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This is the kind of thing you can expect to see at Roy "Chubby" Brown gigAfter quite an uncomfortable warm-up act—a 45-year-old woman in fishnet tights doing the splits and singing "Sex on Fire"—Chubbs arrived on stage to "Gangnam Style," while all those familiar with his catchphrase chanted: "You fat bastard! You fat bastard!"He looked quite sweet in his trademark outfit: technicolor jacket and trousers, flying cap with raised goggles, bright white socks, brown loafers, and a glowing fake tan. Like a steampunk children's entertainer. Coming on to Psy's big hit seemed like a strange capitulation to a culture he usually derides, but then he reached the microphone: "Turn that slitty-eyed shite off, you fucking cunt!"
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His fans seemed like they'd be normal people after they were done sitting through his shower of comical bigotry. But I still couldn't build up the courage to ask them why they were there. There was an irreducible separation between us—determined by race, obviously, but also class. Yes, I'm an ethnic minority, but I also went to private school (cf: hard-working Indians) and a good university and have a nice job. My race and class put me outside Chubby and his fans' remit, but while the former subjugates me, the latter privileges me: hence my nervous laughter and fluctuating levels of offense.The show dragged on for an hour and a half, littered with self-deprecating jokes about his weight, his son being gay, his daughter getting pregnant, his wife "once having long legs and bit tits" and now having "big legs and long tits." But once the transgressive thrill of hearing "Paki" and "nigger" had dulled, even his fans started to appear fidgety and bored.Towards the end a girl got up from the front row and went to the toilet. "I'll be seeing you later, split-arse," said Chubby, cheekily, and everyone laughed. After an odd rendition of "The Entertainer" on the piano (no jokes, just a recital), he started a serious bit about his diagnosis of throat cancer ten years ago: "We all know someone who's been affected by cancer…" But the crowd interrupted him, jeering and laughing. The split-arse had come back to her seat! When Chubby realized they weren't laughing at his cancer but encouraging him to sling more insults at the woman, he did so. But there was a brief moment—and I saw it on his quivering, bulbous face—when he was really confused. They're not laughing at your cancer, are they, Chubbs? he must have thought. In that moment of vulnerability, you could feel the tragedy of his charade.Once the transgressive thrill of hearing "Paki" and "nigger" had dulled, even his fans started to appear fidgety and bored.
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