Today I got shouted at by the 41st best stand-up comedian ever. The rest was all good though. Mostly.
The Carpenters Arms does beds, beers, evening meals and Sunday lunches. But not breakfasts. Their hospitality, however, does include pointing you in the direction of a decent brekkie. It involves a drive, but luckily we are armed with a motor.
A quick three minute blat westward down the A4066 towards Pendine and we are soon sat in the Stone Ranger (or something like that) cafe. I had been expecting kiss me quickly hats, plastic windmills and egg butties. But it’s actually a quite hip, dare I say, artesian gaff. They do a wide variety of vegetarian options and I am pleased to note that the veggie breakfast is free of avocado, spinach or sour dough. It’s just a really nice breakfast.
Stomachs lined, we head back to the Carpenters, get armed and dangerous, then roll down into town. We stop off at Ty-glo to book a table for tonight.
First event for us is Mark Steel in conversation with Robin Ince. Dispite the AM only just clicking over into the PM, the hall is full and the day gets a gentle kick start.
Whenever I consider booking one of my favourite authors / comedians / whatever to do a show, I often think I can save money by interviewing them myself. Then I see someone like Robin Ince in action and realise I’m being silly. The guy is a cultural sponge who does his homework. And he’s quite funny.
A lot of the talk centers around Mark Steel’s In Town, the radio show where Mark does a one-off routine based entirely on the town he is performing in. We hear about him upsetting an audience by talking about their feral goats, getting regional accents wrong and the town that invented a way of making mass produced bread taste shit.
The show involves researching stuff about towns that is less than obvious. A theme that weaves its way into The Mark Steel Lectures. We basically spend an hour watching two comedians who are passionate about 360 degree learning. They discuss a coffee mug and how, if you really want to understand it, you need to discuss the technical methods of how they are made, the history of the development of those technologies, and the social and political implications of those advances. I’m not really selling this as a comedy show, but it is hilarious watching these two pull bizarre facts out of their collective memories, all wrapped up in anecdotes about ordinary people saying and doing extraordinary things.
We then wander up to the church. We are a bit early for Stewart Lee, but sneak upstairs to get a decent seat on the balcony.
Another couple walk in early downstairs and Stewart asks them to leave because it would spoil the show to see him rehearsing. We make ourselves look small upstairs so he doesn’t throw us out as well.
Eventually the audience files in and Stewart hits the stage. He tells a few jokes to warm up the crowd, but he is only one joke in before he shouts at me for taking photographs.
“Don’t take any more photographs, it’s distracting. Besides, this is it, it’s just me, standing here, all the photos will be the same.”
I consider myself told.
It’s not a stand-up show though. He revisits a show he did twenty-five years ago. He reads Lear’s poem, The Owl and the Pussycat, then reads out extracts from the owl’s diary from that journey in that Pea Green Boat. It is deadpan, dark and surreal. As you would expect from the 41st best stand-up comedian ever. He is accompanied by Eliza McCarthey on violin to add extra surrealness to the show.
We then head for the beer garden of Brown’s, the town’s premier pub that was known to be a haunt of Dylan Thomas. Mark Steel is having a pint with Mark Thomas and I feel obliged to go against the Laugharne cool rule, and say hello.
We hadn’t really got anything else planned, we were just going to get drunk before our meal, but decide to pop in and see Charlie Higson in the church. It wasn’t really what we were expecting, although in fairness it was exactly what it said in the programme. He’s written a book about the history of the Royal family from 1066 to now. He’s in conversation with Richard Thomas, the festival organiser. There are, inevitably humourous moments, but on the whole it is a history lesson about a succession of over-privilged parasites.
We had opted to sit right at the front, which was a mistake. Half way through the talk the afternoon’s drinking was starting to take its toll on my bladder. But as we were right up front it felt rude to walk out. This meant I couldn’t really focus properly on anything past Queen Victoria, and eventually sprinted to the toilet when the Q+A started.
The next hour or so is spent stood outside Brown’s in the company of James Brown (no, not that one) and his mate Mark. Bonhomie is had, but eventually we have to head to the restaurant for our meal.
I can specifically remember an amazing risotto I had twenty years ago that blew my mind and my taste buds. Ever since I have measured every risotto I have had by that benchmark. And they always fall short. It is, after all, just posh rice. Tonight I am served up a risotto that not only hits the benchmark, but surpassed it. It’s like there’s a party in my mouth and everyone is invited.
It is a generous portion and I feel guilty about not being able to eat it all, but they are happy to provide a doggy bag. And do you know what? Even cold, the next morning, it is still better than many of the risottos I’ve had warm. So tip for travellers. Check out Ty-glo.