area. The lighting will be angled so it won’t hit you directly as long as you’re on the cross.’
Alan stood on the cross and looked out across the room. ‘So if I stand here, the crowd won’t be able to see I’m not saying what they’re hearing?’
Fredrik grinned. ‘The lights will be down and the audience will be more preoccupied with their dinner than you, so yes, you’ll be fine.’
‘Where will you be while Alan’s on stage?’ Sarah asked.
‘Round the back of the stage with a mic,’ Fredrik told her.
‘Just a thought, everyone we’ve met speaks English. Why do I need to be dubbed?’ Alan asked, not unreasonably.
‘People have only ever heard you dubbed in to Finnish. It would be too much of a shock to them if you did your routine in English.’
‘Is that OK with you?’ Sarah asked Alan.
Alan nodded. ‘Of course, what can possibly go wrong?’
*
Alan stood behind the red velvet curtains, loosening his limbs and rolling his head from side to side, preparing to enter the stage. The compere did not speak English so Alan had decided to walk out as soon as he heard his name.
‘Alan Rose…’ The compere said, gesturing with his outstretched hand for Alan to join him on stage.
Alan walked out to the front of the stage, smiled at the compere and took the mic from the stand which he placed to one side. He glanced down at the duct taped cross on the stage then looked out across the room.
‘Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I apologise if I’m not who you were expecting, but Pekka has been unexpectedly called away. You’ll find him appearing as Tinkerbell in Pantomime in the theatre up the road...’ Alan paused and waited…and waited. Suddenly the audience roared with laughter. Alan breathed a sigh of relief. The gap between his pause and the laughter was no more than a second but it had felt much longer. Content that the dubbing worked, he continued.
‘So who’s ready for Christmas?’ Alan threw his arms in the air, encouraging a reaction from the crowd. Fredrik’s voice bounced around the room moments after Alan spoke. A few hands were tentatively raised in response. Alan relaxed a little more, confident no one knew he was being dubbed.
‘My girlfriend says I’m a nightmare to buy for, but I don’t see it. I mean, I always tell her not to bother. I’ve got everything I need and my Amazon account gives me a list of things it thinks I should have. This year I’ve printed the list off and given it to her…’
The room erupted in laughter.
Alan frowned. This wasn’t where he expected a laugh. Momentarily flustered, he continued. ‘So it dawned on me that my relationship with my Amazon account is better than the one that I have with my girlfriend. It knows what I’ve bought, knows what I should buy, and is always recommending things to me that would actually be of use, rather than the socks and knitwear that I’m going to get.’
The silence felt like an eternity but eventually the audience began to laugh and clap.
‘The downside to this, though, is if I go and order anything from Argos, I feel like I’ve had a one night stand with her sister.’
Again Alan waited paused for laughter, however this time none was forthcoming. Silence. Perhaps, he thought, Lapland doesn’t have an Argos. Maybe it’s just thermal clothes shops and reindeer farriers. He smiled to himself and repeated the line aloud, expecting the odd chuckle. Nothing.
Alan decided it best to stick to the script and move on. However it soon became apparent that the gaps between his jokes and the laughter grew more erratic; sometimes there was laughter when he least expected it, at other times there was silence when he was expecting a reaction. While he was slightly concerned about the audience reaction, he decided it was all the fault of the poor dubbing from Fredrik.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ – more unexpected laughter - ‘You’ve been a great audience,’ more laughter. ‘Before I go I’ll just leave you with this thought…Remember a dog is not just for Christmas. With careful slicing it will last until well into the New Year. It’s an old Korean proverb.’ He counted three seconds before the audience erupted into laughter.
‘And on that note, good night and have a great Christmas.’ He saluted the audience and walked off stage to a standing ovation. He smiled at the compere, who was waiting behind the curtains. The noise from the crowd continued, many, it seemed were now banging on the tables. Alan looked at the compere, who smiled in response and gestured that he should go back to the stage.
Alan smiled at the com
pere and once again took to the stage. As he approached the cross on the floor, the audience rose from their seats and applauded him back.
‘You can’t get out that way,’ he grinned, pointing back the way he’d come. As he waited for the translation to kick in, he gave a quick thought to the encore. This was a completely new experience. He’d never been asked back for anything before. Unless you counted being told off at work. His mind rushed through possible scenarios, then thought of the internet clip he’d seen which seemed to go down well. He smiled and said;
‘So I’m standing at the top of the water slide…’
Chapter 8.
Alan exhaled deeply as he walked from the stage for the final time, the applause still ringing in his ears. He’d enjoyed pulling out the Fat Kid routine for his encore. Almost like playing a favourite album that he hadn’t listened to for ages. It was comforting and made him smile. He wandered along the corridor behind the stage and entered the bar, straight into a hug from Sarah.
‘That was brilliant,’ she grinned. ‘The audience loved you. Did you hear them?’
Alan unlocked himself from Sarah’s embrace. ‘I think it went OK. Bit of a weird gap between jokes and laughs, but that just reminded me of my early gigs.’ He looked around the busy bar. ‘Is Fredrik around? I want to thank him.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen him.’
‘OK. Let’s hang around for a bit, see if he turns up.’ Alan said, leaving Sarah to find a table while he went to the bar. He watched as she chose a corner table in a quiet corner of the room heavy with tinsel, fairy lights and baubles. He ordered two beers, strolled to the table and sat opposite Sarah.
‘It’s nice to see they’ve downplayed the decorations,’ Alan nodded at the explosion of colour surrounding their table. ‘It’s like they’re not even trying,’ he grinned and took a sip of his beer.
‘I was thinking. During the gig we should…What? What are you looking at?’
Alan nodded to the window behind Sarah. ‘I’m sorry but there’s a bloke cleaning the windows behind you. Only he’s not making a very good job of it. He’s not even touching the corners.’
Sarah turned to face the window just as the contents of a bucket were thrown over it and the water then vigorously wiped away.
‘They’re keen here aren’t they?’ Alan said. ‘It’s nearly…’ He looked at his watch, ’Ten o’clock.’
‘Anyway,’ Sarah said, attempting to revive the conversation. ‘I was thinking that we should…Oh for God’s sake Alan, what now?’ She glared at him
‘It’s that window cleaner. He’s tapping on the window.’
‘He probably wants you to fill his bucket,’ she said without turning round.
‘I’ll fill his bucket with this bloody awful beer if he likes.’ Alan leaned across the table and released the window catches and opened the window. ‘Yes, mate. Can I help you?’
The window cleaner placed his bucket on the window sill and leaned through the window. A festive Santa bobble hat was pulled down over his ears and a scarf obscured part of his face. Despite this, he seemed vaguely familiar to Alan.
‘Shhh,’ the Santa window cleaner said, putting a finger to his lips. ‘It’s me. Pekka,’ said Pekka, as he pulled the scarf away from his face.
‘What on earth are you playing at?’ Alan hissed.
‘I’m in disguise. I want to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. No one will recognise me.’ Pekka pointed to his hat.
‘Mate, you’re cleaning windows. You’re walking around with a bucket, a ladder and a…’ Alan looked at the cloth that Pekka was holding, ‘What’s that? It looks like a soggy toilet roll.’
‘That’s because it is a soggy toilet roll,’ Pekka admitted. ‘I took it from the toilets to make my disguise more convincing.’
‘And how exactly is that going to help you go unnoticed?’ Sarah asked.
Pekka smiled. ‘People are looking at the bucket and ladder. Not me.’ He reached through the window and snatched Alan’s bottle of beer, downing it in one. ‘Thanks, I needed that.’
Alan stared dumbfounded as Pekka handed him the empty bottle.
Pekka rested his chin on his hand and leaned on the window sill. ‘So, Sarah…do you have an answer to my proposal?’
‘I’m still giving it a lot of thought,’ she replied diplomatically. ‘I don’t want to rush such an important decision. But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’
Pekka nodded an acceptance then reached through the window again and swiped her drink. ‘Do you mind?’ He asked.
Sarah shook her head. ‘Be my guest. It’s not like you gave me much of a choice.’
‘If you’d like to get back on the missing list I can close the window,’ Alan said, standing up. ‘It’s freezing in here.’
‘I saw your routine,’ Pekka told him, placing Sarah’s empty bottle back on the table. ‘Very funny.’
‘Really? Thanks.’ Alan sat back down, the praise warming him more than any closed window.
‘Where were you?’ Sarah asked. ‘Still in disguise?’
Pekka chuckled. ‘Standing at the back.’ He slapped the bucket. ‘No one gives the cleaner a second look.’ He leaned through the window and beckoned Alan closer. ‘He’s very good, your voice over man.’ Pekka tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Very good,’ he repeated.
Alan wrinkled his nose. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘I saw him behind the stage with his mic,’ Pekka said and winked at Alan.
Alan looked at Sarah. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘What are you trying to say, Pekka?’ Sarah asked. ‘Stop playing games.’
Pekka let out a roar of laughter. ‘Oh Sarah,’ he said. ‘I’m not playing games. I’m just letting you know that it’s OK. I know what’s going on.’
‘What? What’s going on?’ Alan’s patience beginning to run out with Lapland’s most famous comic and master of disguise.
Sarah put her hand on Alan’s arm. ’How much do you know?’ She asked Pekka.
‘I could hear the voice over man and I could see Alan.’ He leaned in closer. ‘They are saying different things.’
‘Of course we’re saying different things you idiot, we’re speaking different languages,’ Alan pointed out, not unreasonably.
‘I know that. I’m not stupid,’ Pekka sighed. ‘Your man. He’s telling his own jokes, but he is not translating.’
‘We knew that,’ Sarah said hesitantly, glancing at Alan.
‘Oh. Right. In that case…’ Pekka paused. ‘He’s very funny, and you’re very funny too Alan.’ He grabbed his bucket and backed out of the window. ‘I’ll see you later. And remember. You haven’t seen me.’ Pekka tapped his nose and winked.
Alan and Sarah watched as Pekka vanished from sight.
‘What’s going on, Sarah, is this true?’ Alan asked as he closed the window.
Sarah shook her head. ‘I have no idea, but I thought I’d just agree with him to see what he was talking about.’
Alan slumped back into his chair. ‘This changes everything. So they weren’t laughing at me at all…’
‘Oh Alan, of course they were,’ Sarah said. ‘Just not at what you were saying,’ she added, trying to lift his spirits.
‘Come on let’s go back to the hotel,’ Alan said. ‘I want a drink and I’m not in the mood to have one with Fredrik right now.’
*
Alan leaned against the wall outside and waited for Sarah. She had told him she needed to sort a couple of things out with the manager, which Alan took to mean she needed the toilet but was too embarrassed to tell him.
‘What’s up with you?’ Frankie appeared at his side, causing the snow to blow around like a mini-blizzard. ‘You look like a wet weekend in Wigan.’
‘I’ve just been told I really am Old Man Ernie,’ Alan told him.
Frankie laughed at the memory of their friend’s ventriloquist dummy. ‘It could be worse.’
‘How?’
‘At least no one has their hand up your backside.’
*
On the way back to the hotel Alan became increasingly withdrawn and silent. He told Sarah that he had changed his mind and didn’t want a beer after all, instead he wanted to go straight to bed. And sulk. However, Sarah’s persistence wore him down and they eventually ended up sitting on a luxurious leather sofa in the hotel bar.
‘This isn’t bad is it?’ Alan grudgingly admitted, patting the overly padded arm. ‘A bit better than I’m used to down the Cloven Hoof.’
Sarah smiled. She had visited Alan’s local on a couple of occasions and always left thinking that she needed delousing. ‘Glad you came then?’
Alan nodded. ‘Yeah, thanks for talking me round. It’s not too bad is it?’ He repeated as he slouched down and started picking at the label on his bottle of beer.
Alongside them Frankie snored gently as he relaxed with his feet up on the coffee table.
‘What are you doing this Christmas?’ He asked. ‘Are you spending it with Giles?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘No. I’m spending it with my family; Mum, step-dad, brother and sister.’
‘I don’t blame you. Can you imagine a Christmas with Giles?’ Alan laughed. ‘I bet he gives DVDs of his gigs as gifts.’
‘Oh Alan, don’t be like that,’ Sarah said without any real sincerity. ‘Giles is a very generous man.’
‘I’ve heard that Giles is so mean that every Christmas he visits the ghost of Christmas past.’ Alan giggled at his own joke.
‘Did anyone say ghost?’ Frankie said suddenly waking up.
‘Those guys look a bit menacing,’ Sarah said, interrupting Alan from his teasing of her boyfriend.
Alan looked to where Sarah was not too subtly pointing. Two men had walked purposefully into the bar, looking around as though searching for someone. One of the men was short and squat with a shaven head, whilst the other tall and thin. Both wore dark suits under heavy black coats. Like everyone else in Lapland, they made a concession to Christmas by wearing Santa hats.
‘Bloody Hell, its Laurel and Hardy,’ Frankie piped up as the two men headed towards them.