Alan has now refused to ever leave his house again, but he spoke to us via phone.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “I’ve practised these impressions over and over for years. I’m a master of all of them. How could they not like my Al Pacino? ‘Every TIME I think I’m OUT, they PULL me back IN!’ Or my Christopher Walken? ‘You… see… there WAs… thIS mouse… it chuRNed the butter… ‘.”
“It was terrible,” said Jane, one of the audience members:”None of the impressions sounded like the real person. They just sounded like really bad impressions of other people’s impressions. It was as if he had no idea what he sounded like outside of his own head.”
We passed on Jane’s comments, but Alan refused to accept the criticism.
“Nonsense! What about my Shatner? ‘Set! Phasers! To! Stun! Sulu!’ My Mavis from Coronation Street has my mother in stitches. ‘Ooh, I don’t reeeally know!!”
Who’s Mavis? we asked Alan.
“What do you mean, who’s Mavis? That’s like not knowing who Les Dennis is. Ok. How about Frank Spencer? … You have to know Frank Spencer! ‘Ooh, Betty!'”
“You want more up to date? Here’s Russel Crowe in Gladiator: ‘Mah name es Maxeemus Deridius (I can’t remember the character’s actual name), firther to a moidered son, husband to a moide-“
At this point we had to stop Alan on behalf of the Australian people.
John, the owner of the comedy club in question, Funny Bunnies, told us:
“This happens all the time. These people spend all their time practising their impressions alone without getting any feedback. They don’t bother recording themselves or listening back. By the time they get here, most of the people they’re doing impressions of are either dead or out of the public eye. They get up and its terrible. There’s a local group of students who come here just to watch them bomb.”
Tomorrow night is the next open mic night. Would-be impressionist Hannah is the first up, and we have it on good authority that she does a great Audrey Hepburn.
John is anticipating a lot of students.