Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell – Richmond Theatre

Feeling a bit low having just returned from holiday and after a day that could only be described with expletives I really needed a few laughs so I trotted along to Richmond Theatre to see Robert Powell (immortalised in my mind forever as Jesus of Nazareth with those piercing blue eyes) play the lead in Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell. If the drunken rantings of an alcoholic, charismatic, gambling, self-destructive, womanising, irresponsible Soho dwelling Lothario and journalist (oh – the good old days!) couldn’t cheer me up then nothing could.

The Keith Waterhouse play opened with the scene set as the modern interior of the Coach and Horses pub where Bernard has accidentally been locked in for the night – having fallen asleep in the toilets. Endearingly, his first words are a string of swear words (just like the opening of Four Weddings and Funeral) as he realises his predicament. He pours himself another drink.

There are some great lines as he recounts numerous anecdotes and misadventures (“The only man who receives angry letters from the editor”, “Tried to get him arrested for being boring”, “Brown eyes flecked with malice and realistic thinking”) and his witty monologue about drinking, journalism, racing and women was regularly punctuated with short walk-on parts by the four back up actors. Some of these characters were fantastically portrayed – in just a few short moments – Muriel, Francis Bacon and Mr and Mrs Backbone were particularly memorable.

It took a while to get going during the first half (or maybe that was my torpor) but the rest of the audience regularly chuckled at the sometimes rather anachronistic and politically incorrect gags. In the second half the pace seemed to liven up somewhat and we were treated to a repeat of the famous egg and tray trick and the fabulous comedy spectacle of cat racing and triplet swopping.

Some may be offended by the subject matter (especially the alcoholism and language) although I guess it was all part of the charm of the character. Personally, I thought it was a beautifully observed and written piece documenting an extraordinarily colourful (but ultimately sad)character from another era. For a Londoner like me, it was good to hear tales of all those famous Soho places – and their infamous patrons.

I was smiling at the end - and I may just try to get hold of a copy of the film, to see how Peter O’ Toole’s performance compares to Mr Powell’s, which I thought was rather convincing.