I was overjoyed to hear that the tour was actually going to open in Phoenix at the Orpheum Theatre on April 29, 2000. I regularly checked the web site, but the tickets were not being offered on Ticketmaster's site. I found out by chance later that the tickets for the Phoenix show weren't being sold by Ticketmaster, but by Dillards (ETM) box office. I rushed, quick as a limpet, to purchase tickets for my wife, Vicki, and myself, but was only able to secure seats on the 24th row.

This presented a bit of a drawback. I knew that, as part of his show, Eric Idle had a segment called "Spot the Looney!" during which he would call some silly, crazily-dressed member of the audience up on stage to donate his liver. I was bound and gagged, I mean, determined to be this person. I was convinced that there could be none sillier in Phoenix than myself. The only possible contender would be my dad, and I knew he wasn't attending the show.

As show day approached, I began gathering the elements of my costume. I wasn't sure what I would wear, but I knew it had to be very bright and ugly. I searched a thrift store for strange clothing, and found the pants, tie and bandanna there. The purple and black plaid shorts are a pair of Big Dogs. The yellow shirt is actually a Spam T-shirt I received for winning first place in a Spam carving contest (Due to the excitement of being on stage with Eric Idle, I forgot to reveal it to the audience as planned). The vest, which used to fit much better, but is now inhibited by my girth, is from a costume I had worn of another Python character, Mr. Gumby. I went to a costume shop to get the purple and white face makeup and the bright orange hair spray, which in reality only slightly tinted my hair orange. At this same shop I also found the glorious rubber chicken feet -- the chicken leg socks are Vicki's. The finishing touch to the Looney uniform was the ping pong ball eyes. I couldn't locate my old trusty ones, so I created a new pair.

Vicki chauffeured me to the show, as it's rather difficult to drive a car wearing giant chicken feet and scrunching down to avoid messing up six-inch-high, stiff, orange hair. We parked on the fourth floor of a garage and took the elevator down. When we hit the third floor, the doors opened, and an unsuspecting couple was rather startled by my outfit. They had also come for the show, though, and were prepared to be silly, so they didn't phone the police.

We made our way to the theatre and the lobby inside. The usher who showed us our seats asked me, "Are you part of the show?" I replied, "I certainly hope so!" So there we sat in the 24th row, waiting for the great event to begin.

About midway through the show, the time came for "Spot the Looney!", and the house lights went up. I sprang to my feet, leaped up and down, waived my arms and attempted to reproduce the high-pitched chant of the Reverend Arthur Belling, the vicar of St. Looney-Up-the-Cream-Bun-and-Jam. Though most of the loonies were near the front, I did manage to catch Eric's eye, for he said, "And there's a rather large looney back there." He invited us all up onstage. Vicki said that Eric laughed out loud when he finally got a good look at me. There were only about 6 or 8 of us loonies up there. I was really surprised there weren't more. Phoenix just isn't as looney as I thought it was. Anyway, he asked the audience to vote by applause for the looniest, and they picked me! I was the Looney chosen to donate my liver!

At this point, Eric had me sign a "waiver," and they put me in the liver box. I'm not really sure what happened next, as I was standing in this dark box. Vicki told me that they wheeled me back stage and the show's movie screen depicted them taking out my liver. While this was going on, the cast was apparently performing "Liverdance" onstage.

What actually happened was that they put me in this box, wheeled me back stage, and attempted to put a bloody bandage thingy around my waist. It was also inhibited by my girth, so I had to hold it in place. Then they wheeled me back out, took me out of the box, and Eric examined me to make sure I was OK. He then presented me with a copy of his new CD, "Eric Idle Sings Monty Python."

Sadly, my time with Mr. Idle was then over, and I proceeded back to the 24th row with the fading cheers of the audience dying in my ears. I was on cloud 7½ as I watched the rest of the show, and what a GREAT show it was! It was even better than I had hoped. Ah, the dream of a lifetime fulfilled: sharing the stage with a member of Monty Python. All these years of being a Python fanatic have finally paid off! Vicki even managed to snap a couple of pictures of me up there. Mind you they were from the bleedin' 24th row, but I'm definitely visible.

Eric Idle was signing autographs after the show. The line was HUGE. When we finally reached him, Eric said, "Ah, the Looney!" He signed my program, "What a Great Looney, Eric Idle," and then wrote below, "Our 1st Looney!" I got a very nice photo with him there.

As we exited the theatre onto the street, we found the rest of the cast milling about. They saw me come out and asked if they could get their picture taken with me. What an honor! We also got a photo of me standing under the marquee holding the program.

So there you have it, the whole bleeding story. You can also check out the Photos for a more pictorial representation. Thanks for reading the story of Dale Novak, the Great Looney!