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About the Author
Dave Gorman is an award-winning comedian, storyteller and writer. He has numerous TV writing credits and was part of the double BAFTA-winning team behind The Mrs Merton Show. His live shows have won numerous awards and he is the only performer to twice win the Jury Prize for Best One Person Show at Americas prestigious HBO US Comedy Arts Festival. As well as writing, producing and starring in two BBC2 series he has made numerous other TV appearances, including Absolutely Fabulous, The Frank Skinner Show, The Late Show with David Letterman, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart where he has appeared both as a guest and as the shows resident statistician. He is the host of Radio 4s hit comedy Genius, which transfers to BBC2 in 2008. His documentary film, America Unchained, won the Audience Award for Best Documentary Feature at the Austin Film Festival. He enjoys cycling, poker, photography and cryptic crosswords. His ambition is to one day become a team captain on Call My Bluff.
www.davegorman.com
America Unchained
Dave Gorman
For Anna Devonshire
Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains. McDonalds and Starbucks are just two examples.
Jean Jacques Rousseau
The ManTM: A generic name for the owners of multinational chain stores, brands and trademarks.
Mom & Pop: A generic name for the owners of small, independent and usually family run businesses.
Part one
In The Beginning
Chapter 1
On your marks...
OPEN WIDE, SAID the doctor, taking a good long look at the back of my throat. Hmmm. Youve been using your voice a lot, havent you?
Yeb, I said. I tried to tip my head back a bit more to help the build up of saliva to escape. When your tongue is fighting a losing battle against something that looks like a lolly stick but is, apparently, a tongue depressor, swallowing is difficult and only gravity can help. Sebber obe a ee or aw uns.
Seven shows a week? said the doctor, his voice rich with concern, thats a lot.
Or aw uns! I repeated, keen that he understood the seriousness of the situation.
For four months? Whew... what kind of show is it?
A on a oh.
Well, no wonder youve done some damage, he said. He removed the depressor and the mirror from my mouth. My jaw ached. A one-man show will do that to you, especially with a schedule like that. Im afraid you have a nodule.
A nodule?
The word rattled around the back of my head. I searched my memory for something nodule-related. Nodule? The word was lurking there, for sure. Wasnt it nodules that threatened Elton Johns career? That sounds very serious, I said, trying to be as brave as the Rocket Man but still wincing in anticipation of the yet-to-be-revealed implications.
Excuse me?
I said that it sounds very serious.
Oh, right. Sorry, I think your English accent threw me, said the doc, a man who could successfully interpret the half-formed grunts of a man whose tongue he was wrangling but not the actual words of an Englishman. Basically a nodule is a callus on the back of the throat. Youve got one and its cracked; its an open wound. So it hurts. I can give you something to alleviate the pain in the short term. It will still hurt. If you perform tonight you will make it worse but you wont do any permanent damage. But afterwards you need to rest your voice. How many shows do you have left on this tour?
Just tonight.
Well then, your last show is going to be painful. After that, I recommend you dont talk for a few days. Keep hydrated. Avoid alcohol and anything that dries you out.
Like flying?
Yes. Like flying.
Thats going to be hard, I said. I fly home tomorrow.
Seattle to London? he asked. I nodded. He grimaced. Ill give you some lozenges. But mainly, you need rest. How long before youre on stage tonight?
Half an hour.
A few days later I found myself ignoring the medical advice by taking my nodule out for a few drinks. It was unwise but it seemed rude not to. After all, the BBC was throwing me a welcome home party so the least I could do was enter into the spirit of things.
To spare my blushes nobody was referring to it as the Welcome-Dave-back-from-a-four-month-tour-of-the-States Party. Instead it was referred to by the codewords: The BBC Radio Light Entertainment Christmas Party. Theyd even printed that phrase on the invitations, bless em, but I knew what we were really there for and I was flattered.
To help with the subterfuge theyd invited a whole load of people that Id never even met many of whom seemed to have connections with BBC Radio Light Entertainment but amongst the couple of hundred people there, there must have been a dozen or so close friends and colleagues.
Most of my conversations that day started in the same way: Hey, youre back from the States, Chris, Carl, Dunc, Carrie, Dutch, Gert, Smudger, Tush, Jo or Joe would say. How was the tour?
Great, would say I, because thats what you say in that situation. Really great. So... what have I missed? Give me the gossip. And our conversations would meander on from there.
Hey, youre back from the States, said a voice. I turned to see the smiling face of Geoff McGivern.
Geoff is an actor. Hes the kind of man whose face you recognise without being able to pin down exactly where you know him from and if youre a keen listener to Radio 4 the same is true of his voice. Hes been in loads of stuff but is nowhere near as famous as his talent merits. Hes in his fifties but he has a glint in his eye that belongs to a much younger man. Hes a brilliant presence on a stage and a warm and garrulous presence in a bar too. Hes also... well, a touch eccentric, evidenced by the fact that he lives full-time in a hotel in Kings Cross a part of town where hotel rooms are more likely to be rented by the hour. Id met Geoff fleetingly on a couple of occasions and always been enthralled by him but I wouldnt have expected him to remember me.
Yes, I said, Im back. What have I missed? Give me the goss, Geoff.
Ive been reading your column in the Guardian, he said, which I hadnt missed and wasnt gossip.
While Id been touring the States Id been contracted to write a weekly tour diary of sorts for the Guardian newspaper. Geoff leant in towards me as if he had something secret to divulge. Youve been having a fucking miserable time, havent you?
I stared at Geoff in disbelief. I wanted to hug him. I had indeed been having a miserable time. Whats more, Id spent most of the miserable time lying to myself and to others about it, telling everyone that everything was fine, burying the underlying unhappiness a little deeper each time. Id even spent the last couple of hours telling a number of close friends that it had been Great. Really great, but somehow Geoff a man I barely knew could see through me.
When Id been writing those columns Id made a conscious effort not to put in any whining. I was aware that I was in a very privileged position: I was being paid to travel the world, performing a one-man show that Id written and directed, so being a grump about it didnt feel seemly.
The truth was that Id had a big falling out with the tours promoters very early on and that for four months we had then had to work together without really wanting to. There wasnt any glamorous side to this tour, just badly thought-through travel arrangements, largely unpleasant hotels and a lot of ill will between me and the people I was working for. I didnt think
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