“When is a man a man?” asks a German pop star in one of his songs. That I can answer with ease. I became a man when I turned 16, and not in the way you may be thinking. It was the last time a butcher asked me if I’d like a free slice of sausage while I was shopping. She probably found my answer impolite as I said, “I’m a little old for that...maybe you should eat it yourself. I’d prefer 2lbs of goulash thank you!”
A question that is much more difficult to answer is: “When is a man a cabaret artist?” And who decides that? The butcher? In my case the audience definitely made the decision. I kept trying to hold serious presentations which often didn’t work out. I recognised that by the expressions on the people’s faces. Following one particular presentation I received many sausages and beer bottles. A member of the audience called on stage, “Looks like you don’t have enough hands to carry everything, hey!?” My retort was immediately forthcoming, “I fear you’re right but I’m certainly not going to ask you for help...you look hungry!”
Since then I have been invited to many half-hour cabaret performances. After that the decision to write my own on-stage program was little more than a formality. It’s almost done.