David Hasselhoff: An Evening with...

There are rare moments in life where everything is perfect. I like to catogorise these moments into two sections: 'Gymkata on DVD and a blowjob' or 'DAVID HASSELHOFF AND ANYTHING'.

Everything about the evening was outstanding. I arrived early to effectively manage both queuing and drinking and took the opportunity to talk to everyone else going to the show. There is something about this man that brings out the best in people. Absolutely everyone in that queue seemed to be filled with a childlike joy and quivering anticipation.

It goes without saying that there were a LOT of Germans there that night. I'd seen enough episodes of 'Allo 'Allo to comfortably talk to them and I can confidently say that these guys don't fuck around when it comes to loving the Hoff. A group of them had flown in specially to see his show and were all dressed identically in Baywatch T-shirts and Hasselhoff masks. This was a special kind of crazy that was so lovable I forgot to be scared. Each one of them seemed to have been following him across the globe in some sort of unhinged pilgrimage to feed off his life-force and they patiently allowed me to explain the term 'boner' to them while they secretly planned to put their mouths over David while he slept.

We sat front stage in order to get the most out of the Hoff. I ended up sitting next to a woman who was what zoologists might class as 'fucking nuts'. She took a few moments between grinding her thighs against the arm of my chair to explain that she was Hasselhoff's biggest fan. I politely agreed with her and made a mental note not let my arm touch the chair for the remainder of the evening.

Thankfully that wasn't a problem because I spent the entire night clapping and fist pumping like someone had strapped a bomb to me that would go off if I ever stopped clapping and fist pumping.

It began with a montage of his life, a fast paced compilation tape that kind of made me feel like I was being Clockwork-Oranged into really enjoying Broadway. Little did I know that this was all a Knightridery-distraction and that three minutes of sitting silently in the dark watching clips of Baywatch is exactly the way he sneaks up on you.

Exploding from the back of the stage in a pinstripe zoot-suit singing Nina Simone's Feelin' Good, the crowd went absolutely bananas. A majority of people at this point were just clapping to convince themselves that they hadn't just accidentally had a stroke.

After an awe-inspiring opening, he threw down every 'Hoff' pun available and simultaneously stole the 'clever headline' from every student journalist in the room.

The show was a musical trip through his life where he interspliced his breathless performances with personal career memories and things he found on YouTube. The internet breaks gave him time to change outfits many, many times. I guess this was both for show and for practicality. Wearing hug-where-it-counts jeans and Knightrider leather jacket, screaming 'JUMP IN MY CAR' in a packed, razzamatazz filled basement is going to get sweaty and by the time he'd done 'Song From Baywatch' I assume he'd lost 42 pounds.

He took a moment out of the show to talk to a guy called Bobby who had MS. Bobby was absolutely the man. I know the term 'KNIGHTRIDER AS FUCK' gets thrown around a lot these days, but on this occasion, it was right on the money. David talked to him with such genuine admiration and sensitivity, the women in the audience were looking at him like his dick might dispense Häagen-Dazs and Jimmy Choo shoe coupons.

He performed a host of songs close to his heart, ranging from emotional to absolute madness. His rendition of Someone Like You from Jekyll and Hyde was performed with such heart-felt conviction there wasn't a dry vagina left in the house. He snatched a lady from the audience to dance to 'keep your hat on'. AND YOU BETTER FUCKING BELIEVE HE SANG COPACOBANA.

At one point he starts a limbo line, complete with a bombardment of beachballs. Under normal circumstances, limbo and beachballs are how you come out to your parents through the medium of mime, but in the hands of Baywatch, it was weaponised awesome.

The whole show climaxed with Looking For Freedom, complete with him smashing through a fake wall with such determination you'd think his parents had been killed by a polystyrene saleman. The eruption of applause drew him back on stage for an encore so Scottish, I came tartan. We left the venue in a state of shock. Each of us sporting the kind of thousand-yard-stare that suggested we had just witnessed the indescribable.

I'll be honest. If this show had been done by anyone other than David Hasselhoff it would have failed, HARD. But it was powered by the enthusiasm, love and self-depricating humour of a unique and talented man-god.
The whole thing was a contradiction in terms. It couldn't give a fuck, yet it was honest, fun and kind.
It loved you enough to go down on you, yet respected you enough not to try and put a finger in your ass.

I loved it.