Slight Return.

Bill Hicks A Slight Return


As dry ice smoke filled the room, the lights dimmed and the audience went silent. And stayed that way.
"What the fuck is this shit?" Said the little voice of reason in my head after not laughing, or hearing laughter, for the next fifteen minutes.
"A piece of shit. Say it and walk away" said the voice of Bill in my head.
"Come on Bill give the guy a chance." I said to Bill's voice in my head. "He's trying."
"Very fucking trying man, you spent how much on this?"
"£8.50" I said.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Now that's funny. Didn't you know you could have bought some hardcore porn for that? What the fuck were you thinking? Were you high? Is that what it was? I could maybe forgive you if you bought it in a drugged state and forgot completely about my being, well, FUCKIN' DEAD!!!"
"Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to watch this." I thought, with anger in my internal dialogue.
"Yeah man, whatever, if you want me I'll be in the deepest, darkest, most sordid part of your mind playing with those nubile young girls you love so much. Goatboy rises, Hehehehehe..."
As the mental spectre of Bill faded into the back of my mind to the sounds of voodoo chille the theatre came back into my vision.

Written by Richard Hurst and Chas Early, Slight return tries it's best to capture what Bill himself would make of the world today ten years after his death. And fails spectacularly. Like a quadriplegic man in a juggling competition.
Not only does Chas Early fail to do a half-decent impersonation of Bill but the writing is nowhere near what Bill himself would have come up with.

How do you follow genius? You don't. End of story. Case, Fucking, Closed.