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Last Tuesday, Ricky Hatton of Hyde hit the boards with a repertoire that might be described as classic of sorts, a kind of Manc vaudeville redolent of the working men's club.
Hatton was a Capstan Full Strength short of Seventies staples George Roper, Bernard Manning, Colin Crompton et al; hand in pocket, sipping ale and effing his way through a ribald hour of stand-up threaded around a rude commentary on his boxing career.
"It's a rare opportunity to perform without someone tryin' to punch yer ------- teeth out."
"Can you imagin' finding Mike Tyson in bed with yer missus? You'd ------- tuck 'im in."
"You should see my missus. She's a babe. 'Ave you seen the film?"
Cambridge is not an obvious spot in which to roll out an evening with the Hitman. Given the number of cropped pates, the audience had probably not wandered in from Downing or Pembroke. These were Hatton's people, a demographic unique in British sport.
"I saw that Pavarotti before he died. Miserable ------ he was. He didn't like yer joinin' in, did he?"
You either laugh at this stuff or freeze. The delivery is dry as dust, a moderated version of the Chubby Brown genre beloved of the industrial north. In the post-war regional metropolis generations of soiled humanity sought refuge from the bump and grind of wage labour in the blue humour of Sunday afternoons at the Wheeltappers and Shunters.
Through a fug of cigarette emissions and imperfect eau de Cologne, comics would coil themselves around a microphone and make life for working men a little bit easier at the expense of the mother-in-law, ****sexuals and other **********. Hatton borrows heavily from that tradition, if not the material, which has not survived the PC shredder. And he's good.
"I really enjoy it. It gives people who normally see you only on TV a chance to come and get a picture, have a pint, mingle, stuff like that. A lot of celebrities in this world are like, 'don't take a picture of me, don't do this with me'. People find it refreshing. You can have a chat with them, take the ---- out of them in a friendly way."
Prefixed by that well worn expletive starting with an 'f' and ending in 'hell' the Hitman greeted his guests something like this: "------- hell, its Victor Meldrew. You all right pal? Nice to see you."
Or, "------- hell, its nice to have someone smaller than me. How are you pal? Nice to see you."
The queue for a picture with Hatton snaked down three flights of stairs. More than 200 out of an audience of 1,000-plus paid for the privilege. Backstage he put his name to everyone of them. "She can have a kiss," said Hatton, adding an X to the photograph of a girl who did not look a lot unlike Jennifer, the bespectacled brunette who shares his life.
"She looks after me. Since Jennifer moved in I've not put half the weight on that I normally do between fights. She cooks proper food, pasta and that."
The new domestic arrangements spell doom for the Hatton caricature immortalised in that celebrated corruption of the Jeff Beck anthem, Hi Ho Silver Lining, in which 'Ricky Fatton' travels the country in pursuit of obesity. The song accompanies Hatton at the start of his set. He is primed to enter stage left half way through, when the punters are by now well oiled in their hippy hats.
While all this is going on his father, Ray, waits for the call that will confirm the May 2 date with Manny Pacquiao. Boxing's new pound-for-pound sweetheart is wriggling on the end of a verbal agreement that according to Hatton's lawyer is binding. Money, as ever, threatens the peace.
"Look around you. You can see how many have turned out tonight. I sold out the City of Manchester Stadium in six hours, 55,000 people. Thousands follow me to Vegas. How many people does he bring from the Philippines? Not many.
No disrespect to Manny, he is a great fighter, and deserves his pound-for-pound accolade. But I bring as much to the table if not more than him. We agreed a 50-50 split. It's that or nothing."
Hatton has added Liam and Noel to his big-fight retinue. Veterans of the Vegas bout with Paul Malignaggi last November the Gallagher boys will top the list to carry Hatton's belts into the ring against the Pacman, should he soften his 60-40 demands. If nothing else they ought to stiffen the delivery of Blue Moon.
"The Oasis lads carrying my belts at the Malignaggi fight was amazing. It was one of best performances of my career bearing in mind a few people thought I was starting to look past it. They came to Vegas, carried the belt in. Then I flew to Mexico City with them. Watched them live. Then I flew to Vegas for the Pacquiao-De la Hoya fight and they were playing at the Palms Resort on the same night.
" I bet they thought I was stalking them. It was the best fortnight of my life. I was a fan of theirs for years before I met them. Now they are me pals. Stuff like that never ceases to amaze me."
That's why we love you Ricky, the reluctant idol. We await the Hatton invite to Primrose Hill. That would be a performance worth watching. Dropped aitches all round. In Cambridge he ran through the key nights of his career; Ben Tackie, Kostya Tszyu, Floyd Mayweather, Malinaggi.
The latter display, shaped by new trainer Floyd Mayweather Snr, lifted Hatton out of his post-Pretty Boy malaise. Before it, many wondered if his best days not behind him, Hatton included.
"I don't blame people for thinking I was going to get beat by Malignaggi. Against Juan Lazcano the fight before I was ill. What with that and the Mayweather fight the signs were that I was fading. I was thinking 'am I past it?'"
The split with trainer Billy Graham and the appointment of Mayweather Snr might yet extend his career beyond this year. After Pacquiao, Hatton wants to revisit his trainer's son on better terms, as a fighter with his brain engaged as well as his heart.
"I'd rather lose to him again than sit there in retirement never having tried. I can live with defeat, but I can't live with not having a go."
Hatton goes again next week in Cardiff, Portsmouth and Plymouth.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/oth...-on-stage.html
Hatton was a Capstan Full Strength short of Seventies staples George Roper, Bernard Manning, Colin Crompton et al; hand in pocket, sipping ale and effing his way through a ribald hour of stand-up threaded around a rude commentary on his boxing career.
"It's a rare opportunity to perform without someone tryin' to punch yer ------- teeth out."
"Can you imagin' finding Mike Tyson in bed with yer missus? You'd ------- tuck 'im in."
"You should see my missus. She's a babe. 'Ave you seen the film?"
Cambridge is not an obvious spot in which to roll out an evening with the Hitman. Given the number of cropped pates, the audience had probably not wandered in from Downing or Pembroke. These were Hatton's people, a demographic unique in British sport.
"I saw that Pavarotti before he died. Miserable ------ he was. He didn't like yer joinin' in, did he?"
You either laugh at this stuff or freeze. The delivery is dry as dust, a moderated version of the Chubby Brown genre beloved of the industrial north. In the post-war regional metropolis generations of soiled humanity sought refuge from the bump and grind of wage labour in the blue humour of Sunday afternoons at the Wheeltappers and Shunters.
Through a fug of cigarette emissions and imperfect eau de Cologne, comics would coil themselves around a microphone and make life for working men a little bit easier at the expense of the mother-in-law, ****sexuals and other **********. Hatton borrows heavily from that tradition, if not the material, which has not survived the PC shredder. And he's good.
"I really enjoy it. It gives people who normally see you only on TV a chance to come and get a picture, have a pint, mingle, stuff like that. A lot of celebrities in this world are like, 'don't take a picture of me, don't do this with me'. People find it refreshing. You can have a chat with them, take the ---- out of them in a friendly way."
Prefixed by that well worn expletive starting with an 'f' and ending in 'hell' the Hitman greeted his guests something like this: "------- hell, its Victor Meldrew. You all right pal? Nice to see you."
Or, "------- hell, its nice to have someone smaller than me. How are you pal? Nice to see you."
The queue for a picture with Hatton snaked down three flights of stairs. More than 200 out of an audience of 1,000-plus paid for the privilege. Backstage he put his name to everyone of them. "She can have a kiss," said Hatton, adding an X to the photograph of a girl who did not look a lot unlike Jennifer, the bespectacled brunette who shares his life.
"She looks after me. Since Jennifer moved in I've not put half the weight on that I normally do between fights. She cooks proper food, pasta and that."
The new domestic arrangements spell doom for the Hatton caricature immortalised in that celebrated corruption of the Jeff Beck anthem, Hi Ho Silver Lining, in which 'Ricky Fatton' travels the country in pursuit of obesity. The song accompanies Hatton at the start of his set. He is primed to enter stage left half way through, when the punters are by now well oiled in their hippy hats.
While all this is going on his father, Ray, waits for the call that will confirm the May 2 date with Manny Pacquiao. Boxing's new pound-for-pound sweetheart is wriggling on the end of a verbal agreement that according to Hatton's lawyer is binding. Money, as ever, threatens the peace.
"Look around you. You can see how many have turned out tonight. I sold out the City of Manchester Stadium in six hours, 55,000 people. Thousands follow me to Vegas. How many people does he bring from the Philippines? Not many.
No disrespect to Manny, he is a great fighter, and deserves his pound-for-pound accolade. But I bring as much to the table if not more than him. We agreed a 50-50 split. It's that or nothing."
Hatton has added Liam and Noel to his big-fight retinue. Veterans of the Vegas bout with Paul Malignaggi last November the Gallagher boys will top the list to carry Hatton's belts into the ring against the Pacman, should he soften his 60-40 demands. If nothing else they ought to stiffen the delivery of Blue Moon.
"The Oasis lads carrying my belts at the Malignaggi fight was amazing. It was one of best performances of my career bearing in mind a few people thought I was starting to look past it. They came to Vegas, carried the belt in. Then I flew to Mexico City with them. Watched them live. Then I flew to Vegas for the Pacquiao-De la Hoya fight and they were playing at the Palms Resort on the same night.
" I bet they thought I was stalking them. It was the best fortnight of my life. I was a fan of theirs for years before I met them. Now they are me pals. Stuff like that never ceases to amaze me."
That's why we love you Ricky, the reluctant idol. We await the Hatton invite to Primrose Hill. That would be a performance worth watching. Dropped aitches all round. In Cambridge he ran through the key nights of his career; Ben Tackie, Kostya Tszyu, Floyd Mayweather, Malinaggi.
The latter display, shaped by new trainer Floyd Mayweather Snr, lifted Hatton out of his post-Pretty Boy malaise. Before it, many wondered if his best days not behind him, Hatton included.
"I don't blame people for thinking I was going to get beat by Malignaggi. Against Juan Lazcano the fight before I was ill. What with that and the Mayweather fight the signs were that I was fading. I was thinking 'am I past it?'"
The split with trainer Billy Graham and the appointment of Mayweather Snr might yet extend his career beyond this year. After Pacquiao, Hatton wants to revisit his trainer's son on better terms, as a fighter with his brain engaged as well as his heart.
"I'd rather lose to him again than sit there in retirement never having tried. I can live with defeat, but I can't live with not having a go."
Hatton goes again next week in Cardiff, Portsmouth and Plymouth.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/oth...-on-stage.html
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