Eddie Izzard: Unrepeatable

'It's the beginning of the seventh week

'of my 1994 run in the West End.

'And, er, and we're recording it tonight.

'It's a groovy theatre. I like it.

'It holds about 900 people.

'And, erm, I'm enjoying playing it. It's a good one to play.

'You have to really lean back cos it's a tall theatre.

'It just goes up and up and up for ever.'

'The cameras being in, that is a pressure

'cos the audience, they think they're on telly and they seize up a bit.

'And for me it's a pressure cos this is the show everyone will remember.'

'Are you nervous about tonight?'

No, I can't afford to be, can I?

If I fuck up, I can't do anything.

We're doing it in one take. We get it in this.

We don't get it here, we don't get it.

Clear front of house. Thank you.

You're on.

Hmmm.

OK?

Stand by. LX cue two. LX two cue, go.

'Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Eddie Izzard.'

La, la, la... Well, God...

Whoa!

Jesus.

Hello. La, da-da, da-da

So, yes, well, er...

Showtime.

It's a crap beginning, just walking on and going like this.

I haven't got beginnings worked out.

If it's West End, people expect a huge beginning.

In a musical, 400 people will be on in the first number.

Even if the cast's only 30, 400 people on,

going, "It's Hollywood!"

They always go about three directions at once.

Or if it's a Shakespeare, in the West End, then there'd be moody lighting.

Three old people saying, "When shall we three meet again?"

"Tuesday?" "OK."

"I'll get back to you on that.

"I dropped my diary in the cauldron. Fucking hell."

If it was Pinter, then two people come on,

face different directions and...

I'm not sure. I haven't read his plays.

I should but, you know, certain people are widely read, I'm thinly read.

I've read fuck all. And I'm very proud of it.

People say, "I read Dr Bonowski's book on cat eating

"by...Mahaba..."

I just haven't read anything.

Even books... Cos I'm partially dyslexic.

I was fully dyslexic till someone more dyslexic said,

"You're only partially dyslexic."

There's a lot of rivalry in the dyslexic camp.

Rivalry with three Vs.

"How bad's your handwriting?" "Mine's all over the place.

"Huge loops."

Yeah, but it's done me all right.

So anyway, advertising.

That's what I brought you here to talk about. Advertising.

I've noticed that certain people in the advertising area

get paid huge wodges of cash in brown bags

in order to subtly adjust our minds.

Because in the old days, before the '50s, adverts were more blatant.

They were more, "Go on, there it is, come on. I haven't got all day."

And as consumers, we were much more, "OK, I didn't realise...

"Don't hit me."

Nowadays, we have choice.

We're more choosy and more aware of what we can buy,

so adverts are more subtle, the soft sell.

Adverts are much more like...

"Oh! Look at that.

"Those two people like it

"and they're shagging."

That's what happens. Shagging sells everything.

There's that coffee advert. "Cup of coffee? Let's shag."

Two bits of chocolate.

One eats one, one eats the other. "Let's have a shag."

That cleaning stuff. Clean the floor,

then you shag on the floor.

Dog food, dog eats dog food...

And, anyway. So ...

Not sure what happens there

but, yes, generally, generally.

Now, the washing area,

washing powder, launderette,

that's an advertising-led area.

Adverts say, "Wash your clothes

"or no one will shag you."

And if there wasn't all the advertising,

we'd just spray our clothes and go,

"That smells OK now it's been sprayed."

It's a ceremony. Washing your clothes.

You can take it down the launderette.

You usually get three months' worth of washing into a huge bag

and drag it down the launderette,

wearing clothes that should be in the bag, really.

That's what you wear to the launderette,

that's why you've gone, cos you've got nothing left.

You're wearing dressing gowns to work and stuff like that.

You throw it in the wash and they've got big machines,

huge machines with big porthole windows.

You shove it all in. Never separate out at a launderette.

And you've got one choice - bizarre wash.

You must sacrifice a few socks and a pair of pants to the god of launderette

who lives at the back of the machines with chopsticks.

"Ooh, lovely, yes.

"Sock, lovely. Bit of fabric softener. In it goes."

You shove your washing into a tumble dryer

and the tumble dryer glues it together with static electricity.

So that you get the washing out, put it on your head, walk home.

You put some socks on and the rest of the washing says, "We're coming, too."

"Piss off. Go home.

"Get off. I'm just wearing these."

"No, static."

You're trying to chat someone up. "I've been...

"Piss off.

"I don't know whose it is. It's stray, stray washing.

"Yeah, erm...

"Look, fabric softener. Go on, chase."

Or you can wash your clothes at home.

ln people's flats and houses, they have a machine

with a huge dial with all the letters of the alphabet on

and no instructions.

You've just gotta guess. You say, "I'll have an H wash."

That sounds fine. You stuff it all in

and you get it going and a pair of socks come in.

"Sorry we're late. Sorry.

"Lying in the dust at the back, where you left us.

"Has the programme started? For fuck's sake.

"How did it start?"

You let the socks back in to the washing

and they go, "'Scuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.

"We're supposed to be here. We got tickets, look."

Or you do a whites wash. "I will wash my white clothes."

You shove your whites in a pile

and you put some clothes in there which are almost white.

And then you think, "No," and you take them out.

"Actually, no, they'll be fine.

"All right, that can go in.

"I've washed it a few times now."

For a couple of days, you just go backwards and forwards

and then you shove it all in.

The coloured clothes say, "He is doing a whites wash first.

"That pisses me off.

"OK. Blue underpants, you will infiltrate whites wash.

"You are our best undercover clothing.

"We have forged papers.

"You will be disguised as a white handkerchief.

"These have been done up by Donald Pleasence.

"You've been practising the accent?"

"Yes, I have." "Very good. Now off you go."

Blue underpants goes... "Ooh, hello!"

Sneaks inside the white wash, usually inside a shirt.

Shirts are a bit dopey, aren't they? "Urrgh? Huh?

"Oooh? Oh, oh."

All gets in and whites wash goes in

and, as soon as the clothing starts going round

blue underpants comes up to the window and goes, "Hello!

"Hello. Blue pants here!"

"Blue pants in the whites wash. Get the blue pants out.

"ln emergency, break glass. Smash glass with axe."

Blue pants going, "I'm draining, I'm draining!"

If your clothes came out a vibrant blue, it would be fine.

But they come out a colour that's called, "Pants left in wash".

And people know and they point and go... "Yes, yes."

And then they stab you.

Apparently, sometimes.

In America. Erm...

Yeah. So, this is it. So, these adverts...

Now we're more sophisticated as consumers.

ln supermarkets, we read the labels.

"This jam is made by Nazis

"out of dead twigs, bits of mud and spit.

"Well, I don't think I'll have that one.

"This jam is made by groovy people

"out of fruit that agreed to be in the jam in the first place.

"Volunteer fruit.

"Better known as free-range fruit.

"Allowed to casually chat to chickens."

Free-range chickens are so pushy, aren't they?

They go, "All this field we range through now.

"We bought the next field. We range through there.

"The big house at the back, we've knocked that down.

"The farmhouse, yes.

"And that's our Range Rover over there."

Have you seen those Range Rovers with high seats and chickens driving along?

They've got such attitude. Keep winding down the window.

Depends how much you've smoked.

So, we are more sophisticated and the adverts are more sophisticated.

They have stories and graphics

and cryptic adverts where you have to work out what it's about.

Then you go, "I see." Then you don't buy it. That fucked up.

But the washing powder people have come to the conclusion

that we prefer this bloke with a clipboard we've had since the '50s.

Someone locked in a supermarket going, "Are you happy with your wash?"

Or on motorways, "Are you happy with your wash?

"Tell me, are you happy with your wash?"

You just... "Are you happy with your wash?

"Cheers. Thanks very much."

Small dog. "Happy with your wash?"

"I'm a dog. I don't know."