It is not just about who you see, it is about where you sit when you see them. Last week I reviewed comedian Paul Foot at the Comedy Bunker club in West Ruislip, and while he definitely didn't storm it, as they say in comedy parlance, he didn't die on his bottom (a polite version of the comedy parlance here) either. The people around me definitely gave out the odd chuckle. Yet Dave from Hillingdon was there and posted a reply on the Standard's website saying that the audience was "obviously embarrassed by this act".

Which goes to show that different fans can have different experiences depending on where they sit. At club gigs I have to fight for a decent pew like everybody else, but at major gigs I'm spoilt. I may not be carried up to the Royal Box on a sedan chair, but I do get pretty good seats. At the Hammersmith Apollo for instance, reviewers usually get the front row of the second block back, which means we have great views and plenty of leg-room (and easy access to the bar). At Ricky Gervais's Edinburgh Castle show the press had really good seats and access to free peanuts.

Sitting on the end of a row as theatre critics traditionally do is always preferable. One of my pet hates is being stuck in the middle of a row next to a man who likes to sit with his legs apart, staking out as much territory as possible. On a really bad night I've been stuck between a man on either side doing this. And as much as you ask them to desist, it seems to be instinctive. After the interval they just return to their default splayed position. This happened at Russell Brand's Fairfield Hall gig last year. I think maybe they were so intimidated by Brand's relaxed attitude to his sexuality they had to assert their masculinity more than ever.

Sometimes being too far away can spoil your enjoyment, but sometimes it can enhance it. When Little Britain did their Hammersmith Apollo Comic Relief show I actually bought a ticket as it was for charity and the only one I could get was in the balcony. I thought I'd hate the show because I was so far away, but somehow the brain seemed to compensate for the long-distance view and the fact that I couldn't see Vicky Pollard's every expression and I enjoyed it more than ever.

Last Saturday I had another unexpected experience. Sitting on the far left of the row at the Red Rose Club and watching Pappy's Fun Club onstage, I could hear an increasingly threatening altercation going on in the corridor. I'm sure people on the right would not have heard this at all, but for me it just made me feel anxious. I feared the argument was going to spill out and come through the doors. I'm all for knockabout comedy, but seeing someone being knocked about at a comedy gig is a different thing entirely.