Firstly, I should apologise.
I’m sorry to anyone who was sat near row E that was disturbed by my partner and I giggling like a couple of teenagers.
I don’t think I’ve had to suppress that much laughter since Year 10 French lessons.
For Sally Morgan was pure entertainment.
A ball of energy on stage, a real showgirl. She has you hooked from the start.
With fingers pressed to temples, she asked: ‘Who is George? I have a message from him?’
At which point we erupted in laughter. George is my cat’s nickname and I’m pretty sure his message was: ‘Where the hell are you?’
See, we had to stifle the giggles, as a woman swiftly stood up and said something along the lines of ‘That’s my granddad!’ and the mood turned rather more sombre when we heard about him dying on a table.
The night moved from serious moments with a message from someone who had committed suicide to more light-hearted moments with jokes about undiscovered affairs.
There was a lot of hit and miss, with first names banded about — John, Perry, Rita, insert generic grandparent name here.
However, there were a few touching moments, one where Sally correctly said someone’s full name and nickname and another where we heard about a man who had died in the Falklands.
All in all, great fun, but please do not go to her shows with high hopes of speaking to the dead. After all, it’s in a theatre, on a stage, with a huge audience, and it’s cracking entertainment