Task 55: See Henning Wehn live on stage

Laughing is one of the greatest pleasures in life and including a task that focused on this was a no-brainer.  Although I've seen a number of stand-up comedians in South Africa over the years, I've never been to one in the UK, so that was an easy decision.  Deciding who to go and see was equally simple as Peter and I both find Henning Wehn very funny when we listen to him on The Unbelievable Truth and see him on Would I Lie to You, so he was my top choice.  Luckily when I googled him last December I found he had a show in London in early April, just after we were due to return from South Africa, so I booked tickets straight away.  It's as well I did it then, as most of his shows for the first half of this year are sold out.

For anyone who hasn't already come across him, Henning is the self-styled German Comedy Ambassador in London.  As his website points out, "This is not the easiest of jobs because Germans allegedly do not have a sense of humour.  Henning does not find that funny".  He moved to the UK in 2002, originally planning to stay for a year to improve his English, but "the good weather, the tasty food and the classy women made me stay". In 2003 he went to an open mic night and decided to try his hand at stand-up comedy. He's now well established and lives permanently in London - at least, for the next two years....

The show was at the Leicester Square Theatre, 7-9pm with an interval.  We arrived early to soak in the atmosphere and were interested to see that the queue, which was snaking around the corner, included people of all ages, with at least as many men as women. 

Some were a bit slow to take their seats, so the show started about 2 minutes late with an announcement from Henning apologising to any Germans in the audience for the delay, which was due to British tardiness.  At one point he asked whether there were any Germans in the audience.  One woman put her hand up and he then talked to her in German for quite some time.  Eventually he turned round to the rest of us and explained he was simply doing what the British do when we're abroad - talk in our own language and ignore the locals - except he wasn't shouting.

Musing on the implications of Brexit, he pondered whether he should be termed an immigrant.  On balance he thought not, as the word implied suffering and he really hadn't suffered that much making the journey to the UK.  Admittedly he had had to get to Dortmund airport early and hang around for the flight to Luton, and then at Luton he found it didn't connect to any trains, and when he got to the railway stations none of the fast trains stopped there, but still at least he'd had a seat on the plane rather than hanging on to one of the landing wheels. 

The British reliance on self deprecation and humour to get away with incompetence, compared with German precision and exactitude, came in for some witty observations. For immigrants, the UK is seen as a land of opportunity, where you can realise your dreams. If, for example, your dream is to become a plumber, you can simply set up and start the next day. As you stand there in pools of water and muck, you can explain to the customer that it didn't work too well this time and maybe plumbing isn't your strongest suit. The same approach isn't to be recommended in Germany.

Our unwillingness to address the issue of colour was also examined. He held up some boards with photos of famous footballers and musicians, asking which was the odd one out. In each case only one was either white or black, but no-one in the audience gave that answer. Instead there was "the only blonde", "the only one born overseas", etc.  No-one wanted to state the obvious. In the end he held up a board with seven red squares and one green, and asked the same question.  Um...

What I like most about his humour is that he really thinks about issues and human behaviour, and often bases his satire - which is witty rather than abrasive - on perceptions of foibles or illogicalities.  He sees an aspect that wouldn't strike most people but when he draws it out, it seems true if slightly weird.  Are we really like that? Well, yes, probably we are.  It's just we'd never noticed it before.

A couple of days before the show, it occurred to me that it would make the blog more interesting if I could include a photo of me with Henning (and to be honest, I was excited at the possibility).  His website has the option of emailing him, so I sent him a short email, explaining why I was doing the blog and asking if I could meet him for just a minute or two after the show and have a photo taken of us together.  To my surprise and delight, he replied instantly and said that would be fine, as he'd be in the foyer anyway. He also wished me luck with the blog.

After the encore, I lurked around until the crowd had cleared and then explained who I was. He immediately obliged while Peter took a few photos, and commented on my post about the Dickens Museum - so, unlike many of my friends, he's actually read some of the blog!! Here we are, with him sporting an English Heritage flag (you had to be there to get the joke):

If you have the chance, I'd urge you to go to one of his shows.  Humour is a very personal thing and I've found it impossible to capture his style here, but I think you'd have a great time.