Posted by On February 2nd, 2024 m’lady and I hopped, skipped and jumped a couple of hundred metres through a pleasant winter’s eve from our home to the Old Courthouse, where an evening of east-coast comedy was on the bill. The two-night run of comedy marked the reopening of the speakeasy/restaurant/sometimes venue after being closed for a month following a busy Christmas season, and we were eager to reignite our continued support for our new local watering hole.
That said, I had become a pretty big fan of the evening’s headliner Mike Lynch and his alter ego Cecil O’Brien, so I would’ve bought tickets for the show no matter where it was taking place, but we were happy that it was taking place at the Old Courthouse. We had become friends with the manager Steve and we had recently attended an Old Christmas party* at the home of the bar’s owners, Brenda and Craig (who own not only our little Old Courthouse but also several of the most popular pubs in St. John’s), so we were looking forward to seeing some familiar faces.
While the speakeasy is generally restricted to the bar and refurbished jail cells down in the basement, the comedy show took place upstairs in the old courtroom, where we were escorted to a small table for two right up front, hard stage right. Every table behind us was full, with about a hundred people seated in the spartan split-level space. We ordered a couple of pale ales, chatted with our seat-neighbours, and soon enough the show started.
First up was a comedian from Halifax who served as “host”, which is comedy-speak for “opening act”, or if you prefer: least experienced person on the bill. I don’t recall his name (which is the bane of most comedians, is it not?) but it matters not; he wasn’t very funny at all. Sure, he had an uphill battle given the crowd he had to work with (“Any locals here?” [crickets]; “Seriously, is anyone here from Harbour Grace?” [again, nothing but a vacuum of sound]; “You sir, where do you live?” “I’m not telling you.”) but he met the challenge with limp, disconnected jokes that featured increasingly indistinguishable punchlines. The struggle was real and it was easy to see on his face, especially from the front row.
Fortunately, the next act was a breath of fresh air that came as suddenly as a piercing breeze through an open window. In the first five seconds of his set Ganderite Liam Small had the whole room roaring about what life was like being a small guy named Liam Small. Not only did his opening salvo elevate the crowd over the lethargy of the first act, the whole bit was clearly designed to cement his name in our heads, a clever ploy for a plainly-named comedian. Small’s entire set was really quite funny. Then opening guy returned for a quick not-funny story and finally it was time for the meat and potatoes of the evening.
Playing on the name of a classic Newfoundland tv show called “Land & Sea”, the tour was billed as “Land & Cecil” starring both Mike Lynch and his alter-ego Cecil O’Brien, so we were treated to two sets from the headliner, the first in character as the old crotchety Newfie Bayman and the second from Mike himself, an accent-free Townie in his mid-thirties.
I first became aware of Mike Lynch during the pandemic, when long days isolating in my new home led me to deep youtube dives exploring my newfoundculture. What I found was a series of over-the-top typecast and heavily clichéd comedy sketches released under the name “The Outhouse”. Mike Lynch was often featured in these comedic shorts and of his many recurring characters Cecil O’Brien was a clear standout, probably because the extreme stereotype is so darn believable. Pop your head into any shed party across the island and you’ll surely find a Cecil O’Brien inside, bent crooked with age and telling tales in a rapid-fire, barely intelligible dialect peppered with many a “Yes, me son!” and a “Lard tunderin’!”
And clearly I wasn’t the only Cecil fan. As soon as Lynch shuffled out from the wings in Cecil’s plaid shirt and red Newfoundland Herald baseball cap the crowd screamed with delight. By the time he made it to the mic stand he already had the room howling. Then it was about forty minutes of dickie-bird this and yes b’y that and the crowd stayed with him the whole time, myself included. Even when his mic started cutting out for about thirty seconds every five minutes he kept the momentum going, eventually turning the technical difficulty to his advantage as any good comedian would do.
And speaking of good comedians, when Mike Lynch dispensed with his Cecil costume and returned for a second set (after a few more tepid minutes with our nameless host) he remained just as funny, proving that he can work a crowd without resorting to his cod-in-a-barrel character. But then I knew that; I’d seen him twice before and neither time did he perform in character.
Despite drinking steadily throughout the performance, when the show was over we weren’t, so after settling up with the waitress m’lady and I moved downstairs for a nightcap or three in the speakeasy. There we found owners Brenda and Craig sitting with Geoff and Laurie, a couple we had met at their Old Christmas party. We joined them and ordered a round. Soon Mike and Liam came and sat down with us (the host-who-shan’t-be-named was nowhere to be seen) and there went the next three hours.
Thankfully home was just a short stumble away.
*Celebrating “Old Christmas Day” on January 6th is a longstanding Newfoundland tradition, one that originated with the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in the 18th Century. Old Christmas Day marks the official end of the holiday season in Newfoundland, the last day to get your yaya’s out before the tree and the rest of the decorations get taken down and packed away for another year.
Todd Man Out 