nick730 (nick730) wrote,

The case of the West End flasher

Well as I mentioned earlier, last night was the first time I met a load of the lowculture forum regulars in real life, as a London meetup had been organised. About eight or nine guys and one girl turned up to the White Horse pub behind the Apollo Theatre. Everyone's saying it was a success and I certainly enjoyed myself, we found plenty to talk about, and hopefully there'll be another one soon (apparently there had been a real-life meetup once before, and based on the gap between these, the next one should be around 2017.) Although I was a bit disappointed to find out that, contravening every rule about people who spend their time on the internet repeating their favourite Miranda jokes, most of the LC denizens are skinny, in some cases even properly fit people. I was, of course, hoping for the traditional "people who need a crane to get them out of the sofa" so I'd look good in comparison. But they were nice people so I suppose I forgive them for their lack of physical hideousness.

Much as the evening was entertaining though, I think it's safe to say it will mainly be remembered for one thing. When you think of David Suchet, the actor best known for playing Poirot, you probably think of this:

I, and everyone else there last night, will now have a very different mental image though. Back in June I went to see Suchet and Zoë Wanamaker in All My Sons at the Apollo. The date's relevant - it means the show's been running there for some time (in fact it ends tonight) so Suchet should, by now, have worked out the geography of his dressing room. We were sitting upstairs in the pub, and having been standing for a while we finally got a table, by the window overlooking the Stage Door. After a while pondering over whether the Dyson fan¹ in one of the Apollo dressing room windows belonged to La Wanamaker, we got our first ever collective lowculture Sleb Spot, as it turned out we were right across from Suchet's dressing room. In the interval we could see him spending an inordinate amount of time fixing his hair (which, considering how little of it he has, was odd enough.)

It was all rather overshadowed about an hour later though, after the show had finished and someone said "Er, is that... naked Poirot?" Indeed, with the window wide open, there was Suchet after a shower, towelling himself off. And like I say, it's more than three months he's been working there, he must know by now that he's flashing the pub across the road. Being the restrained and timid people you'd expect from LC, we were all immediately up on our feet looking out of the window, to a general accompaniment of "Oh my god, I've seen Poirot's cock." Mercifully I wasn't looking at the moment a queasy-sounding voice announced "he's bending over!" but you can't say these things aren't educational: We now know that what hair he lacks on his head, he more than makes up for on his back.

This did rather overshadow us later seeing Zoë Wanamaker leaving from the stage door, little black cigarette clamped between her lips, and straight into a waiting car. Well, I think as a bonding experience for the board members it did the trick, but just think: Last year, in the same theatre, it was James MacAvoy. A couple of years earlier it was Joshua Jackson. We got Poirot. I can't help thinking our timing was a bit off.

¹I'd never heard of Dyson making fans; as far as I can tell, it's a fan that doesn't have an actual fan in it.
Tags: lowculture, social, spotted

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