Inside No. 9 (for real) — the very final show
It feels strange to be writing this. Compared with the west end run final, I don’t feel an overwhelming rush of emotions this time. The show had only just ended when the No. 9 marquee outside began to be dismantled piece by piece. It reminded me of last April in the West End, standing at stage door and watching the props being carried out one by one with my friends.
From the first time I saw this show on 6 February 2025 to now, an entire year has passed (nearly). "Reece" has been “dead” for a year too (according to what they wrote. 😅 They didn't change the year into 2026 which I think is a clever design. It really feels that they actually managed to carry on the show for a year after the "accident"), and I’ve been living in this country for over a year as well. Inside No. 9 has come to an end, and I am no longer the carefree student I once was.
Hammersmith Apollo holds special meaning for me. In 1964, The Beatles filmed the opening staircase scene of Can’t Buy Me Love from A Hard Day’s Night on the fire escape of the building’s predecessor. Because of that, this place had always been on my personal pilgrimage list. Unfortunately, it’s quite far from central London. I’ve been to Hammersmith from time to time, but I never had the chance to properly visit this building. I never imagined that the first time I truly set foot inside would be to watch the very final performance of my favourite show, also the first show I saw in 2026. Now I'm a part of the history!
As soon as I exited the tube station, I hummed A Hard Day’s Night (hahaha) while rushing toward the theatre entrance, weaving through the concert-style zigzag security lines. Everyone was saying the same thing: so many people! Because I really wanted to keep a paper ticket as a souvenir, I left the scanning queue and rejoined the line for the box office. When I reached the window, the staff asked if I was collecting a guest ticket. That’s when I felt something might be off, but I still insisted on giving my name and ID photo, explaining that I was picking up the standing ticket I had grabbed the moment tickets went on sale. (hahaha I'm also a super fan of standing tickets. Sorry boys, you can't persuade me to spend more than I can afford～ x)
While the staff took some time printing the ticket, I glanced around and noticed several people collecting guest tickets. Sadly, no familiar faces. (But my friend who came quite late met Holly, she even tried to help her to get her tickets! she's so kind!🥺) It was very noisy, so I didn’t catch everything the staff said, apart from the final “enjoy.” I also didn’t look closely at the surprisingly high-quality ticket in my hand, rushing straight inside in search of merch. Unsurprisingly, the pin was sold out again… After months of searching, I still didn’t get one. 😭
When I reached the standing area, I realised the front row was already packed, and there didn’t seem to be any space left behind. That’s when I finally looked down at my ticket and saw that it was actually a stalls seat. I followed the seat number and found myself in a really good spot, slightly left of centre. A friend pointed it out to me, it was a complimentary ticket!!!
Just like the time I mysteriously got upgraded to the second row at Paul McCartney's concert, my ultimate show’s final performance still chose me in the end. 😭 I’m starting to believe the £2 I donated at Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day actually worked (hahaha).
I ran into almost every familiar mutual, took photos with many cosplayers, and met plenty of new friends. An American friend I met at West End stage door was sitting right in front of me. She and her friend had flown all the way from the US just for the final week. For me, this wasn’t just a goodbye to the show or to this particular era, but also a farewell to friends. Where will we meet again next time? Through No. 9, I’ve met so many people, and also said goodbye to so many. Every ordinary No. 9 day, every ordinary stage door moment… could it have been the last time we ever saw each other? (Ohhhhh😭）
Now — finally — the actual show repo:
Reece’s voice was extremely hoarse in this performance (poor him, get well soon!). I’d heard he was already hoarse the day before, but it was even worse at the final show, to the point where it felt like it was always Tommy for the entire show. However, I have to admit that this voice made him a better Tommy!
(A Friend: “He must have a cold, right?”
Me: “Probably. It’s freezing and he’s still wearing what he wore in October!!! Choosing style over warmth...)
As expected for a final show, every tiny pause was met with huge cheers and applause. During the opening banter, I don’t know why, but Reece’s lips looked unusually red! Maybe he got some fake blood on them? Tommy’s wig parting was also oddly placed tonight. During the kidnapping scene, Reece tried to push the door from the outside; it jammed briefly before opening.
Before the show, my mutuals and I had been guessing who the final guest might be Peter Capaldi? Mark encore? Or Bernie Clifton himself? But he’s already 89 — could he even move? (hahaha sorry Mr. Clifton) When the hostage came out wearing a mask, the figure looked a bit rounder, definitely not skinny, so it couldn’t be Peter Capaldi. By the guessing-name segment, I was already certain: Bernie Clifton!!!
The old gentleman either fully understood the assignment or completely didn't. He joyfully went off-script in multiple moments, leaving Steve and Dog laughing helplessly while desperately trying to steer him back.
Reece, meanwhile, was trying not to laugh, chewing his fingers, touching his beard, holding back tears, and constantly glancing past Bernie Clifton to look at his accomplice. 😭
Bernie’s highlights:
– Spanish: “Oui!”
– Flamenco dancing: “Hold me up, both of you!”
– Trumpet solo: mimed piano playing → then blew the trumpet backwards
He even treated us to a beautiful rendition of The Impossible Dream. Before that, he asked the audience, “Who thinks I’m already dead?” Only a few people raised their hands. Before leaving, he complained that “those two” had dragged him out of bed and shoved him onto a train — a pair of twats!
Reece really did seem ill for his jumping was noticeably reduced, and the spasms were fewer too. Some of the bottles and props in the background looked slightly repositioned. I think at some point there should be screaming in the corridor, but this time there wasn't. Is Reece in charge of this?
During the rehearsal segment, Steve laughed during some of the lines, but thankfully Bhav added a few lines to save the moment. The video section seemed slightly altered at the beginning (?). During the fake curtain call, Steve introduced the cast one by one 😭.
After “Every ghost story is a love story,” the two embraced tightly. Everyone: “Awww.”
Me: I genuinely thought they were going to kiss, but I guess age brings restraint. (hahaha, I'm joking)
At stage door, I hugged the friends who had accompanied me all this time, and we took photos beneath the marquee. I even ran into a mutual I’d met when travelling to Hull to see the show, right in front of McDonald’s at the station.
Yes, shows end. Since you can't always see these actors when there isn't a show, our attention will gradually shift; you might even move to another country. But what truly remains from a story about love and friendship may be friendships that cross language and culture. Time and distance may separate us, but we will always meet again within the same fandom.
As long as you’re still watching No. 9, still following everything about the two of them — no matter where you are, I’ll always be able to find you.
Ten years of No. 9 have come to an end, and so have my ten years as a student. I started watching No. 9 properly in my first year of university (in my country, a bachelor degree takes 4 years); when I graduated in 2024, the TV series ended, and now, with my master’s graduation, the stage show has ended too. I joked with friends that No. 9 is actually the true symbol of my “lifelong British obsession.”
I’m incredibly lucky. After moving to a new country, I found a sense of belonging in this community, one that made me feel less like a lonely outsider. @batatadulce9 joked, asking why it had to be two nearly 60-year-old men instead of The Beatles. I said The Beatles will never end, but with the end of No. 9 comes the end of my carefree student years. I’m not a child anymore. I have to become a tired adult now.
As the marquee was taken down, someone in the crowd said, “the end of an era.” When I got home, I found photos from the very first time I saw No. 9 and placed them next to photos from this final performance. I even deliberately wore the same outfit — from where it began, to where it ends.
But I placed the final-show photo before the first one, because an ending can also be a beginning.
Don’t be sad. The summer of the 21st century has only just begun.
Thank you, my all NO.9 friends @arinkyokuto @batatadulce9 @silverview @ivegotchickenstofeed @wintersoulwitch @varneysfangs @spcvarney @inanotherlife9 @vagueeyes (hope I didn't miss anyone :)) Knowing you is my best gift for the past year!!!!
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