An Evening With John Cleese

An Evening with John Cleese
Storyhouse, Chester
Monday 3rd November, 2025

Earlier in the year, I noticed that John Cleese was on tour, flogging his new book about Fawlty Towers. Interested, I looked at the initial dates and, while I was tempted by the Salford Lowry on 16th November, I wavered and decided not to go. From memory, I think the tickets were about £40 and included a copy of the book (it didn't specify whether the book was signed or not). When I looked, the only seats left were in the Gods. I thought I would just buy a signed copy of the book, and forget about paying the extra to see a stick figure talking about it.

A few weeks later, my local bookshop, Linghams in Heswall, sent out this e-newsletter to its loyal subscribers:

We have some HUGE news for you today!

Linghams & Booka are taking national treasure, John Cleese, to the Chester Storyhouse for an evening event.

Monday 3rd November, 7PM

Tickets are live from 10am on 19th June.
Log into Storyhouse, register and use LINGHAMS as your promo code to gain early access.

The fist 30 people to book will get a golden ticket and an opportunity for meet and greet photo opportunity.

I'll have a bit of that, I thought to myself. I have a hefty collection of celebrity signed books, and John Cleese is comedy royalty to me. I was ready at 10am on 19th June, and was lucky enough to capture a 'VIP' ticket at no extra cost.

So it came to pass that, last night, I attended the discreet book signing on the top floor of the Storyhouse in Chester. As I drove along the M56, I got to thinking about the curriculum vitae of the person I was about to 'meet'. Fawlty Towers is the obvious one, but I liked him in that film Rat Race as well, didn't I. And, my God, A Fish Called Wanda. Christ, he's a Python. And he was in that famous class sketch with the Two Ronnies, no less.

I arrive at Storyhouse and find my way to the vestibule area, where I spot a couple of familiar Linghams staff faces. So I know I'm in the right place. That was a good start. I am given a golden paper wristband with the initials V.I.P. printed in black ink. The lift that will take me to the top floor is pointed out to me. Unbeknown to me until that point, there is a second theatre space at the Storyhouse called the Garret. I sit myself down in the adjacent bar with the other twenty-nine of my fellow VIP's. I must note, though, that - like every other time I've been a 'VIP' at something - I feel less like a Very Important Person, and more like a 'Punter Who's Paid a Bit More'. (Though thankfully this one hadn't cost me). Somebody comes round with post-it notes, writing our names on them so we can place them on the page of the book where it will be signed.

It was a very discreet affair - over in a flash. Advertising it as a 'meet and greet' was perhaps a trifle misleading. Not quite a mingling with flutes of prosecco and plates of pate. The conveyor belt on The Generation Game would be a more apposite image.

We were informed that Mr Cleese will not pose for any photographs, but you may take a photo of him as he is signing your book. I don't have a problem with that at all - the man is 86 for God's sake, and I personally find posing for pictures terribly awkward, with a limited success rate. The staff are, perhaps understandably, jittery; lest we VIPs cause a nuisance or try to pinch any extra time than the few seconds we have been allocated. I think it is for that reason that I have felt compelled to take to Blogger to record my thoughts, so I can refer back to the moment for posterity and without corruption from a decaying memory through time. I have attended a lot of book signings in the past, and normally I wouldn't feel the need to do this. But the enormity of being in the same room as John Cleese only really hit me as it was happening. For me, this experience was nearly on par with something like encountering Laurel and Hardy. Got to be the biggest star I've ever met (if one can call it that). On the whole, it was a nice moment which I would like to remember with some accuracy:

'Andy,' he pondered, picking up my copy of the book. 'Most of the people I know are called Andy.'
    'That's understandable,' I offer, not knowing what the hell else to say. The book is signed, and I only have a matter of seconds left to make any sort of comment, before I am encouraged out of the room.
    'It's just a "thank you" from me,' I tell him. 'It means an awful lot to my family, this programme.'
    He returns a warm smile in acknowledgement. I am satisfied that I said the right thing and, moreover, that he genuinely appreciated the remark. With that, I scarper. 

I scuttle down a narrow corridor towards the small lift at the end, where the couple who were seen before me are waiting:
    'That was short and sweet,' the lady commented.
    'That's exactly what I was about to say, myself,' I reply.
    We concur that, while it was quick, an opportunity like that seldom comes around.

An Evening with John Cleese was brilliant, and I'm glad that I did get a ticket in the end. Would not have wanted to miss it. The stage was adorned with a big moose head, and a little 'Basil the Rat' positioned on a plinth. Graham McCann was a good, clear interviewer; and Cleese himself was charming, witty, and as funny as ever - gladly taking all questions coming from the audience. Sometimes when he erupted into laughter, I could hear the Basil Fawlty of old seeping out - and I don't think I was alone in that, judging by the audience reactions. Despite the standard 'no recording or photography' warnings, I did my usual of taking an audio with my iPhone. The evening was also filmed professionally, so I have no real need to write out any further details here. Except to say that, concluding the interview, Graham McCann commented that it was 'a privilege to enjoy his work, and an even rarer one to be able to thank him for it in person'. That final thought summed it up perfectly, for me.