How much would you pay to watch an 80-year-old man strip on stage?
At the far end of Blackpool’s North Pier, the going rate is £27. That gets you two cheeks, a velvet seat and a one-night stand with the past. “You fat bastard! You fat bastard!” the crowd chants. Is he going to take off his pants? Yes, yes he is.
Crude, vulgar, hypnotic and humbling, this isn’t some seaside fever dream. It is the climax of an evening with Roy “Chubby” Brown: Britain’s most offensive comedian, and one of its most enduring.
If the nation’s psyche had an attic, Chubby would be locked away in there. Instead, Chubby is still on the loose, bouncing from club to club like a Punch and Judy puppet possessed by Bernard Manning. Over the past half-century, he has played to hundreds of thousands of adoring fans each year. Yet for all his success, Chubby — in his multicoloured suit and flying helmet — has always performed in exile.
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