Billy Connolly set to receive Freedom of Glasgow award Known affectionately as "The Big Yin", Connolly's career in comedy, films and TV, spans more than 30 years.
Scots comedian Billy Connolly is to receive the Freedom of the City of Glasgow later. Connolly, who is one of the city's most famous sons, will receive the honour at the city chambers on Friday night.
Lord Provost Bob Winter led calls for the city to recognise the performer for his contribution to comedy, film, music and his charity work. Mr Winter said: "Billy Connolly is arguably the world's best-known Glaswegian and is truly deserving of the Freedom of the City. He has presented himself as a proud citizen of the City of Glasgow. In doing so he has shown the world the unique humour, generosity and resilience of Glaswegians."
'Eminent service'
Congratulatory messages from past recipients including Nelson Mandela, Sir Alex Ferguson and Kenny Dalglish will be read out at the ceremony. Broadcaster Sir Michael Parkinson has also sent his best wishes to Connolly. The comedian's appearances on the presenter's prime time chat show in the 1970s sent his popularity soaring.
The Freedom of the City is an honour which can be given to "persons of distinction or persons who have rendered eminent service to the city".
Connolly isn't amused at nostalgia reference
Chris Jones
Chicago Tribune
9/10/2010
If you want to annoy the Big Yin, just accuse him of peddling comic nostalgia. "Nostalgia?" Billy Connolly sputtered down the telephone line the other day, when indecorously asked if a 67-year-old man whose comedic career goes back more than 40 years, and who has been a major celebrity in the United Kingdom for at least 30 of 'em, now offers what one might call a retro experience. Is he not a feisty tartan oasis, as it were, in the midst of kids with mics who weren't even born when Connolly first performed his parody of Tammy Wynette's D-I-V-O- R-C-E on the BBC's Top of the Pops in 1975? "Yer think I'm Andy Stewart?" Connolly went on, warming to his task. "That's all journalese and yer know it."
In the U.K., Connolly is known as an oversized standup comedian, folk singer and all-around raconteur and TV personality. In the U.S. (where Connolly has lived, unbeknown to most Britons, since coming to Los Angeles to star in the sitcom The Head of the Class in 1986), he is still known primarily as a movie actor. "Half the population here doesn't even know I'm a comedian," he said, calming down a little (but just a little). "I still have to establish myself. I just go to a place and refuse to go away until people come to the theatre."
Eddie Izzard, who has said he counts Connolly among his influences, now plays arenas. Connolly is attempting something different. Something sort of in reverse. He's not doing a one-nighter downtown (even though he played the old Chicago Stadium back in the day) but an entire week of shows at the Royal George Theatre, which seats only 447. Opening night was Tuesday.
His producer, Arnold Engelman of Westbeth Entertainment, says it's all part of a deliberate strategy wherein Connolly plants himself in a city for a while, hangs around and lets people notice that he's there. And then if they come to his show, they get an intimate experience and the kind of night the performer actually enjoys. It has worked for Connolly in Boston and is now being tried in Chicago. One suspects Broadway might be next.
And what's in store for this experience? Connolly is, unlike most of those other standups, almost entirely an improviser. "I talk about anything and everything," he said. "Religion. Politics. The news of the day. I go on intending to talk about something, and then usually I don't. I can never remember anything. I usually look at the tapes from my last show, let them rumble around in my head, and then I go out and do something completely different."
There is no music in the show though, despite Connolly's deep roots in folk and musical parody. "You have to have this banjo sitting next to you," he said. "It's like having a big, red tomato. And people stare at the tomato all night. That doesn't work."
Billy Connolly pokes fun at Pixar Animated powerhouse Pixar made headlines last week for naming its first female director, but Scottish comedian Billy Connolly poked a bit of fun at the milestone in an interview Tuesday.
Nick Patch
Sep 28 2010
Toronto Star
The 67-year-old will lend his voice talents to Brave, a film about a princess who defies her parents by pursuing an interest in archery. The film — Pixar’s 13th — will be written and directed by Brenda Chapman. But Connolly admitted that he wasn’t really aware of the landmark.
“It didn’t dawn on me for ages, because animated directors have always made me laugh,” the affable Connolly said during an interview Tuesday at a swanky Toronto hotel bar. “The first one I did was (1995’s) Pocahontas, and I said: ‘How do you direct an animated movie?’ Do you say to Donald Duck, ‘Right. Here’s what I want.’ How do you direct Donald Duck? Who exactly do you direct? Do you direct the artist? Do you direct the sound guy? Who gets directed first? So it didn’t become a matter of male or female to me. I just found (animation) directors absurd and immensely likable.”
Connolly, who will kick off an 11-city Canadian stand-up tour Nov. 2 in Hamilton, is becoming a voice-acting veteran. In addition to Pocahontas, he loaned his talents to the 2006 smash Open Season and its straight-to-video sequel as well as a few other smaller projects. “(Animation people) are wonderful people,” Connolly said. “They truly are artistically driven. . . They never say, ‘I always wanted to direct.’ They’ve always arrived at it from some weird angle within the field.”
While Connolly didn’t realize that Chapman was Pixar’s first female director, he says they get along well. “She’s a lovely woman and she buys me cigars,” he said. And he’s optimistic that the film, due out in 2012, will live up to the lofty standards created by Pixar’s roster of critically acclaimed box-office smashes, which includes Toy Story 3, Up, and Wall-E. “It’s good fun, the rehearsals have been really funny,” he said. “Sometimes you worry that it might not come up the lens, but if they’re animated, it’s not going to come up the lens — there is no lens. ...
Pamela and Billy: a private affair
Caroline Wilson
17 Oct 2010
heraldscotland.com
She has been described as a “firecracker” by Strictly Come Dancing judge Craig Revel Horwood for her enthusiastic performances on the hit BBC TV show. Now the flamboyant comedian turned sex therapist Pamela Stephenson has shed some light on her apparently unconventional marriage to Scots comedian Billy Connolly.
While refusing to confirm or deny any affairs, the 60-year-old hinted in an interview that their 21-year marriage had not been completely monogamous while revealing: “I’ve never felt threatened by anybody else in any serious way.” With five children between them, the former Not the Nine O’Clock News star said she had grown accustomed to spending months apart from her 67-year-old Glasgow-born husband, often on separate continents. She admitted the lengthy separations had made her feel insecure at times but said their relationship had probably “saved his life” because of an early battle with alcohol.
The mother-of-three said taking part in Strictly Come Dancing in the arms of 32-year-old James Jordan had made her feel “sexy” and had kept her husband “on his toes.” She said: “There have been times when I haven’t been feeling very good about myself and I’ve noticed publicly he’s had a lot of attention from somebody who’s quite pretty – and I’ve got pretty shirty about that. Billy is an attractive man and there are people who will be flirtatious with him.”
The Australian clinical psychologist, whose first husband was the actor Nicholas Ball, always tells her patients to outline a ‘contract’ with their partner. She said: “Billy and I know who we are to each other. We know we spend a lot of time apart. The contract Billy and I have is private to us. What I will say is I completely trust and appreciate who he is as a human being. I have never felt threatened by anyone else in a serious way.”
When asked if monogamy is part of the deal, she could not confirm or deny if it was. But she said taking part in Strictly had given her a new lease of life and had helped spice up her relationship with Connolly – who is currently performing stand-up in Chicago – and had brought out his “possessive” side. She said: “He’s said a couple of things to me about James, like: “You’re dancing very close to somebody else who’s nearly half your age. It gives you an extra bit of power in your relationship. Just because you’re married, it doesn’t mean you don’t notice other people. I’m not going to pretend I’ve never looked at someone else and thought: “Wow, you’re gorgeous.”
The Connollys met on Not The Nine O’Clock News and began living together in 1981, marrying eight years later on Fiji. After Not the Nine O’Clock news she featured in the American comedy sketch show Saturday Night Live and Superman III before effectively quitting showbusiness for academia. Her biography of her husband, which was titled Billy, was a bestseller and won the 2002 British Book of the Year award.
Life and times
Pamela Stephenson was born on December 4, 1949, in Takapuna, Auckland, New Zealand. After attending the University of New South Wales and then Australia’s National Institute of Dramatic Art, Stephenson pursued a successful acting career in Australia before moving to London in 1976.
She is best known in the UK for her role in the 1980s comedy sketch show Not The Nine O’Clock News, where she first met Billy Connolly.
The couple were married on December 20, 1989, after having three children, Daisy, 26, Amy, 24, and Scarlett, 22.
Stephenson gained a doctorate in clinical psychology in 1996 and has written several books. She works in private practice and presented a show on British television called Shrink Rap.
Billy Connolly has fond memories of Canada dating back to the 1970s
Nick Patch,
The Canadian Press
27/10/2010
TORONTO - Billy Connolly still has fond memories of the emphatic embrace he first received from Canadian audiences nearly 40 years ago. It was the early 1970s and the Glasgow comic had just endured a nightmarish seven-week stint performing at a Boston bar, the Harp & Bard, the logo for which was a harp with Robert Burns' head on top ("I should've known better when I saw a beheaded Scotsman," Connolly laments).
He remembers doing material he hated to a hostile crowd. And then he headed north. "I left and came straight to Toronto to McVeigh's, the Irish bar down in Cabbagetown," Connolly said during a recent interview. "I was instantly successful. And I'll never forget it, the relief of: 'Yeah, I'm good. It was a fluke. It was them. It was their fault. It isn't you. It's stayed with me. The relief of that and the joy of it and the welcome I got there, has stayed with me. And it's never gone away."
The 67-year-old will launch an 11-city Canadian tour on Tuesday in Hamilton. It will wrap Nov. 26 with the second of two shows in Vancouver. He'll hardly be venturing into new territory. He explored every corner of Canada for his 2008 travelogue "Journey to the Edge of the World," which was released on DVD and as a book. The trip saw Connolly begin along the East Coast before traversing the Northwest Passage and ending along the coast of B.C.
The trip would also have been an obvious place to mine jokes for the upcoming tour. So, of course, Connolly wasn't interested. "I tend not to think that way," he says over tea at a Toronto cafe. "I don't say: 'Ooh, I must write that down and use it on stage.' ... For years and years, I've taken notes I've never used. I have books of notes that I've never, ever used. Sometimes they come in handy for like a talk show, a little anecdote maybe, but they never, ever make it to the stage. It's a different kind of humour. The things that I think when I'm out on the street are different from the things I think when I'm onstage. They're a different animal. So I don't think along those lines."
Trying to steer a conversation with the animated, excitable Connolly in any particular direction feels a bit like trying to keep a group of young children in an orderly line as they visit an amusement park. Even when he tries to focus on a specific question, the friendly Scot allows his attention to wander down whichever rabbit holes he comes across.
During a roughly 30-minute discussion, he rages against the wasteful spending of the Scottish government, the disdainful attitude of non-smokers and the newfound rigidity of late-night talk-show interviews. Even the term "common sense" sets him off on an entertaining mini-rant.
"I hate common sense and I hate people who claim to have it," he said. "It's as if there's a big pool of it just outside the village and they've got a ladle, they can help themselves to this wisdom. It's usually insincere BS and selfish, you know?"
He also finds fertile comic soil when discussing the three daughters he has with wife Pamela Stephenson. The family lives in New York, which Connolly finds prohibitively expensive. "Iam sort of a walking ATM machine, and I'm operated by sound," he said. "There are two kinds of 'dads' in the world," he adds, before mimicking his daughters' voices. "One is 'DAD,' and that's: 'Have you seen my socks?' or 'have you borrowed my pen?' or 'did you move that CD?' The other one is 'Daaaaad,' and that's the money one. That's the worst. That's followed by $20 bills mysteriously appearing from a slit in my rib cage."
Of course, spontaneity is an essential ingredient in Connolly's comedy. Onstage, his rambling stories seem to get funnier as they grow more disjointed, unpredictable and meandering. He says his best onstage moments are unplanned, but he can't leave everything up to chance, so he has some material prepared in case things aren't going well on a particular night.
And he's made a habit of miking the audience, so he can feed off their reaction. "I don't know what it is I get from them but I know that when I'm not getting it, I feel like I'm dying," he said.
Yet he says he doesn't always have to be funny for a successful show. "Sometimes it's good to see a guy not being dull, but not being funny all the time like a loony, like a clown, like a jack in the box and you press a button and he hops up and gives you a funny," said Connolly, who has a role in the upcoming 3D family film "Gulliver's Travels."
"Sometimes it's good to hear a guy just being interesting, or being sad and sorry about something, or angry about something. Just being himself. Because generally, it's quite an interesting guy who tours the world, he's an adult, he's in show business for a living, he'll have something. It might not be a thigh-slapper, but it might make you think for the rest of your life."
Connolly is among a small club of comics who can lay claim to a successful comedy career spanning more than four decades. He traces the root of his success back to his childhood.
"I was lucky because I was a kind of funny schoolboy, and then I was a funny boy scout, and a funny apprentice, and a funny welder," he said. "Because I was surrounded by funny people, I was very, very lucky. And then I became a funny comedian. But so many guys leave school and become a comedian and they go to clubs and they (do) photo-op comedy. It's sound bite comedy. You're given eight minutes. You know, it takes me eight minutes just to get to the microphone. You can't do an awful lot with eight minutes. So they write for eight minutes, and it does them for a long time, and then they write another eight.
"And so, you can tell what's coming and so it becomes old-fashioned. Whereas you can't tell what's coming with me because I don't know. And if I don't know, you don't know. You know?"
Billy Connolly: How I was almost Doctor Who
Stuart MacDonald
5 November 2010
scotsman.com
BILLY Connolly has revealed he was devastated when he lost out on playing Doctor Who. The Scots comedian has confirmed rumours that he was considered by producers to play the Time Lord in a 1996 television movie, a role that eventually went to Paul McGann.
The Big Yin said he was a huge fan of the show and would have loved to portray the time-travelling Doctor. He said in an interview: "It was brought up in a meeting, apparently, but nobody told me until after they decided against it. If I had done it, he would have been angrier, a much angrier Doctor Who. I would have loved it. I'd have taken it."
The world's top Doctor Who historian, Alex Westthorp, revealed earlier this year that the BBC had Connolly on its shortlist. He said: "Billy was seriously considered for the eighth Doctor. Everyone was talking about him as a serious actor. "I think he would have brought his own sense of comedy to the character, and would have made an incredibly special Doctor. Connolly could easily have made that role his own and taken it to another level."
The Scottish comedian has forged a reputation as a serious straight actor, in particular for playing ghillie John Brown opposite Dame Judi Dench in the film Mrs Brown. The Doctor role has been held by fellow Scots Sylvester McCoy and David Tennant. Fulton Mackay almost became the fourth Doctor a year before he made his name as prison officer Mr Mackay in Porridge.
Connolly, who is on tour in Canada, also said he was not bothered about recently being dumped as the face of Australian bank ING for a talking orangutan. He said: "It's hard to get your heart and soul into pensions. But it's good to do it, and it's good to do it well because it's acting. And when you're acting, you have to say things you disapprove of, but you take pride in doing it well. I think comics make rulebooks for themselves that they don't really need. If you start saying, 'I'm a rebel', are you going to turn down a movie where you play a nice guy?
"Image is bullshit. When you start making decisions based on your image, you're in deep shit."
Billy Connolly keeps the wheelchair at bay On the cusp of 68, the Scottish comic finds something new to laugh about every night
BILL BROWNSTEIN,
The Montreal Gazette,
November 6, 2010
Billy Connolly has a way with labelling his tours. His last one, which hit Montreal three years ago, was called the Too Old to Die Young tour. The current one, which comes to Place des Arts on Tuesday, is called The Man Live. Connolly is not just wisecracking here with references to his age and state of consciousness. Scotland's gift to hilarity is about to turn 68 in a few weeks, and he's still circling the globe and performing with the zeal of a comic half his age.
With the exception of Bill Cosby, Don Rickles and Joan Rivers, there are precious few wits out there who can boast of a still-flourishing career that has lasted as long as Connolly's. It goes back more than 40 years -50, if you count his stint as a folksinger in the '60s.
"It's a funny position to find myself in," Connolly concedes in a phone interview. "I don't really spend lots of time thinking about how long I've been around, but as times goes by, it kind of dawns on me that I really have been. I'll say something to someone like, 'The last time I was there was in '76,' then they go, '!@#$, I wasn't even born till '85.' " .
Then Connolly invariably goes "!@#$." He has a fondness for spraying F-bombs during performances. In his case, though, it's not cussing -"it's merely punctuation." And punctuation is big in Glasgow, where it is invariably cold and miserable and raining. On the bright side, "global warming seems to be keeping its distance from us. Yes, it keeps its Presbyterian distance." Organized religion is one of his pet peeves, not to mention one of his greatest sources of humour.
Ever the self-effacing Glaswegian, Connolly is fond of saying that he's "just a welder who got lucky." Right. There's a little more than luck involved. Connolly is surefire on the laugh front. He always brings down houses, and he rarely repeats himself -even when he's doing two shows the same night. He just has the touch.
As anyone who has ever caught Connolly on stage can attest, he is also genuinely having fun. "There is no sense in just being a schoolteacher on stage who's doing the same set of irregular verbs every day. You have to entertain yourself. If you don't think it's funny, I'm sure they don't, either," he explains. "I collapse laughing sometimes on stage. I really do have such a grand time, and I would never fake that."
Connolly must get by making himself laugh, because he rarely goes to see other comics. The reason he doesn't take in the comedy of others is that he frets he may inadvertently borrow their material. "I do have this fear that if I hear some comedian, a year later their material will come popping out of my mouth," he says. "You really think it's your own material, too. Same thing with tunes. You think you've written this really nice tune, and then somebody comes up to tell you whose song it is and that it comes from 1965."
Connolly doesn't have to listen to other comedians to find material. He has a better source: politicians, who continue to provide him with endless fodder. "I'm blessed. As long as you have the tea-bag movement, you can't fail," he jokes, before citing the wisdom of Christine O'Donnell, whose bid for a U.S. Senate seat in Delaware failed -perhaps due to her views on everything from witchcraft (in which she used to dabble) to masturbation (in which she doesn't dabble and in which she wishes others didn't, either.)
"Imagine that: she's against masturbation and she's got this uncannily scary resemblance to Sarah Palin. There must be a factory somewhere that's churning these people out. These people are dangerous whack jobs, because they actually think they know what they're talking about."
Connolly has his share of critics, too. A Scottish journalist who interviewed him a few years ago took him to task for "becoming so American." Her reason for coming to this conclusion: "She had read that I had been to see a psychologist. I said: 'Yeah, I had. I was troubled by some stuff and it was very good.' She said: 'But that's not the Scottish way. We go down to the pub and discuss our troubles with a friend.' I should remember that the next time I'm in trouble. I'll ask some drunk guy for help," cracks Connolly, who, in fact, has been married to psychologist Pamela Stephenson since 1989.
Connolly isn't just about eliciting chuckles. He has done some surprisingly inspired dramatic turns on screen, particularly in Mrs. Brown (1997), in which Connolly was cast as a Scottish servant involved in a complex relationship with Queen Victoria (Judi Dench). Connolly was nominated for a British Academy Award and a Screen Actors Guild Award for his work.
"I've had a nice run with film and would like to do more. But you have to be a nice boy and wait to be asked to do another, unless you write something for yourself. But I don't think I'm capable of doing that," adds Connolly, who has also appeared in Indecent Proposal, The Last Samurai, Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events and The X-Files: I Want to Believe. I wanted to be a comedian when I was a schoolboy, and I've done it. It's really quite simple. I've never been an ambitious guy." Pause. "The trick is not to be ambitious yourself, but to surround yourself with people who are."
Billy Connolly's a charity case QUEENSLAND'S devastating floods have pressed comedian Billy Connolly's buttons.
Geoff Shearer
The Courier-Mail (AU)
February 12, 2011
Press his buttons and he'll give you money. Billy Connolly is bemoaning what it means to be a father of three girls in their 20s. "Pfut, pfut, pfut,'' he intersperses as he titters at the situation he finds himself in as the official doler of dollars.
The roguish Scottish comedian is touring Australia. On Thursday night he played Brisbane where he'll also hold a special charity concert tomorrow to raise money for the state's flood victims. But it is the way his daughters treat him as a charity which has him bemused at the moment.
"I'm an ATM,'' he says. "They say 'Daaaaad' and, 'pfut, pfut, pfut', out comes the money.'' Connolly is referring to his three girls to Pamela Stephenson Daisy, 27, Amy, 24, and Scarlett, 22. The couple relocated from Los Angeles to Manhattan to be closer to their girls as they went through college in upstate New York. He also has a son and daughter, Jamie and Cara, to his first wife Iris Pressagh.
Talking of his daughters, he swings into a tale about how one of them is making a documentary about a school janitor who's preparing to retire. As the school lauds him, celebrating how one man in a seemingly menial job can have a massive influence on school life, he starts to have second thoughts about leaving. It's a simple slice-of-life dilemma but Connolly is using it to highlight what he sees as a need to scuttle the gravitas and ceremony surrounding the concept of "retirement''. It is not a word he likes to use and it rolls off his tongue with obvious disgust.
"Retire? Retirement is a stupid concept. Really, it is,'' he says. Which is why the 68-year-old still travels the world with his stand-up comedy. Despite having the pick of film and television work, he still seeks the "therapy'' of live performance. "I find I need it,'' he says. "If I leave it for, like, four weeks I get itchy feet.''
And Australia has become a regular venue for soothing both his soul and soles. "I have an affinity with the country. Love the place. Pam tours with me when she can and she wanted to come down this time but she's doing that live ballroom dancing thing,'' he says, referring to Stephenson's turn on the UK television series Strictly Come Dancing. The 61-year-old comedienne finished third in the show in December and is now on a month-long Strictly Come Dancing live tour.
In an interview last month with UK magazine Woman and Home, Stephenson said she would love for her husband to join her on the dance floor at some stage. "I have a fantasy we might get into Argentine tango because I think he might like it and, actually, I think he would be very good,'' she said. "I think it would be a lovely thing to do together. It would be so romantic.'' Connolly admits it would be romantic but doesn't think it's going to happen. "Noooooo,'' he wails. "I can't dance. I've made too much fun of it on stage over the years to start doing it properly now.''
Anyway, he has more important things to do while he's Down Under. While freshwater trout fishing in Tasmania, reading, playing his banjo and "just, you know, quietly getting about the place'' are on his personal agenda, his professional dance card just got busier with the addition of tomorrow's charity concert which sold out in three hours to his previously planned three-night gig in Brisbane. He also plays cyclone-ravaged Cairns next week along with two gigs at the Gold Coast.
Connolly says he was left heartbroken by the anguish of families hit by the Queensland floods. As soon as he landed on Australian soil last month, he set about working out how he could help. While it would have been easy to write a cheque, he felt it was better to do what he does best make people laugh. All proceeds from the new show will go to the Premier's Disaster Relief Fund. A commemorative T-shirt will be sold on the night and invites have been sent out to SES workers and defence force personnel.
"One thing that really touched me was the little boy and his mother who were swept away and how the other boy was saved,'' he says with genuine disbelief and emotion in his voice. He hopes a little laughter and a contribution to the cause may go some way to helping parents and children start to rebuild their lives.
Press his buttons and a compassionate Connolly will try to give you what you need.
Billy Connolly - Route 66
This 4 part series which sees Billy travel the legendary route across the USA begins tonight. It will be available in the comedy video section...
Billy Connolly ends two shows early because of hecklers
2nd February 2012
He was recently hailed as the most influential comedian of all time. However, it appears Billy Connolly, 69, is not always at one with his audiences. It has emerged that the comedian – known as Big Yin – has ended his shows prematurely twice in just eight days as a result of heckling during his current UK tour.
Connolly left the stage prematurely last Saturday in Blackpool, Lancashire. He had done the same thing a week earlier in Scarborough, North Yorkshire. His surprise walk-outs have led to fans suggesting Connolly - who is married to former Strictly Come Dancing contestant Pamela Stephenson, 62, - may be growing fed up with performing.
Paul Tye, 48, a musician from Barnsley, South Yorks was in the audience at Scarborough’s Futurist Theatre. He said the Scottish stand-up was getting increasingly frustrated at the amount of people leaving and re-entering the auditorium during the two-hour show. He said: ‘At first Billy tried to make a joke of it, encouraging the audience to sing when a group of lads returned from the bar during the show. But this seemed to just encourage more people to get up. In the end he said: ‘I’ll tell you one more story’ when someone shouted out. Billy then said: ‘Well actually, no, that’s it, I’ll finish now’. I think by that point he had just had enough. He took a bow and that was it.
Mr Tye went on: ‘He’s an old guy, he’s not young anymore. He was losing his thread as he was telling his stories and getting more and more frustrated. He didn’t show his anger but you could see he was getting frustrated.’
The star then cut short his set at the Blackpool Opera House. Audience member Alan Wright, 50, - who works for the Wildlife Trust - said: ‘He was telling a joke about strokes – explaining that members of his family had suffered from them – when someone in the audience shouted “you’re shite”. He then finished the story and walked off. You would have expected him to come back on and it was a really strange situation because everyone was talking about it afterwards and there was disappointment. He’s a great hero of comedy of mine but I don’t think it’s unfair to say he’s getting fed up with comedy, because that’s the impression he gave.’
Ffyona McKeating, 39, a solicitor from Walton-le-Dale, near Preston, was attending the show with her husband. She said: ‘It was terrible. I couldn’t believe it because I’ve got a 14-month-old child and I’m pregnant, so I don’t get out very much and wanted to see him. It was such an anti-climax and I felt he should have been used to hecklers. I’ve seen other comedians who shake off hecklers.’
Fans who had attended the shows also took to the Internet to criticise Connolly. One – calling himself floggeroskins - said: ‘For me he's well past his best before date. Hope all those who missed out on a full show from Billy Connolly were re-imbursed part of the cost of their tickets in compensation for their loss, or did Billy and his associates do a runner with all of the money as well?’
Another, called hatman, said: ‘Such a shame he wasn't able to come up with the goods. I thought it was a pretty lazy performance with an awful lot of "filler". I got the impression he either wasn't that bothered or hadn't sorted out much material.’ Yet another, listed as steak pie, said: ‘Heard a lot of that material before, and he seemed to be checking his watch all the way through as though he needed to be somewhere else, then he left in an abrupt manner after a heckle!’
Mr Connolly’s tour is due to end next month [march] and he has spoken previously of his hatred of hecklers. He said recently: ‘I loathe hecklers. I haven't got a good syllable to say about hecklers. When you come out of the club circuit and into the concert halls they should be gone. There's an element of manners that should tell you that the ticket is dear and it's a different venue. People have had a bath to come here so sit down, shut up and listen.’
A spokesman for Mr Connolly declined to comment.
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I've heckled more than a few comedians in the past, but Billy's got a point about the difference between playing in small clubs and large venues.
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