Bad Grandad’s loudest attempt at rock stardom

Bad Grandad has never needed much encouragement to cause trouble. Give him a walking stick, a questionable plan, and an audience, and he will turn an ordinary afternoon into a full-scale performance. Joining a band simply adds instruments, amplifiers, and several people who should have known better.

Andy Fanton’s comic creation thrives on misplaced confidence. Bad Grandad may be elderly, but he approaches every new challenge with the certainty of a man who believes experience automatically makes him an expert. A garage band looking for a drummer, guitarist, or singer is therefore an irresistible target.

The joke works because his musical ambition is both ridiculous and completely sincere. He does not want to stand near a band; he wants to become its most important member, preferably without learning the songs.

The audition begins before the music

Bad Grandad would arrive early for an audition, though “early” might mean turning up before the venue has opened. He would carry an ancient instrument case, a flask, and perhaps a handwritten list of demands. The band might expect a competent musician and instead receive someone who regards the audition as a personal comeback tour.

His first challenge would be identifying the instrument. A guitar could become a coat rack, a drum kit might be mistaken for patio furniture, and a microphone would immediately be tested for its suitability as a walking-stick holder. None of this would weaken his confidence. If anything, every mistake would be presented as a daring artistic choice.

Experience counts for almost nothing

When the other musicians ask about his background, Bad Grandad would offer a dramatic account of touring with famous performers. The details would shift from sentence to sentence. One moment he was a backing vocalist; the next, he was responsible for “security, catering, and the difficult solos.”

That slippery version of history fits the character’s talent for making confusion sound authoritative. Readers familiar with Bad Grandad’s memory problems will recognise the danger when he starts listing bandmates, venues, and song titles. The more he forgets, the more confidently he fills in the gaps.

His secret weapon is selective hearing. Complaints about missed cues become praise for his improvisation. Requests to stop become demands for an encore. By the end of the rehearsal, the band may be unsure whether they have rejected him or accidentally hired him as manager.

The rehearsal becomes a battlefield

A first practice session would quickly expose the difference between musical timing and Bad Grandad’s personal schedule. He might count in a song at the wrong speed, take a tea break halfway through the chorus, or insist that every number sounds better in a medieval style.

That medieval detour would be especially dangerous. A simple rock tune could acquire a lute solo, a dragon-themed bridge, and lyrics about a knight who refuses to pay for parking. It would connect neatly with the playful historical humour found across Andy Fanton’s work, while giving Bad Grandad another reason to claim that the band is “ahead of its time.”

Band problem	Bad Grandad’s solution	Likely result
He cannot keep the beat	Blame the drummer’s tempo	The drummer quits
He forgets the lyrics	Replace them with complaints	The audience sings along
The amplifier fails	Hit it with his stick	The venue loses power
The band needs a name	Choose one from his past	Nobody can verify it
The set list is missing	Perform every song he remembers	The show ends at breakfast

His bandmates learn the real meaning of patience

The musicians would initially try to be polite. They might explain the chord progression, label the equipment, and write the set list in enormous letters. Bad Grandad would interpret this support as proof that he is already the leader.

Soon, he would start redesigning the group. The quiet guitarist would be promoted to “young assistant,” the singer would be told to project properly, and the drummer would be ordered to use “less racket.” He might even recruit a grandchild as a roadie, despite having no idea where the road leads.

The funniest friction comes from his absolute refusal to accept that he is the problem. If the band sounds terrible, he blames the acoustics. If the audience leaves, he says they were overwhelmed. If the venue manager pulls the plug, Bad Grandad calls it a dramatic ending and bows until someone physically removes him.

A debut gig nobody can forget

The first performance would probably take place in a small community hall, local pub, or village fête. The band would hope for a low-pressure event. Bad Grandad would treat it as a stadium concert, demanding a spotlight and attempting to introduce every song with a story that has no connection to the music.

His stage presence would be impossible to ignore. He might wander into the wrong section, confuse the sound technician with a waiter, or mistake a decorative plant for an enthusiastic fan. Yet the crowd could begin to enjoy the chaos. Children would laugh, adults would recognise a familiar relative, and the band would discover that disaster can be strangely entertaining.

By the final number, Bad Grandad would be convinced that the group has achieved instant fame. He would announce a world tour before the instruments are packed away, leaving his exhausted bandmates to decide whether firing him would create an even bigger problem.

Why the joke has comic staying power

The premise works because Bad Grandad’s ambition is never cruel or calculating. He is an enthusiastic nuisance, driven by the belief that every new activity is an opportunity to become legendary. His failure is predictable, but the exact form it takes can keep changing.

That makes a band storyline ideal for the character. Music supplies endless props, rhythms, rivalries, costumes, and public embarrassments. It also lets Fanton build visual jokes around old-fashioned habits colliding with modern equipment, from wireless microphones to streaming playlists.

Readers can find the same blend of character comedy and sharp cartoon timing in Andy Fanton’s wider portfolio, including comic strips such as George vs Dragon, Boo!, and Carrotty Kid. A Bad Grandad musical misadventure would sit comfortably beside those mischievous, high-energy creations.

The ideal set list for disaster

• “My Way,” performed entirely out of order
• “We Will Rock You,” with Bad Grandad replacing the drums
• A medieval ballad about a dragon stealing his dentures
• An original song whose title he forgets halfway through
• An encore that continues until someone hides the microphone

Bad Grandad may never master an instrument, remember the band’s name, or reach the second verse of a song. That hardly matters. His greatest talent is turning a simple plan into a comic catastrophe, then accepting applause for the result.

Explore Andy Fanton’s comics, drawings, writing, and television work at Andy Fanton Dot Com, and follow the site’s social links for more character-driven humour. The band may have survived the rehearsal, but Bad Grandad is already booking the next gig.