Fall-down COMEDIAN

STAND-UP STAR MICHELE A’COURT TAKES ANOTHER TUMBLE

The other night in an underground city car park, I put on quite a show. Not the kind of show I’d just done in the comedy club up the road – that had gone far more to plan and involved very little slapstick. Also, that had been stand-up. This was entirely fall-down.

There was a sizeable audience for both events, though. I’d finished work with a decent crowd around the same time the Auckland Philharmonia had knocked off next door, so the car park was abuzz with classical music lovers now queuing up to pay for their parking and happily chatting. By all accounts, pianist Michael Houston was superb and the Rachmaninov had been invigorating. You could tell there would be no early nights at these people’s houses.

I chatted with strangers about our evenings the way you do in long, slow-moving queues, then skipped towards my car – possibly a bit full of myself and my own good times – and suddenly fell flat on my face on what I can only assume was a particularly slippery bit of concrete.