It’s not often I change my mind about seeing a show. Once it drops off the reviews list it has missed its moment. I was too busy to see spoof psychic Shirley Ghostman’s “Spooktacular” opening night, but when I looked on Twitter and saw enthusiastic reports from comedians whose opinion I respect, such as Reece Shearsmith and Richard Herring, plus a lot of fans excited about it, I thought I’d better check it out. And I didn’t regret it. Who could have predicted that?
Another surprise was the fact that Bush Hall was packed. I know Ghostman has had a series on BBC Three but I didn’t realise he had this much of a following – this was the final night of a sold out five-night run. But having seen him it is easy to see why he is so popular. As well as sending up the soothsaying business there is also a rich strand of inappropriate, awkward comedy here. Imagine Alan Partridge moonlighting in the spirit world.
From the opening song in which the white-suited mock medium camply sings about being intimate with the famous dead (Mandela, Diana…) to the tune of Madonna’s Like A Prayer, he never misses an opportunity for a bad taste joke. There is a running gag about paedophiles in the room, the dead celebrities get to “come on my face” and there is an inevitable double entendre about ectoplasm flying everywhere. Seeing the show late in the run I also got a bonus Pete Burns gag. The whole thing is held together by a very Partridge-esque story about a dispute with a plumber who did a bad job on his leaky shower tray (not a euphemism).
There is also a lot of crowd work, with Ghostman is assisted by the spirit of his dead dog Sheba. I’ve seen speculation in reviews that some of the audience were plants, but even if that is the case there were plenty of spontaneous lines too. Some were probably scripted, but some were very close to the bone. You could almost see the immediate regret in Ghostman’s eyes after he laid his hands on a large woman’s head and delivered his catchphrase: “I feel your pain, I feel your shame, but you’re not to blame” before cracking a gag about her actually being a man. Luckily he was quick-witted enough to deliver a follow-up line about the reading being intended for someone else which won the crowd back.
If the first half was playful banter the second half had a slightly serious tone alongside the comedy when he showed how modern psychics can use technology to unearth information about audience members in advance. It was pretty impressive and, again, some of it may have been set up, but whether real or not it was one of the highlights of the night. This, doesn’t, of course, explain how psychics worked before broadband, but Ghostman gave a hint of that too, with his vague “I’m looking for a tall man” “I’m hearing the name Jennifer…Jessica…” schtick. It’s a ridiculous show, but well-performed and a lot of fun. Just don’t go along expecting to hear from your dead grandfather.
More dates here.
*I've just reread this review and realised that I didn't even mention that Ghostman is the fictional creation of comic actor Marc Wootton. He's that convincing.
