During my time as a student in Cambridge, Christmas meant ‘Showtime.’ There was a tradition that medical students should put on a Christmas comedy show … but the clinical school was in its infancy at that time and, because there weren’t many students, we welcomed qualified docs, nurses, and anyone else who wanted to take part with open arms.
The formula for the success of the Addenbrooke’s Christmas Show was straightforward … lashings of bedpan humour plus the occasional mention of consultants’ names was enough ensure laughs. It wasn’t long before Sue and I were ‘an item’ and she had some acting experience so she quickly became a mainstay of the cast.
There was also the occasional pantomime for the kids who had to stay in hospital over the Christmas.. On one occasion, a senior surgical registrar dressed as an ugly sister was called urgently to theatres just as we were about to start. A patient needed a splenectomy and his junior hadn’t done one before. In what seemed like no time at all he was back and we were up and running.
As time went by we developed delusions of grandeur and decided we would take the show to the Edinburgh Fringe. In order to attract audiences we called the troup The Cambridge Revue. We found a big hall in which to stage the show. It was a massive undertaking transporting the cast, the sets and props etc up to Edinburgh but we managed it. We also went to town on the publicity because, even at that time, (1977) we were competing with hundreds of other fringe groups for an audience. There was no internet then but we got good radio and newspaper coverage.
We used quotes which went down well with the Edinburgh audiences – particularly a ‘made up’ one featuring the leader of the ‘Clean-Up TV’ pressure group. It ran as follows: “Good clean family entertainment – I laughed ‘till my tits ached. Mary Whitehouse.”. We followed this up with a quote from Una Flett who had been a ballerina in her youth and was at that time The Scotsman’s ballet critic. She was not, therefore, someone who would willingly submit herself to medical humour. She gave us the best review we could have expected from someone who preferred highbrow productions: “Once you have given up all hope of the ideal fast moving entertainment, sit back, relax, and let this amiable group wash over you”. From that we extracted the quote: “The ideal fast moving entertainment – The Scotsman.” That sounds a bit naughty but everyone else was doing it at the time.
Audience size didn’t always equate with long-term success, however – Tom Stoppard’s play ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead’ premiered to an audience of seven of which six were critics. We played to an audience of 400 plus every night – bolstered by the genuine good crits we received.
Needless to say, we had to broaden the scope of the shows as clearly medical in-jokes and consultants names were not going to be enough to guarantee laughs when we weren’t playing to a tame audience.
We put on shows at the Edinburgh Fringe for three years running and went on to a variety of other theatres including the Roundhouse, the Duke of York’s and the Shaftesbury … before giving it all up and reverting to the day job. Christmas at Greenwood Surgery: The practice always had a Christmas meal to celebrate getting through another year. These were jolly affairs in local restaurants but there was nothing that set them apart from what others were doing. They were transformed, however, by a bit of bad luck. One year we booked a restaurant as normal and rang to check that all was well the day before … only to be told that our booking had been cancelled and there was no way we could be squeezed in as all the tables had been rebooked. There was no hope of booking an alternative restaurant at short notice at such a busy time of the year. We never found out how the cancellation came about. The assumption was it was because a member of staff got himself into a difficult situation and left the practice – and, although he went of his own accord, he seemingly wasn’t entirely happy. It was assumed that this was his way of waving two fingers at us.
We decided the only option was to hold the dinner at the practice. The staff immediately snapped into action and provided cutlery, crockery, hostess trolleys, foldable tables, and table cloths, etc. The meal was a Chinese take away and, because we had saved a fair amount of money by opting for a DIY dinner, we spent what we saved on additional booze. Because there was no one to look on and criticise we were able to let our hair down – people did ‘turns’ and Kate Bronsden created a quiz which went down very well. At the end we decided unanimously that it was the best Christmas meal we’d ever had … and so a trend was set.
Dr John Cormack