Having read and enjoyed a number of Gervase Phinn's bestselling autobiographical books (which detail the author's fond memories of a life as a school inspector and which, in the way of the James Herriot It Shouldn't Happen to a Vet series, depict the area around the Yorkshire Dales in a novel, romantic and often hilarious light), I was keen to witness the man on stage. His show at Strode Theatre in April this year has the privilege of being the quickest to sell out in the venue's history. Now he has returned for a further two sold-out evenings. Jurvay Fine or Ricky Gervais? Having observed the somewhat dishevelled T-shirt- and jeans-wearing Gervase Phinn in the foyer a scant few minutes before the beginning of the show, I was amazed at the arrival on stage of an immaculately attired individual, resplendent in scarlet waistcoat and tie as well as a charcoal-grey tail coat. From the first minute, he proved himself to be an engaging speaker and his ludicrous-sounding, yet true, tales and sharp observations soon had the audience rolling in the aisles. We learned a lot about the man. He informed us that despite being a school inspector he didn't go to a public school, the posh-sounding name Gervase is actually a result of his pregnant mum's loving of French yogurt and that the letters C Prof after his name refer not to a Cambridge title but his bicycling ability. We also found out that contrary to the view of the staff in a well-known bookshop his name is not pronounced Jurvay Fine, nor should his books be located in the female autobiography section, that he once lost the front row of an audience during the interval as they had left following their error in believing the show featured Ricky Gervais, and that as he gets old he will probably be a cantankerous old bugger. The inquisitive nature of children In the first half, with a charming smile and a warm twinkle in his eye, Gervase made the most of his recollections. He recounted an early assignment that necessitated the return to his own infant school, where he met his old schoolmistress (and now headmistress) Miss Greenhalgh, a lady surprised at his level of achievement considering he was an ordinary child who never sat at the top table. Although he talked about his family and his encounters with the Secretary of State for Education Alan Johnson MP and Baroness Gillian Shephard, the bulk of the show centred upon the innocence, naivety and unpredictability of the under-10s. This was done in a charming way and in the course of two hours, he brought the characters of numerous children he has encountered along his journey vividly to life. These are individuals who have not been tarnished by the world and should be nurtured and encouraged, rather than being hectored or told they are fools. It is clear to see that Mr Phinn is a man who enjoyed his job and thrived upon the innately inquisitive nature of children, even if they can be exasperating as they butt in, or flummox and confound with their often unique takes on the world. Importantly, he also has a clear idea of how the British education system should be run Urinating schoolboys and diarrhoea After the interval, Gervase returned in a change of outfit and a garish jacket, which looked to me to be cobbled together from an assortment of school blazers. This half of the show was slightly more risqué than the first segment, as he regaled us with tales of Belgian blue bulls, urinating schoolboys, a lad wearing a coral-coloured condom as a hat and, in a segment which had everyone crying with laughter, a little winker who just can't stop. A piece about an inner-city assignment showed the rougher edges of the job, but the characters were no less endearing to the listener. This was a thoroughly charming, innocent and humorous way to pass an evening, the result of which means I will never forget how to spell the words diarrhoea or hedgehog. My only criticism would be that the singing at the beginning and end of the show was the Phinn end of the wedge(!). | 
