Damn you, Russell!

So my friends and I went to see Russell Brand last night. We had great seats, but five rows from the front. Mr Brand was on fire. I laughed non-stop for more than an hour and a half. I even caught myself slapping my thigh with enthusiasm. The man is a genius where comedy is concerned, buzzing with energy, skipping around the stage at the Enmore, all skinny and crazy-haired. I was hoping that—reference previous post—I wouldn't find him attractive in real life. But oh no, it was worse! And I wasn't the only one. I saw queues of women re-doing their make-up in the toilets after the gig, ready to queue up and wait for something to be signed. And the rest. I get the feeling when Russell said something along the lines of: "If you're looking at me thinking he's all famous and stuff and I'm probably not good enough, don't! You probably are," he wasn't joking. But I'm far too cool, and too old, for that starstruck hanging around after a show lark, so it was home and to bed (alone) for me. My last thought is this: how does (as my friend rightly pointed out) Russell Brand make being an absolute so-n-so so very endearing? The answer is charm, and he's got it by the bucketload. It seems the Aussies are really taking to him—in no small part because of his appearance on Rove—which is a testament to their sense of humour. Almost as good as the Brits'!