Graham Fellows created the character of Sheffield's never-ageing songsmith John Shuttleworth when he was in his twenties. Four decades on he has caught him up and they are now both in their sixties. Shuttleworth might even be younger than Fellows. But judging by last night's epic gig he still has plenty of mileage in him.
The current tour, marking forty years of the versatile spoof singer/songwriter, is entitled Raise The Oof! He has always excelled at superb titles. It follows My Last Will and Tasty Mint and One Foot In The Gravy. He claims it is actually called Raise the Roof but the "R" is obscured in the onstage backdrop by the image of his trademark pumping fist.
And there were plenty of pumping fists in the audience too at this sold out gig. Shuttleworth's Yamaha-based bossa nova rhythms might be a corny mix of bleeps and squeaks, but they are also infectious and varied. He hasn't quite gone full grunge, but he gives Nirvana a run for their money on his ode to cleaning paintbrushes, Smells Like White Spirit.
This was very much a two-hour-plus greatest hits set. Maybe not a Springsteen-level marathon but certainly sweeping, combining classics from his back catalogue such as Austin Ambassador Y Reg about his trusty old motor and his clapalong attempt at a Eurovision entry Pigeons In Flight with newer compositions such as The Pumice Stone, about his preferred foot exfoliation method.
Between songs Shuttleworth chatted about his wife Mary and his sole agent Ken Worthington. Ken is still getting him plenty of bookings, but they tend to be in care homes and hospices. He does drive a hard bargain though, demanding that his client gets unfettered access to the tea urn.
After all the years the music – and beige slacks – remains unchanged to the point where this almost feels like a piece of performance art. There is something quintessentially English about Shuttleworth, plugging away at his keyboard, only pausing briefly to eat a banana for an energy boost.
The paradox is that despite the fact that he is still playing garden centres his songs are actually sublime explorations of the mundane. The lyrics have an eye for an evocative detail redolent of Alan Bennett and Victoria Wood. Take I Can't Go Back to Savoury Now, about not being able to eat more meat after starting on his treacle sponge: "That shepherd's pie was stunning, but I'm halfway through my pudding."
His finest moment, however, was probably Two Margarines, saved for the encore, about the stress created by accidentally starting one tub of spread when another is already open: "Two margarines on the go, it's a nightmare scenario," this Sinatra of the Sanatogen set sang. Nothing nightmarish about his gloriously enjoyable show though.
Also tonight then touring
