-------------------------------------------- Bono, the lead singer of the band U2, is famous throughout the entertainment industry for being more than just a little self-righteous. At a recent U2 concert in Glasgow, Scotland he asked the audience for total quiet. Then, in the silence, he started to slowly clap his hands, once every few seconds. Holding the audience in total silence, he said into the microphone, "Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies." A voice with a broad Scottish accent from the front of the crowd pierced the quiet. . . "Well, fookin' stop doin it then, ya evil basturd!"
[Castle maintained his terminal lung cancer was due to passive smoking from the clubs he worked.]) ... Roy Castle - a dynamic and versatile 'turn', who starred in numerous television shows, from the Fifties, until his untimely death, in the early Nineties - was completing a gruelling six-day run, at Glasgow's legendary Argyle Theatre.
This theatre was famed for the extraordinary degree of hostility, shown by audiences, to artistes from England; and, Ronnie explained, that, on this particular 'last night', poor Roy Castle was, clearly, not going to be treated any differently from any other English performer...despite having turned-in 'class' performances, at both houses, throughout the week.
The special safety-net - designed to catch cabbages and other edible missiles - was hoisted, above the auditorium, as usual, as Roy went into the final part of his act.
He tap-danced, with the skill and panache of Astaire; but, no applause was forthcoming: just an ominous silence, among the capacity-packed, Saturday 'second-house', audience.
Then he played his trumpet; still, nothing.
Then he produced, and played, a litany of instruments, including clarinet, saxaphone, washboard, mouth organ, guitar...ending with a really energetic flourish on his spectacular Ludwig drum kit.
Still nothing.
Finally, one very vocal, local drunk, broke the silence, bawling his slurred critique, through a haze of smoke and alcohol, billowing up to his perch, as he draped himself over the gilded Baroque balcony, of the upper circle:
"Is thah ney end to this F***er's talent ?"
Which, once said, was followed closely, by waves of uproarious laughter, and multitudinous applause....apparently, exclusively, in favour of - no, not Roy Castle, but - the drunk, in the Gods !
Meanwhile, Mr. Castle bowed, and made a graceful - but rapid - exit 'stage-left'... into the arms of the awaiting, red-faced, and profusely apologetic, manager.
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