Lee Mack, star of BBC comedy shows 'Not Going Out' and 'Would I Lie To You?', delivers his high-energy banter and sharp one-liners to venues across the country on his 'Going Out Live' tour.
Lee Mack

This programme contains strong language


Over 100 dates across the country but this is the big one, the one he’s really been looking forward to, the best town on the tour, yes, we’re here in… Hammersmith. Yes, wonderful, beautiful, amazing… Hammersmith. Famous, of course, for its fantastic… Flyover. And its absolutely superb… Bus station. And let’s not forget its brilliant, breathtaking, awe-inspiring… Cheap heroin. So, now, please welcome to the stage, Mr Lee Mack!


I did say no kids. I don’t mess about! Read the leaflet. I don’t print them for my own good! You’ll never see him again and it’s your own fault. Let’s start with some audience participation. What’s your name, mate? Dan. Have you ever changed a light bulb? Yes? Did you do it on your own? Yes, and that’s what’s making this country so great! Let’s hear it for the Dan!


Well done, Dan. That’s the end of the audience participation. So, how many paedophiles does it take to change a light bulb? One. It’s people like you that are ruining this country, Dan! So, this DFS sale…’s dragging on a bit, innit? That one bloke who paid full whack, he must be kicking himself. Welcome to the show. New jokes, new tour. Some of them’ll work, some won’t. But like my mum used to say, if you throw enough shit, some of it will stick. I used to say, “Come on, Mum. Can’t we get a PlayStation?” There’s…there’s different types of jokes, a bit of observational, not too much. It’s too hard to write. You’re supposed to talk about stuff you’ve noticed. My problem is I don’t notice anything cos I don’t do anything. A lot of comedians will talk about going to the supermarket. I do all my stuff online. A lot of comedians will talk about their sex lives. Same problem. But at least it’s my own material. That’s the main thing. You can’t do cover versions, not in comedy. It’s not like music. Imagine if I got up here and started doing Richard Pryor’s material. It would be indefensible. Trust me, I know, I’ve tried. I got booed off stage and told by the other comedians I was a disgrace to the profession. I’ve even tried it without blacking up.


There will be some bad language. That’s the new rules of comedy, you’ve got to tell people in advance about bad language. You can’t watch a TV programme now without being warned. I’m not sure we need those warnings. People swear all the time in real life and you don’t get warned about that. It’s not like people come up to me going, “Lee, it all kicked off in the pub last night. Let me tell you about it “in a story which contains strong language from the start… “and scenes of a sexual nature… “and flashing lights. “So, there’s this prick, he gets his cock out and I hit it with a torch.”


Talking of bad language, this is true… Part of the tour, we had a signer for the deaf on stage. I learnt some swear words in sign language. For example, did you know that this is sign language for shit? I thought, that must be horrible if you’re deaf and you cut yourself shaving. Oh, shit. [HE SCREAMS] Honest to God, at one point, I said, “Bollocks.” He went like this… I said, “Mate, bollocks, not elephantitis.” I said, “If that’s bollocks, what’s juggling?” And he went… So, basically, sign language for, “Hello, can I have a look at you juggling?” Is exactly the same as, “Hello, can I have a look at your testicles?” I thought, that must be awkward if you’re a deaf children’s entertainer.


That was wanker, obviously. I can’t help thinking though, if that’s bollocks, maybe this should be wanker…


Oh, you’re back. You’re back! The kids are back. Well done, mate. I feel bad now. You missed the beginning of the show. I’ll fill you in. You haven’t missed much. Dan’s a paedophile. You were safer in the box! I’m obsessed by the whole swearing thing. In the newspapers, they do the asterisk. F, asterisk, asterisk, asterisk. We know what it says. We can still read. What’s the point in covering it up? When we get to it, we don’t go, “F-asterisk-asterisk-asterisk.” We know what it says. So they’re covering it up but we can still hear it. What’s the point? That’s like me going on Songs Of Praise and going, “Hello, Aled. I’d like to dedicate this next hymn to my father. He really was a great man. “I say great, every now and again, he was a little bit of a BLEEP. Is that all right? “Covered it up when I said it. Is that all right? Get off me! “What’s your problem? Thora Hird used to let me say it. You… “Get off me.” I’m so sorry. This is such a posh, pleasant sort of gig. What are you doing drinking? Can you drink in here? Oh, you can. I like a drink. I joined a wine club recently. We meet every morning at nine o’clock in the park. I’m obsessed with drinking. I was in the Queen’s Head recently. Prince Philip wasn’t happy. And we were talking about the phrase – “pissed as newts”. You don’t hear that any more, do you? Pissed as newts. People used to say it all the time. I’ve come to the conclusion that all the newts got together and said, “Right, lads. “We… [SLURRED SPEECH] ..are going to have to sort ourselves out, “because apparently… “we’re getting a terrible reputation.” And the other one’s gone, “What are we going to do with all this booze?” And the other one’s gone, “Oh, I don’t know. “Pour it down that rat’s arse.”


I love it when the government’s always trying to get involved. The Conservatives said, we’re going to reduce binge drinking by increasing the tax on alcopops. How’s that going to help, increasing the tax on alcopops? Two fat women lying in the gutter at two in the morning. “Are you all right, Sandra, love?” “Aye, I’m fine. “Just go and get us another bottle of hooch, you daft bitch.” “You sure yous want one?” “Aye. Why not?” “I’ll tell yous why. “You know the government have raised duty on alcopops by 12.5%?” HE GASPS “He’s what?! “That is totally disproportionate to the rate of inflation. “Especially when you consider the current fiscal quota. “12.5% increase on the already steep price of £2.70 a bottle. “Why, that’s an increase of almost 33.1 pence on every unit price. “And that sort of inflationary rise “is not just steep, it’s totally unsustainable “in a modern, Western, democratic economy. “Nah, forget it. “Go get us a bottle of water instead. “I’m going to go home and have a long hard look at my life.”


“Actually, before you go, Sandra, love. Can you give us a hand? “I think I’ve got a kebab stuck up me fanny.”


I didn’t need to use a Geordie accent. That was a stereotype. I thought I’d play safe. We haven’t got any Geordies in tonight, I assume? All right! We have! Bloody hell. Someone in London’s having an extension done. I read an interesting fact about Newcastle the other day. If you took all the chips that were eaten in Newcastle on a Friday night and put them in a pile, they would reach out and grab those chips back. It’s a fact. I read that! What’s your name, madam? Sorry? Charlene. How are you, Charlene? Nice to see you, Charlene. Can I ask you a question? How old are you? Sorry, that’s a very rude question. I meant to say, how heavy are you? Sorry. How… How old are you? 23! Wow! I’m not going to lie, this joke isn’t going to work. I thought you were older.


Perfect, you’ll do. I’m joking! We’ll edit it in, it’ll be fine. I’m joking. At least you didn’t say 29. I wouldn’t have believed you. Never trust a woman if her age ends in nine. That’s what they say. Cos if a woman says 39, they mean mid-40s. If they say 29, they mean mid-30s. If they just say nine, you shouldn’t be making enquiries. Hope you’re listening to this, Dan. I’m 41 now and I find as I’m getting older, I’m turning into my dad, cos I’ve started fancying my mum. I’m joking! He never fancied me mum. It was always me sister. Oh, come on! A bit of incest, goes back generations in our family, doesn’t do any harm. Apart from my sister’s webbed feet. We used to tease her but she got the last laugh. She was the only one who could keep away from dad in the swimming pool. I’m obsessed with age. There was a woman on the radio, 80 years old. They said, “How do you feel now you’ve turned 80?” This woman said, “I feel exactly the same now as I did when I was 14.” Everyone went, “Oh, isn’t that lovely.” Then I thought, no, it’s weird. I’m sorry, but if you feel exactly the same at 80 as you did when you were 14, you have wasted your life. You’re supposed to grow old, mature, get wise. Who wants to go to their nan and go, “What did you do today?” “I loitered outside the off-licence, bit of shoplifting, “then I got fingered behind Tesco’s.” Who wants to hear that?! Nobody! Here’s a moral question about age for you. How old do you have to be before a girl is allowed to have her ears pierced? 14. 14? Who said that? Thank you very much. That is exactly what I said and I got told I was an old fuddy-duddy and stuffy. There’s someone in this world who’s got the same morals as me. Thank you, madam. Cos my girlfriend wants to get her ears pierced, right… Is this your other half, Charlene? Yes, and is he older or younger? He’s older. Hello. How much older? [INAUDIBLE] How many years? 13 years! 23… Sorry, I’m trying to work out if that obeys the French rule. You know the French rule? Have you heard of France? The French rule? The French say you can’t go out with anyone that’s younger than half your age plus seven. They’ve all got their own rules. The Thai rule, half your age and half again. The Austrian rule, half your age and down six flights of stairs. The Chinese rule… Well, they will eventually. The Geordie rule, forget the age, count the teeth. But it’s mainly the French rule. Why we’re listening to the French, I’ll never know. I’ve never trusted the French. The things they do to us. Writing C on the hot tap… C for cold, F for fucking hot and they swap it round. I’m not an idiot. And they nick all our words, like bananas. What do they do? Get rid of the letter B, call them, ananas. And they’re horrible! They taste like pineapples.


Everyone goes on about the French, the French fancy food. “Ooh, we love fancy…” No-one really likes fancy. They pretend to like fancy food, like caviar, grown inside a sturgeon. I would rather have the fish. Truffles, sniffed from the ground by an old sow. I would rather have the pig. Oysters, collected off the ocean bed by a half-naked Filipino boy.


I prefer a takeaway. I love Subway. I love that new campaign Subway’s got. “We make the sandwich the way you want it.” I thought, that’s very generous of you. I’m glad I didn’t come when it was the old system. “Can I have a cheese sandwich, please, with tomato and mayonnaise?” No. “Why not?” “Cos that’s not the way Keith likes it.”


“Who’s Keith?” “Bloke down the road.” “Well, how does he like his cheese sandwich?” “With tomato and mayonnaise. “But no cheese.” “That’s not true, is it?” “No.” “You don’t know anyone called Keith, do you?” “No.” “What’s going on?” “We’ve run out of cheese.”


Hello, madam in the front row holding onto your bottle. Madam, how are you?


You just did that great thing women do in the front row, which I always like. I’ll talk to them, then they look at me and slightly glance down and back up again, thinking, “He’ll be gone when I look back.” You’re not blind, are you? That would be very awkward. Is this your other half? Are you sure you’re not blind? Only joking. You look great. I’m looking at what you’re wearing, madam. You’ve gone for a massive white belt, and this long hair with a sort of diagonal fringe. Then that grey thing, with a sort of dress over the top. It gets me very confused. I’m looking at it and I’ll be completely honest with you, I’m thinking, “What are you thinking about?” I look at you and think, “What are you thinking about?” What are you thinking about?! I don’t like it. So, good evening, welcome to the show. I’d rather be honest. I’m joking. She looks great. That was my experiment. That was my little experiment for the night. She looks great. But did you feel the tension in the room? I called Dan a paedophile, I said I once blacked up… Nothing. I don’t like what she’s wearing… “He’s a BLEEP monster!” I do like what she’s wearing, but what if I didn’t? It would be my taste against her taste. If I said, “What would you like to eat?” And she said, “Rhubarb.” And I said, “I don’t really like rhubarb.” You wouldn’t all go, “It’s kicking off! “What’s going to happen?!” If you think about it, that’s more important cos we’re talking about food, stuff you put inside your body. Which brings me onto my main point. Him. What are you thinking about?! Look at him! His hair’s different colours! Are you a local lady, madam? Where are you from? Mordor? Sorry, where are you from? Oh, you’re from Milton Keynes. I was right first time. Milton Keynes. Very nice. That’s the important thing. You’ve got to live in a nice area. It doesn’t matter about your house or your flat, it’s the area you live in. It’s like Kirstie Allsopp always says on Channel 4, “Location, location, location.” But we all know what she’s actually thinking is, “Biscuits, biscuits, biscuits.” “Oh, Phil, I don’t like these bevelled floor boards.” “Well, they were all right before you came in, Princess.”


“Come on, Kirstie. Head out of the fridge. Let’s have a look upstairs.” “Biscuits!” Did you read about that? Biscuits are the most dangerous product in the house. They cause more admissions to accident and emergency than any other product. People give a biscuit to the dog, they get bitten. They dip the biscuit in the tea, they get burnt. It’s not a laughing matter. My mum was seriously injured cos of a packet of Rich Tea biscuits. She was supposed to get me Jammy Dodgers so I punched her in the face. I live in a nice area now. I moved to the west of London. It’s quite nice but like anywhere in London you’re only ever five minutes away from a red light area or something. Not but I’ve got a problem. I don’t know what your opinion on the subject is. Personally, I’ve always thought prostitution should be cheaper. Legalised! I said legalised, by the way, not eagle eyes. I don’t think prostitutes should have eagle eyes. Maybe they should have eagle eyes and then when they go down on you, you can do that and they can keep a look out for the police.


I had to move out of the East End, though. It’s the Cockneys. I get confused with Cockneys. Cockney rhyming slang to me, it’s very confusing. It’s particularly confusing if you’re the person the Cockney rhyming slang is named after. I mean, Hank Marvin. He must spend his life introducing himself to people…


..and people going… ..”I can get you a cheese sandwich or something.” Not everyone’s from London tonight. I can tell. Half of you knew that Hank Marvin means starving, and half of you got confused then, cos half of you think Hank has got something to do with wank. Is that the problem with that joke? I can almost hear the conversations. “I don’t get that one, Trevor. Do you?” “No, my darling. “Why give Hank Marvin a cheese sandwich if he wants to masturbate?” “I was wondering the same thing. Maybe the sandwich is for Cliff Richard. He was in The Shadows.” “Yes. He’s all right, this fella, but he’s no Jethro, is he?” “No, he’s not.” “He’s trying hard. He is trying hard.” There’s lots of famous people in Cockney rhyming slang now. Samantha Janus. She’s Cockney rhyming slang. She is, officially. Oh, good, you got that one. She’s changed it now. She sometimes says, “Samantha Jan-us.” You can’t change your surname cos it sounds like something rude! Ask my mate, Billy Hucked-Her-Up-The-Arsehole. He’s not been able to change his name, just cos Billy rhymes with Willy. What are the rules?! It’s a rip-off, living in London. I rung up for some car insurance the other day. I said, “How much would it be to insure my car?” This bloke said, “Do you park it in the street?” I said, “Yeah, I’m having problems squeezing it into the spare room.” He said, “As opposed to a garage?” I said, “Yes, I park it in the street.” He said, “Is it a well-lit street?” I said, “No, it’s a dark street.” He said, “Oh, dear. Have you got any security on it? Any car alarms?” I said, “Nothing.” He said, “What area in London do you live in?” So I told him my address and he came round and nicked it. Rip-off! You go to the mechanics… Do this one. I love this. It’s my favourite practical joke. I did this last week. I said, “There’s something wrong with my car. It keeps going…” [WHIRRING] He said, “That’s your clutch.” I said, “No, it’s not the clutch. It keeps going…” [WHIRRING] He said, “Yeah, hat’s your clutch.” I said, “No, it’s not. It keeps going…” [WHIRRING] He said, “It’s your clutch! I said, “Will you stop interrupting me? “I’ve got a stutter.”


“It keeps going… WHIRRING “..really slowly up hills!”


He said, “Yeah, that’s your clutch.”


I hate the rip-off you get in London. You get it all over Britain now, the hard sell on the phone. “Do you want to switch your gas to the electric? Switch your electric…” I’m taking this off, can’t sustain this for an hour. [WOLF WHISTLE] Don’t patronise me. I know it hasn’t worked out. I bought the suit, looked at myself in the shop and I thought, “I’ve got a bit of the Al Pacinos going on.” I looked backstage and realised I’ve ended up looking like a very unsuccessful regional snooker player.


The telephone hard sell is the worst in the world. This is a true story. I was lying in bed the other day with a hangover. Yeah, it’s awful when your cock’s so big it won’t stay in the bed.


I’m glad I didn’t say a stinking hangover. And I knew straightaway this bloke was trying to sell me something with his opening line cos he said, “Hello, sir. How are you today?” I said, “No, thank you.” He genuinely got the hump and said, “No, thank you what?” I said, “Sorry. No, thank you, please.” He said, “I’m phoning from EDF.” I said, “I’m not interested.” He said, “I haven’t told you what it is yet.” I said, “I know why you’re ringing. “To offer me a free season ticket to Wembley, plus unlimited access “to dirty Brenda’s all-night knocking shop with as many chocolate hobnobs as I can eat.” He said, “No, I’m not. I’m ringing to talk about your domestic fuel bills.” I said, “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?! “Keep talking, son.” He said, “Well, sir…” cos he didn’t get the sarcasm. He said, “How would you feel about paying less for your gas?” I said, “Honestly?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “I reckon, I’d feel exactly the same “but I’d be paying less for my gas.” He said, “Can I ask, who’s your current supplier?” I said, “It’s Gypsy Dave, he comes round on a moped every Thursday.” I said, “Sorry! I thought you meant electricity.” I said, “It’s British Gas.” He said, “Can I ask why you chose them, sir?” I said, “Well, it’s a funny story. “I needed some gas and I live in Britain, and I don’t know “what it was but they seemed to be ticking all the right boxes.” At this point, he genuinely got the hump. He said, “I’ll phone someone else who’ll answer my questions less sarcastically.” “You can. They’ll be less sarcastic. They’ll probably stay on the phone longer, “but they’ll end up saying no anyway. “I don’t know who’s providing your current rejection “but if you switch to me, I would combine the sarcasm “with the rejection and save you 15% a year on your cold-calling time.” Do you know what he did then? He tried to offer me Nectar points! Let me tell you something about Nectar points. I spent the last two years collecting Nectar points. Do you know how many I’ve got? Enough for a tiny little jar of honey! I’d be better off collecting nectar!

I’m glad you laughed at that joke because I did it in Ireland a month ago and it got fuck all. We did Dublin for two nights. I did the same joke. Get off stage, a bloke went, “You know that joke about the Nectar points and the honey? “I know why it didn’t get a laugh.” I went, “Why?” He went, “They don’t have Nectar points in Ireland.” What are you telling me now for after the gig? Wipe that smirk off your face! He said, “Don’t worry. Tomorrow night, say Tesco points.” I don’t know what’s worse. The fact he suggested that or the fact that half of you are now staring at me going, “Well, what happened? Did it work?” “Did it work the next night? What about Asda points? “They’ve all got an Asda. Come on, mate, stay with it. Go on. “Don’t leave us hanging.” Cos that’s how they speak in London. Sorry for locking you in the box, by the way, lads. Sorry about that. What’s your name, mate? Nathan. Nafan? N-A-F-A-N, yeah? And, er… How old are you, Nafan? 12. 12. Wow. Did you have a nice Easter? Was it under the plant pot? It’s always under the plant pot, isn’t it! And, um… Do you, er… Do you like music? What kind of music are you into? Rock. Rock. I like rock. I like U2, they’re my favourite rock band. There was a documentary the other day about U2. Does anybody know the real name of Bono, the lead singer? It’s not his real name, obviously. Does anyone know what Bono’s real name is? Wanker! Calm it down, Tourette’s man, I’ll be with you in a minute. You see that documentary about Tourette’s? How funny was that? They’ve given him a dog now! How’s that possibly going to help, does he blame the dog? “Fuck off! Not me, Charlie. “Cheeky Charlie, talking to the nice lady like that. Shit-flaps! “Come on, sit down. No sausages!” They put him next to the busiest dual carriageway with a dog, and he’s got Tourette’s. “It was awful, he just stood there the whole time going, “Come on! Wait. “Come on! Wait. Come on! Wait.” The dog’s going, “I hate being your dog! “Giving me fucking Tourette’s.” So, yes, the real name of the… The lead singer was Paul what? Paul Hewson. Paul Hewson, right. It’s not a joke. I just want to make sure that turd in a box goes to the right address, cos I’m not a fan. I like The Edge, or as he’s known in France, L’Edge. At least they’ve learnt their number one lesson – never sing in your own accent. That would just sound awful, wouldn’t it? The only part of the world that hasn’t learnt this is Manchester. They insist on northernering it up, like Elbow.

[NORTHERN ACCENT] # Blinking in the morning sun… # Look at me, I’m a fucking northerner. # I’m blinking in the morning sun # I’m blinking in the morning sun. # Oasis were the worst, of course. # In the sunshiiiiiiine! # That bloke was constipated with Manchesterness. That’s why he had to leave. He did a massive poo and it was all over. # In the sun… # Bwwwrrpt! “Oh, I say, that feels a lot better, Noel. “I’m off. Toodle-pip.” 10CC – they were from Manchester. 10CC didn’t sing in a northern accent, did they? Then again, you can’t sing that classic song I’m Not in Love with a northern accent.

[NORTHERN ACCENT] “I’m not in, love! I’m not in, love! “Brian! I’m not in, love! “I’m in the shed.” “What are you doing in there?” “It’s just a silly phase I’m going through.” Talking of music, I’ve been hobnobbing with the stars. When I say hobnobbing with the stars, I don’t mean eating chocolate biscuits with Kerry Katona. That’s a battle you’re never going to win. It was a few years ago. It was, actually, true story, the last one-night stand I had before I met my current wife, or as I should probably start calling her, wife. It’s a true story. I had a one-night stand with a very famous pop star. I don’t mind telling you who it was. It was with the pop star, Pink. True story. It is! It IS! The weird thing was I didn’t even fancy her, but I’m a massive fan of snooker and six points is six points, isn’t it? I was going through a weird phase that year – trying to sleep with everyone represented on the snooker table. I slept with Sarah Greene, Sarah Brown, the boy band Blue. I even changed my sexuality to achieve my targets. You think that’s odd? I shagged Cilla Black! You know what they say – once you’ve had black, you never go back. I couldn’t think of anything for yellow so I just had a wank while watching The Simpsons. The only downside is in-between every colour I had to sleep with Mick Hucknall from Simply Red. But it’s a very sad time for music. A very sad time because of the death of Michael Jackson and, er…


You get these comedians, don’t you, who do these cheap and pathetic jokes about Michael but you won’t be getting that from me, ladies and gentlemen, because… ..because Michael was a… because Michael was a mentor… HYSTERICAL [LAUGHTER] Fuck off, it’s the serious bit! Sorry. Michael was a…


Get out and show some respect. In fact, do both. Get out the whole way like this, all the way to the door. You’re talking about the man I love! The things that were said about Michael – the lies, the untruths. Makes me sick. I was reading today on the internet, right, on his wikipaedophile page… Wikipedia! ..the lies, the things people say about him. “He was on drugs.” Oh, he was on drugs, was he? You’re talking about a man who didn’t even have sugar in his coffee. Do you know why? Because he was sweet enough. Didn’t even have milk in his coffee. Do you know what amazed me about Michael Jackson’s death? This country must hold the world record for the shortest bereavement a country has ever had. I timed it. From the announcement of the death to the first joke text. 22 seconds! “I heard he had a stroke in the children’s ward.” What is it about technology that turns you into the sickest f… in the world? Will somebody tell me when it became socially acceptable to send pictures of dwarves fucking ponies to everybody else in the office? When did that become normal? Yes, it’s on a computer but it’s still a photograph, you freaks! We couldn’t do that before computers. “What have you brought into the office?” “I brought a photograph, boss.” “Do show us, it’ll be such fun.” “What’s that, you weirdo? I hate computers. It’s all the little terminology that they use. The little terminology. I rung up for some help the other day on my website. I said, “I can’t get into my website.” This bloke said, “Have you tried disabling cookies?” I said, “I once bit the legs off a gingerbread man.” It’s a nice spotty dress you’ve got on there, madam. It’s very spotty, isn’t it? I’m not looking at your tits. I’m trying to find out if I’m colour blind. What’s your name, madam? Liz. Liz. Know what I’m thinking of being? A quiz show host. Think I could make it? Are you feeling lucky, Liz? Cross your fingers. Are you superstitious? Superstition. Like my sister. When we were kids, she was so superstitious she wouldn’t even have 13 as her unlucky number because she said it would crop up too much in life. She decided that her unlucky number was going to be 737. She died in a plane crash.

This is the rules, Liz. I’ll give you the names of three famous people. I want you to tell me where they were born. The clue is in the name of the person. The clue’s in the name of the person and you tell me where they were born. Here we go. It’s football. Looking for the name of the country – the footballer, Stephen Ireland. Where was he born? Stephen Ireland. We’re looking for the name of a country. Where was he born? Ireland! Ireland! She’s got the first one right, let’s hear it for Liz. You can do this, Liz. The second one is the poet, John Welsh? John Welsh. Where was he born? What country? Wales! Wales! That’s two, come on! You can do this, here we go. For tonight’s star prize. OK. No shouting out, you can ask the people around you. Here we go. The name of an island. We’re looking for the name of an island. It’s the soul singer, Barry White. Where was he born? The soul singer. It’s the name of an island. Barry White. Barry White, where was he born? The Isle of Wight? The Isle of Wight! She’s got… No, she’s got it wrong. Barry Island. You were that close, weren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll give you another chance. We played the porn star name game on the tour. The best porn star name gets a prize. You know the porn star name game – it’s your first pet and mother’s maiden name. You play those rules? Yes, you do. What was your first pet, Liz? This could be your moment. What was your first pet? This could be comedy gold. What was your first pet? A dog. A dog. Not… The name of the pet! First you didn’t hear the Isle of Wight and now you can’t… That’s not going to work as a porn star name, is it? “Hey, baby, what’s your name?” “A dog!” “A dog!” What was the name of the dog? Harry. Harry, perfect. Harry! You’ve had the last five minutes to think. You could have said Fluffy or Trixie or Pussy, no, no, no. What do we get? “Harry. Deal with that.” I hope to God your mother’s maiden name is Fuck-flaps, otherwise this is going nowhere.

I don’t know why I bother playing the porn star name game. Honest to God, I said to my wife recently, “What’s your porn star name?” My wife said, “Anal Ventures.” I said, “Love, your first pet was not called Anal. “Your mother’s maiden name is not Ventures. “Play the game.” She said, “What game?” I was lying in bed, right, with my wife, the other day, and… ..we were talking about… sexual fantasies. And I said…that during sex, I’d always quite liked the idea of… know… turning into Leonard Rossiter. “Have you… Have you…” “Have you…” “Have you…” “Have you… Have you…” “Do you ev… C…can I…” “Can I stick it up your Miss Jones?” And… I said I’d… I’d always quite liked the idea of… you know, getting someone else involved. And she said, “No chance! You can carry on doing it on your own.” That’s the problem after a while, it’s the romance that goes, isn’t it? You do your best, but it goes. It always backfires when I do my best. I said, “What do you mean, more romantic?” She went, “Surprise me, come home with wine, a DVD, write secret notes.” The next night, I came back with a bottle of Blue Nun and a porno film and I wrote a note on the door saying, “Do not disturb,” right? Still nothing. So I made the effort. I thought, “I’ll be romantic, I’ll take her away.” I’d been saying it for ages, I finally did something about it. Actions speak louder than words. Not always, obviously. Not if you want to say, “Look out for that truck!” Use words, obviously. The last thing you want to see just before you die is a man playing charades. “Five words, first word…” “Oh, you bastard.” There’s loads of phrases I’ve never understood. “One swallow does not make a summer.”

It’s a bloody nice start, though, be honest. So, I take her to Westwood Ho!, right? Westward Ho!, famous for being the only place name in Britain with a punctuation mark at the end. Apart from Newcastle, it’s got a question mark. I take her to Westwood Ho! We’re on the beach. Do you ever do that thing where you have a debate and it turns out to be a big row? A nice friendly debate, a big row. I thought I’d made a good point. We’re walking along the beach and I said, “Interesting, isn’t it? “That if a woman walks down the beach and she was wearing bra and knickers, “people would think she’s mental. “They’d probably shout stuff out at her, give her abuse. “And yet, if a woman walks down the beach in a bikini, “no-one says anything. “And if you think about it, a bikini is effectively bra and knickers. “So with that theory, you should be able to walk down the beach “in bra and knickers, and have no-one say anything.” And she said, “I don’t care! Take them off!” She’s got a point about the romance thing. It’s very hard to show your romance as a bloke. Very hard to show any emotions at all, to be honest. I’ve got this theory – women, when they have Botox, they can’t show any emotions or expressions. Blokes should have the complete opposite and have a permanent emotion etched onto their face for life. You could have any one you want, but you’re stuck with it forever. I’d have confusion. I like the idea of spending me whole life walking around like this. “You all right, Lee?” “Yeah, I’m fine, why does everyone keeps asking me that?” You and your mates could have different emotions and have every situation covered. “Really? Five quid for a pint of lager, you must be joking. “Steve, get over here.” Talking of facelifts and Botox, I’ll tell you who gets a lot of criticism for that – Anne Robinson. Let me tell you – she’s a close showbiz friend of mine – she’s never had Botox or a facelift. People don’t realise that she’s got a massive bulldog clip on the back of her head, and if you take that bulldog clip off, it turns out she’s Harry Redknapp. That’s fact! Sweating like a pig.

We all right over there? I forgot about this whole section. What’s your name, madam? Sam? You all right, Sam? Is this your other half next to you? Yes. Have you got kids? Three kids, isn’t that lovely? I’ll be honest, right, I always wanted three kids, but now we’ve got two, I only want one. It’s not easy, having that second kid, is it? We’ve had to get a live-in nanny, because that dead one wasn’t working out. What are your kids called? Ellis? Nice name. Erin? There’s a theme here, isn’t there? “And elephant!” He’s the ugliest one. And what’s the third one? Na-than. “Na-than. Na-than.” Yeah? Are they good kids? Very good. That’s good, you’ve got to have good kids. My kids are completely different. One’s audacious, sprightly, over-zealous, effusive. The other one, we went for a more traditional name, John. “Audacious-Sprightly-Over-zealous- Effusive not going to be happy growing up with that name, is he? But John, she’s going to be livid! It’s hard, having kids. You’ve always got to do the right thing. It’s so difficult. The other day, my five-year-old, he was crying his eyes out. I walked in, I said, “Are you all right?” He went, “No, I’m scared.” I said, “What are you scared of?” How heartbreaking is this? “I’m scared of a third world war.”


I know. I picked that little fella up and I held him tightly. I said, “Son, you don’t have to be scared of that, “I’ve seen Comic Relief and I reckon if it all does kick off, “I don’t think the Third World are up for it.” Don’t get me wrong, I do my bit for charity. My attitude to charity has always been, “You give a man a fish, you feed him for a day, “but you teach a man to fish, you saved yourself a fish, haven’t you?” Old northern proverb. We always get the blame. Parents have always got the blame. It doesn’t matter who they are. When Paris Hilton first hit the headlines my mate said, “I blame the parents.” I thought, “There’s so much you can teach a child, then they’re on their own.” You’re tucking your daughter up in bed, “There you go, lots of love, nightie night. “Don’t forget everything I’ve taught you in life. “Always say your prayers before bedtime, “always eat your vegetables and don’t forget, “always play out nicely with your friends. “All right, darling? Nightie night. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. “Nightie night. Go to sleep now. “(Go to sleep. Go to sleep.]” “Oh… one other thing… “When you grow up, “don’t fuck someone, film it and put it on the internet. “That’s it, blow the lightie out.” We don’t do the prayers thing. We’re not a religious family. We not anti-religious, we just haven’t made our minds up yet. The text of the Bible is a bit confusing and old-fashioned, because people don’t speak like that any more, do they? Like the Noah story. It rain for 40 days and 40 nights. People don’t speak like that any more. You don’t have to say both, or split them up. Why don’t they say, “It rained for 40 days”? We don’t need the full sentence. People don’t talk like that. On a Friday, you don’t say to your mates, “I’ll see you in a few days, and a few nights. What? “Nothing!” You don’t have to separate them. We’ll understand. If I said to you lot, “I haven’t slept for 40 days,” you’d rush me to hospital. If on the way, I said, “Obviously, I’ve been sleeping at night,” you’d beat the shit out of me. You’ve got to give them a good education, the kids, haven’t you? Got any students in tonight?


Up the top, with your hands up – What’s your name, madam? Are you the northern lady? Panicking because there’s someone educated in the building. “Student, run, she’ll try and talk to me!” God bless you for running like that. Everywhere else in the world, people walk out of theatres like this. One northern woman in the front, “I’m off! “I’m from up north and I don’t give a fuck!” What’s your name up there? Ian. What are you studying? Catering. Catering? Patisserie. Patisserie? Oh, you’re back, are you, madam? Just on time, we’re talking about pies. She’s northern! I meant pies, Northern, she’s from Wigan! No, I’m not. Where are you from? St Helens. St Helens? Ever meet anyone that’s so Lancastrian like you, it’s like you’re not playing at the right speed?

[HE SPEAKS SLOWLY] “Do you mind, I’m from St Helens, not Wigan!” You’re supposed to be on 45, you’re playing it on 33. Play it properly, and just going to toilet. I’m from up north, and I don’t give a fuck! Oh, did someone say pies? Oh, fuck that. Hey, did someone say pies? Can you put it on 45? I’m playing at the wrong speed, Gromit. Good that you’re educating yourself, Ian, well done. That’s brilliant. You want to do something with your life and to educating yourself, and I commend you for that. Do you know where I studied, Ian? The University of Life! Know what I learnt there, mate? I learnt about pain and sorrow! I learnt how to survive off 10 quid a week or you go hungry. I learnt how to fiddle the gas meter otherwise you go cold in winter. I learnt misery and pain! I learnt if someone puts a knife to your throat at two in the morning, how you survive that situation. I learnt misery and pain and sorrow! Sorry, it wasn’t the University of Life, it was the University of Fife, sorry. It’s good you’re learning. Most kids don’t want to know anything. Kids don’t want education any more. They don’t want to go anywhere. All they want to do is sit in front of their computers. When we were kids, it was different. We used to have energetic games, didn’t we? Wasn’t it brilliant? Who here used to play Knock Down Ginger? It was great, wasn’t it? Driving round, looking for the ginger kid. There’s a whole family of them, Steve. Get on the pavement. I’m allowed to do jokes like that, by the way, because my wife’s ginger. Before you ask, she’s ginger upstairs and downstairs. It doesn’t matter what room she goes in, she’s fucking ginger. She can’t shake it off. It’s like a curse. Right, get back out again! What’s your name, mate? Pete. Pete? What do you do, Pete? Builder. Builder. Speed should have told me that.


Sorry about this. Traffic, love. Not my fault. It was the traffic, love. Not my fault. It’s different when we were kids, wasn’t it? Simple games. Energetic games. Musical statues. Yeah? Dressing up games. If we were really lucky, Dad would combine both. He’d dress me up as a little girl, put some callipers on my legs, give me a money box and see how still I could stand outside the newsagent’s. My brother was down the road, dressed as a Labrador with a hole in his head. Simple, happy times! You’ve got to watch kids TV with the kids, right? They don’t watch what I want to watch. I don’t watch University Challenge any more. I’ve given up with it. Is it me or are the questions getting harder and harder with every series? It’s got to the point now, honestly, where I give myself a point if I understand what the question means. I swear to God this is true. I once shouted out, Henry VIII, and the answer was nitrogen. How is that possible? You’ve got to watch kids’ adverts with the kids. Kids’ adverts are mental. Cereal adverts. They break all the other rules of traditional advertising. What other product would say the following sentence as if it was a positive? “It even turns your milk brown.” Ooh, thank fuckety-do for that. That white stuff’s been doing my head in. You don’t get that with other products, do you? Benson & Hedges. Even turns your fingers yellow. Stella Artois, even turns your wife black and blue. I hate the hard sell. The worst one’s that barman. He does the drink and work campaign – he does the monologue. He does different characters and shows that bloke the problems he’ll have if he has that extra pint. You know the advert, the bloke stands there and goes, “What can I get you?” “Step out of the vehicle and blow into the bag.” “I’m sorry, son, it’s company policy. I’ve got to let you go.” “There’s only 20,000 miles on the clock but it’s my final offer.” “No licence, no job, no holidays, no home, no car, no running, “no jumping, no diving, no heavy petting. Noel Edmonds. Noel Gallagher. What are we going to do?” “What can I get you?” “I only wanted a fucking packet of pork scratchings!” If you want to watch proper mental television though, watch CBeebies. My kids are obsessed with CBeebies. There’s one woman on CBeebies they absolutely love. Right? It’s the women with half an arm. Do you know this woman? She’s brilliant, this woman. My kids love her, right. She’s the best… Honest to God, people complained about this woman. People of this country complained that that women shouldn’t be allowed on television because it’s scaring the kids. How wrong was that?! For those that don’t know the story, this woman’s got half her arm missing from the elbow down, right? I didn’t need to say the second half of that sentence! She’s got half her arm missing, right? You knew which half, didn’t you? Even the builder knew! You knew. It was the other half, didn’t you? In fact, it would be fair to say, if it was the other half, it’s probably fair that people are ringing in complaining it’s scaring the kids. Hello, boys and girls, what’s in my box today? Let’s have a look. It’s only my other half a fucking arm. Oh, Mummy, Mummy, she’s doing it again! People complain, saying she shouldn’t be allowed on television. How wrong is that? Politically and morally incorrect. She is genuinely the best presenter on CBeebies. My kids love her. Most importantly, if we get rid of her, I miss out on my favourite game of the day – making up stories to my kids about how she lost that arm. I won’t go into detail but let’s just say the little one has stopped picking his nose.

I’ll tell you what else we’ve started doing – me and my wife – this weird thing. Nobody likes rowing in front of kids. It’s wrong to row in front of little ones. Me and my wife, for some bizarre reason, have started singing the row. This started about a year ago, right? We were on a train going to EuroDisney with the two kids. Suddenly, we broke down and didn’t move for two-and-a-half hours. It was stifling hot. Suddenly my wife turned round to me and went, # “Told you we should have got the plane.” # I said, “Oh no you don’t.” You said “Get the train.” I said, “Get the plane.” # “No, no, no. You’re doing it again, you see. # “You can’t fucking remember…” # “Don’t fucking start swearing at me, you know it fucking winds me up.” # “But now you’re fucking…” # “Don’t fucking tell me what the fucking…” # It’s like a musical version of Tourette’s in our house half the time. # “You said get the train” “Don’t tell me what I fucking…” # “What you fucking do is raise your fucking voice to me…” # “You said, “Get the train.” # “I didn’t fucking say get the fucking train. You’re just like your mum! # “Don’t bring my fucking mum into fucking this!” # We think the kids can’t notice. We look in the aisle. They’ve got top hats and canes and they’re going… # Dad’s such a BLEEP! He’s such a fucking BLEEP! # Thanks for coming out and listening to my new jokes. New tour. One joke – my favourite joke – hasn’t been working on the tour. I thought, they’re wrong, I’m right. OK. I think it’s a brilliant joke. No pressure then, Lee. I’ve always wanted to kidnap the ex-professional tennis player, Pat Cash. Just so, that after his family pay the ransom, I can ring them up and say, “Do you want cashback?” I knew that was all right. It’s all right, isn’t it? Yes. So, have you got any questions? Sorry, what was that?

LONDON ACCENT: What makes you laugh? What makes me laugh? Someone who sounds like she’s working on a fruit and veg stall in the East End. Know what I mean, love? Know what I mean? I love it when someone’s got that Cockney accent. The more friendly they get, the more threatening it sounds.

HE SPEAKS SOFTLY: “Hello, Lee, how you doing? You all right? Nice to see you. “How’s your mum, is she all right? “Good. It’s all you need, isn’t it? Your mum, yes, and your health. “How’s your health? Your health for her. “That’s all you need, your mum and your health and your legs. “How’s your legs? You got legs? Yeah. “Do you want to keep your fucking legs? Do you want to keep your legs? “How are you, Lee? Are you all right? “Yeah, anyway, I’ve got to go now. “I’ve got to build the wall. See you later.” Questions from the top. Quiet, please. I’m a bit disappointed… You’re a bit disappointed because of what? You haven’t spoken about your dead nan. I haven’t spoken about my dead nan. You’re disappointed. You sound like a really classy girl. What a great Scouse accent as well! I love it when someone’s so Scouse, they sound like they’re turning into a dolphin. Proper Scousers. Fucking hell! “Hey, you, are you Lee Mackkkkk? “Are you Lee Mackkkk-kkkkkk? “Are you fuckkkkkk? Are you fucking Lee Mackkkkk? “Hey, lookkkkk!” HE MIMICS A DOLPHIN “Are you kkkkkk? Are you kkkk? Are you fuckkkkkkk…? “Kkkkk.” MIMICS DOLPHIN “Fucking Lee Mack kkkk. “Kkkk.”


Knock, knock. Who’s there? Me dead nan. Right, now shut up! Can I have your shoe? Can you have my shoes? What a very honest poor heckler. “Can I have your shoes?” # Who will buy my matches? # “Can I have your shoes, Lee?” What are you doing, you weirdo? Don’t try and steal my clothes. What are you doing? You were going to steal my jacket? You are the worst criminal I’ve ever seen in the world. You’re on the front row of an event that’s being filmed for television. How less a chance could you get away with that than that? Any questions from the back? What? Genocide. I’m getting the last word, which is genocide. Is everyone getting genocide? Are we all getting genocide? All I’m hearing is, “BER BER AWIGHT, genocide.” I don’t have the rest of the question but I’m guessing it isn’t actually comedy gold. Let’s go for it anyway. Genocide. What about genocide? Is it funny? Is it funny, genocide? I laugh my tits off at genocide. What’s there not to laugh about, about genocide? How many can you kill before it stops becoming funny? I think is what I’m saying. When I said any questions, I’m genuinely scared of getting back to my hotel room tonight. It’s like this is never going to end, isn’t it? “Lee, Lee! “It’s the madwoman. I am hanging on to your window ledge. “Can I have that jacket? Can I?” “I want his shoes. Can I have your shoes? “Can I have your shoes?” “I was here first, you bitch. I want his shoes.” “I want his jacket.” “Lee, ignore them two. Is it funny, genocide? You never answered me. “Is genocide funny? Is it funny, genocide?” I’m going, you’re mental.

Ladies and gentlemen from Hammersmith, you’ve been a lovely audience. Thank you very much for coming out. Thank you very much. Good night.



  1. I was watching the Lee Mack Going Out Live 2010 dvd.

    Im trying to find out the music the accompanied Lee’s magic act at the beginning where he locks the boys in the box.

    My friend works in physio and she really thinks the music would help her patients.
    If you have the name of the music that would be so helpful.


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