How Dave Chappelle [Kinda] Co-Wrote This Blog

When talking to most people about Dave Chappelle, it almost plays out like one of his Lil' Jon sketches;

“I've been to see Dave Chappelle.”
“WHAT?”

“I've been to see Dave Chappelle.”
“WHAT?”

“I have been to see Dave Chappelle.”
“OKAYYYY!!”
“Have you heard of him?”
“WHAT?”

“Have you heard of him?”
“”YEAHHHH!”

I personally feel like I shouldn't have to explain who Dave Chappelle is, but seeing as some people may not know [SHAME ON YOU!]; he's an American comedian and [in my eyes] he's easily in the Top 5 comedians alive and performing today.

He recently came to England... well London, but he's American, most of them think our country basically consists of fields, farms, forests and London, and to be fair they're mostly right.

This is such a rarity, I actually thought I'd never even get the chance to see the man perform. So when the tickets went on sale at 9.00am, I was obviously at work, but luckily for me my Brother From Another Mother was on hand to sit at his laptop, constantly refreshing the ticket sellers web-page and he sorted the tickets... like the legend he is.

Now as a notorious recluse, you may think the thought of me travelling to London would be somewhat difficult for me, and being in London even worse due to my distaste for flocks of human cattle, but I do quite like The Big Smoke. I especially love going on The Tube, I'm like an excitable child.

Although this could in part be due to my reasons for being in London in the first place, as the last two times I've been it was to see Chappelle and the time before that was to see Book of Mormon. So I was already in excitable child mode.

Dave, as I sometimes call him, was obviously performing at The London Apollo Theatre. Which in itself was quite exciting for the comedy fan boy inside of me as it's such an iconic stage that many comedians have graced over the years, so to sit inside the place was enough to have me grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat on ecstasy.

Yet imagine my elation once inside and discovering that me and my partner in crime where seated on the fourth fucking row! Fourth Row, Bitches! At this point I was more gob-smacked than Charlie Murphy after Rick James asked him; “What did the five fingers say to the face?” So I did what we all do in these situation and turned to social media to brag about it.

The expensive pints were flowing [Fuck you London prices!], by the time his opening act started. Donnell Rawlings kicked off proceedings. Rawlings is probably best known as Ashy Larry from numerous Chappelle's Show sketches. I've never seen him do stand-up before, but it's safe to say he set the tone perfectly for the big man to follow. 

And follow he did. Constantly chain-smoking. Which was a great nod to the last time he was in London and did a ten minute impromptu set in a comedy club.Click Here. 

The jokes came thick and fast as I sat in awe of the comedy legend. I'm terrible at remembering jokes, so sadly I can't share any, but when you're caught up the moment you're too busy having fun for information to permanently register in your mind. That's how comedy shows usually are, from my [drunken] experiences.

I did miss a slight bit of the show, as the constant laughing and beer swigging was wreaking havoc with my bladder, so I had to make a quick dash to the toilet and literally forced out my urine so fast I almost gave birth to my own bladder. Note to self; wear a colostomy bag for the next stand-up show I go to.

And before I knew it, it was over.

To the far right of us Chappelle had began to high-five and shake hands with members of the crowd and as he made his way across the stage towards us I saw my chance. So up I ran, out of my seat quicker than footage the World Championships of Musical Chairs in rewind, I Hussain Bolted all of those four strides to the front of the stage [Fourth Row, Bitches!], probably shrieking in a fanatic tone that would send a shuddering shiver down the spine of even the craziest One Direction groupie, a few others were had gathered to reach out towards my idol in the hopes of his touch would also grace them, but I would not be beaten... and in a scene reminiscent of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel's masterpiece... the Godly hand of Dave Chappelle reached out to the sweaty, trembling fan-boy hand of Ben Broughton and shook it.

If I wasn't paralysed by the sheer adulation of the situation, the shock of the whole experience would have opened my eyes so wide that my tear-ducts would have bled semen.

“So what happened next? How did he kinda co-write this blog?”

Well, I haven't washed my hand since.

The End. 

 

"I'm rich, biaaaaatch!"