After five years of promoting his signature gig, Malky decided to hand the bulk of duty over to his regular compere, Chris Henry.
I have been attending gigs at The Halt for three of those years, and have seen it go from strength to strength. Dozens of other gigs have sprung up and died by the wayside, including nights Malky himself ran in other venues, and so it is something of an achievement that the weekly free Tuesday night event continues to pack out this west-end bar. Whatever your opinion of the man, or of the reputation his stage persona has, he managed to consistently find an audience and keep them coming back regularly.
Although I have been absent from the scene for months, through comedy fatigue and a loss of love for performing, it very quickly popped into my head that perhaps I should try and write Malky some kind of send-off poem. The precedent had been set when Chris himself left, bound for London to pursue his career. No sooner had the thought hit, than rhymes and couplets suggested themselves. There was such an abundance of ideas that eventually I sat down and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Three hours, two pages, and ten verses later, the first draft was complete. The second draft was mostly restructuring, making edits and choosing the best order for the verses to flow, and I contacted Chris to arrange things.
The first section would be a normal gig, a series of open spots performing material. Then there would be an awards section which, despite my reservations, was comparatively entertaining to witness. Finally, Chris would get Malky on stage in the third section, present an award to him, and hand over for his headline spot. I would be introduced to the stage just prior to Malky’s act, and I spent much of the evening – when questioned by friends and fellow comedians – lying through my teeth about having nothing planned. In total I confided in two, or at most three, people. The following, therefore, came as a surprise to almost everybody.
“The Malky Way.”
We’re gathered here tonight to say
Farewell to Malky, who’s on his way.
I’ve watched him gig two-hundred times,
And never seen him commit any of those crimes.
(So he’s clandestine.)
(Like a Lostprophet.)
I asked him why he’s leaving, folks.
He says work has left no time for writing jokes.
That left me buckled on the floor –
It’s never stopped the cunt before!
He’s promoted gigs near and far –
We’ve played the Bier Halle, and The Vicky Bar.
Buff Club too, and you cannot fault
The effort that man’s put in to making The Halt.
He’s been very fair, given everyone a shot.
He let Hobbit compere, and that says a lot.
He let new acts practice, he gave them the floor;
Some who got good now refuse to walk through that door.
Always on first, weekly, after the break,
He’ll do one joke, and a news stock-take.
You could never truly call him bitter,
For he delights in saying he’s been blocked on Twitter.
Whenever he compered, don’t be fooled –
As a warm-up man, he left the room cooled.
Amazingly, for all the deathly silence,
There were precious few gigs ended in violence.
(One or two.)
He took all our abuse with only good grace,
He’s been a great friend and a familiar face.
It’s gonna be weird when he’s not here –
But at least the girls can drink without fear.
(Unless Chris steps in.)
(Which is a possibility.)
Malky’s one of those old-fashioned guys.
Rohypnol? No, hoods and cable ties.
The infamous mating-call of that man
Was “Just eat the sweets, and get in the van.”
I say that he’s funny and, seriously, though,
He gets lots of laughs when he’s not here in Glasgow.
I’ve seen him do well in various places –
He’s not allowed back, but he did crack their faces.
But will the acts who now open our second half
Tread in his footsteps, and not get a laugh?
Perhaps in the New Year we’ll all get a shot
At killing the room in the famed “Malky spot.”
This heartfelt character assassination
Is in fact a celebration.
He’s given humour to the masses
And so I ask, please raise your glasses.
I think his girlfriend recorded my recital on her phone, but whether the video is any good or – crucially – the audio coherent, I don’t know.