Martin Soan’s comedy club Pull The Other One has been running for eleven years in South East London but is closing in June this year. Currently, there are shows twice a month. Recent acts have included Alan Davies, Omid Djalili, Boothby Graffoe, Robin Ince, Tony Law and Stewart Lee. The next one is this Friday with top-of-the-bill Nina Conti. After that, there are only five more shows including one headlining Simon Munnery. The final Pull The Other One is on Friday 29th June with Oram & Meeten.
Martin Soan is also a prolific prop maker both for himself and others. Almost every Edinburgh Fringe, it seems, he gets asked to make a giant vagina by different acts: on one occasion, a singing one.
I did not ask him about the giant vaginas when we met.
JOHN: So you are selling your props… Why?
MARTIN: To get a bit of cash and fund me doing something else. And I don’t have a van any more and some of these props are quite large. That’s the main reason.
JOHN: Doing something else?
MARTIN: I’m reinventing myself, John.
JOHN: As what? A woman?
MARTIN: A performance artist with a sense of humour.
JOHN: But you’ve always been a performance artist.
MARTIN: I haven’t done a show for ages.
JOHN: You’re doing a show every two weeks!
MARTIN: Well, with that, I’m a comedy producer or a gig owner or whatever. But there’s another show inside me.
JOHN: Which is?
MARTIN: I don’t know yet. It won’t be themed. It won’t be like…
MARTIN: Stupid, surreal.
JOHN: What are you going to do with this show? Take it up to the Edinburgh Fringe next year?
MARTIN: Because Edinburgh is a black hole of financial… deadlines and… Edinburgh is rich enough now. The breweries, the University. They’re rich enough. Move on… To another city. A depressed city.
MARTIN: Scarborough. Let’s create a Fringe at Scarborough.
MARTIN: The last time I went to Scarborough, it looked a bit like Brighton – a gorgeous town – but it was completely and utterly depressed.
JOHN: Isn’t it where Alan Ayckbourn does his plays?
MARTIN: I’m not sure. I’m saying Scarborough, but it could be any town. Scarborough is ideal because it has all these large premises. Loads and loads of rooms out the back of pubs.
JOHN: How about Leipzig? You have staged Pull The Other One shows there.
MARTIN: Well, yeah, but it’s getting popular now. Probably moving out of Leipzig is the thing to do. Grünau is probably the place. I’m desperate to go somewhere like Leipzig.
JOHN: You mean move there?
MARTIN: Yeah, for a time. That’s the desire. I’ve gotta get some funding. Pull The Other One in Nunhead was fantastic, but I don’t make money. I cover my expenses. It’s an enormous amount of work. I dress the room, which takes a day and then another day taking it down. I would carry on, but it does occupy all my time, really, and it’s tense leading up to the gigs. If I don’t sell tickets, I’m losing big-time because I have to pay everyone. The Nun’s Head pub are very, very good to me, but I want to do two or three pop-up shows a year.
JOHN: So what props are you selling?
MARTIN: The Gates of Hell.
MARTIN: That rack of 24 singing Billy The Bass fish… And I have an anvil made out of foam… I’m selling The Red Sparrows with written choreography…
…and I’m selling Mr Punch, who is 49 years old.
JOHN: And the relevance of Mr Punch is…?
MARTIN: He was the very first member of The Greatest Show on Legs. I was the second. Basically, the Greatest Show on Legs started out as a Punch & Judy show and it was me and Malcolm Hardee. That was where me and Malcolm met. He became my ‘interpreter’.
JOHN: Why is it called The Greatest Show on Legs?
MARTIN: Because, rather than being a free-standing booth, the booth cloth came down halfway and was all strapped to my back so my legs came out the bottom and I could walk around with it. In fact, the original one had four legs coming out of it, because I did the old Rolf Harris Jake The Peg thing.
JOHN: Malcolm told me the other reason for building it that way was that, if the show went badly, you could just do a runner…
JOHN: …or was that just one of Malcolm’s fantasies?
MARTIN: Well, yeah, Malcolm just made that up. I mean, I wouldn’t be able to see where I was running, would I? There was one time at the Ferry Inn at Salcolme when I had had rather too much to drink and, inside the booth you have no horizon so I was falling over and didn’t even know it. Suddenly, it was like a sledgehammer coming up and hitting me on the back of the head and I was knocked out. Malcolm looked at the audience and said: “Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be an interval of fifteen minutes.”
JOHN: But you had done the Greatest Show on Legs on your own before you met Malcolm.
MARTIN: Oh yeah. I was 16 when I started. I think me and Malcolm met when we were about 24 or 25. When I first started at 16, obviously, I was shit. I had no formal training in any performing art or anything. I didn’t know what I was doing. I always remember the first show I gave where I thought: Aaah! I think I might have the hang of this! It was at University College, London. Outside one of their buildings, at some event. Something clicked on that one.
JOHN: You got around a bit.
MARTIN: I used to do Portobello Road and only two people used to come and see me regularly. This large black lady and a little boy. They came and saw me every time; I don’t know why. I used to shit bricks before I got into the booth and started.
JOHN: Why did you start doing it if you had no natural aptitude at 16?
MARTIN: When you’re young, you are desperate to make friends and at least be recognised in some sort of way. Plus it fed my creative ‘making’ side – making props and things. I used to like all the problem solving.
JOHN: Such as?
MARTIN: Thinking it would be brilliant if Mr Punch got so angry that smoke would come out of his ears. So he has two tubes to blow smoke out.
JOHN: And this is the one you are auctioning off?
MARTIN: Yeah. He is 49 years of age.
JOHN: That must be a bit of an emotional trauma for you.
MARTIN: Well, so far, people have not taken it seriously. Boothby Graffoe started mucking around and saying he would bid half a monkey. Otiz Cannelloni bid £500 for the crate of Billy The Bass singing fish which I think… Well, they are £25-£35 each and you could flog ‘em for £25 each so, in singing fish alone it’s worth £500. But it’s a concept and they’re all wired up to one button so they all sing together.
JOHN: How do you know when the auction has ended?
MARTIN: I will decide when it gets to the reserve price or more.
JOHN: Have you got reserve prices in mind?
MARTIN: No. Mr Punch is 49 years of age and his skin is really good to look at. He looks aged. He looks 49, but not in a bad way.
JOHN: What does “Not in a bad way” mean?
MARTIN: Look, I’m talking bollocks now. You have tricked me into talking bollocks.
JOHN: It’s a natural aptitude.
MARTIN: I obviously would not let Mr Punch go for for £25.
JOHN: If people want to bid or buy or ask questions, what is the ‘handle’ as I think young people say or used to say.
JOHN: Not Martin Soan?
MARTIN: Well, you could. And I have other interesting stuff.
JOHN: Such as?
MARTIN: Miss Haversham.
JOHN: From Great Expectations.
MARTIN: She’s sitting down in an armchair and she has arms and legs – which are false.
JOHN: And Miss Haversham IS the armchair.
MARTIN: Yeah. You put it on like a costume. You can be dressed normally, You go in from the back and come up and, as you come up, you are putting on the whole costume; there’s even a wig built-in. It’s like a quick-change thing.
JOHN: I seem to remember it involved a 3-minute build-up for one visual gag.
MARTIN: Well, you’ve never seen the whole sketch. It was all about alliteration. There’s Pip and Miss Haversham is doing embroidery and she gives the needle to Pip then she moves away from him to create the tautness of the thread and comes back. Instead of him moving, she moves.
JOHN: You should do a show demonstrating all the props you’re selling ‘as originally used’.
MARTIN: I suppose so. They’re lovely props, but they are big props for a big show. You need a van. To get even the fish in AND Miss Haversham, you need a big van.
JOHN: You’re not going to retire.
JOHN: That’s a relief.