Punk poet dandy John Cooper Clarke rocks onto the Globe stage in his trademark big hair and skinny drainpipes combo, dark shades obscuring half of his face. The room is packed. The crowd braying for the expected long set of laughs, biting wit, shambolic tales and ales. JCC certainly does not disappoint his rescheduled show audience, nor avid fan, me.
The legend that is JCC made his name as the support act for many seminal punk bands such as the Sex Pistols, Buzzcocks, The Fall, Joy Division, Elvis Costello and Siouxsie and the Banshees. Today three of his poems are even in the GCSE syllabus. Now in his sixties, the Lowry-meets-Burton performer is showing no signs of flagging.
A month ahead of his forthcoming spring tour he rolls through a superbly lengthy set of all the favourites including ‘Hire Car’ and many, many gags in his renowned Salford twang:
Hire-car, hire-car Why would anybody buy a car? Bang it, prang it, say ta ta It’s a hire car baby
We laugh and laugh and then have to say ta ta far too early, running to catch the last train to Swansea before the set is over. Gutted. (insert usual gripes about Saturday train scheduling here or quote some JCC lines: I wish ‘The fucking train is fucking late.’ Your choice!) But we don’t cry too much for JCC is back in Wales in April appearing at The Laugharne Weekend, as am I. Come along and see us both there.