Wednesday, October 20, 2004
alright, i've had a bit of a lie down and now feel ready to tell my tale:
This comedian walks into a wine bar and...no..that's not it...ok, um...hey Dublin, how you doing? it's really great to be here. Which reminds me, there was an Englishman, an Irishm...ah...no, that won't work...right...hello London, brace yourself cos i don't 'do' jokes....oh...Bigley's kidnappers said they'd consider releasing him if you all lau..oh...oh shit...i didn't know...sorry
And so it goes on. But enough of my daymares. What really happened was that every year the BBC do a competition for new stand-ups and every year I spend 2 months thinking about entering but always fail due to forgetfulness. This year I forgot to forget and on the very last day I cobbled together some 5 minutes of rambling bullshit, stuck an english address on it and had to have it couriered over to blighty to make sure it arrived on time. Before the money and package had even been handed over in my local post office, I'd already forgotten about it. Let me put it this way:
I'd LIKE to be a stand-up comedian. It'd be 'nice', i'm sure. But It's not my life's dream. In fact, as I recall, I'm scared beyond all measurements when it comes to speaking in public and not without good reason. (pedantic nasal voice) Many moons ago (/pedantic nasal voice) I stood for office at an institution, having gotten three other people elected to high office I just imagined that I could use all my best ideas to get myself elected too. The difference was: I wrote speeches for them. For my lazy, foolish self I imagined I could wing it with a bit of brandy in front of me. Instead, I simply stood in front of several hundred people and mumbled on a topic for 30 seconds i knew nothing about and then dried up entirely before announcing that I'd just died on stage. I wish I had. I wasn't even trying to make them laugh, just simply impart information and promote myself as a good candidate. I didn't even get heckled, by a bunch of drunked students, such was the pity and embarrassment we all felt for me. Such is the impact of that memory that it still ruins a couple of good wanks a year. For all of us.
So the other week I'm sitting around doing nothing and the thought suddenly enters my head to put my english mobile chip into my phone. It'd been a few weeks since I checked it and although I've been here for 6 months now I haven't quite let everyone know i don't live in england anymore. It's more enjoyable to reveal it many months after the fact, if then. And a message on the phone was left from a comedy promoter saying that i'd been selected and could I make this particular night at a comedy club in Surrey. It was already a week old and only gave me a week to prepare but in retrospect that made things better because i spent that week bouncing off the walls, pacing up and down the place reciting my refashioned 'set' and placing calls to all the funnymen i've ever known to get advice, encouragement and ideally, a method by which I could get out of this. It dawned on me that if the BBC hadnt given me the opportunity to do this, I never would. And I felt that perhaps I couldnt do this - what I needed was a good way out but instead I only got bloody reassurance and even a small amount of self-confidence from these chats. Damn these so-called friends.
This is taking too long. To summarise...
I take two days off to practice. I fly to England. Stay with someone funny. Treat myself in the delicatessens and boutiques of old London town. Go to the comedy club. Make friends with the staff, some of the punters and finally my fellow performers. There are 14 of us, plus compere and organiser / judge. The Beeb, no surprise here, have outsourced the competition to local organisers. It turns out 3 of us have never done stand-up before - all the rest are semi-pro and 'on the circuit'. What pleased me most was the lack of competitive bullshit from everyone. They all supported eachother and especially looked after myself and the two other new guys. And yes, looking down the list, it was a very representative bunch of comedic people. 14 highly middle-class names, 12 male, 2 female, all ugly. But to have a free comedy night where the audience have to sit quiet (no heckling allowed except at the compere) for over 3 hours is asking a lot and inevitably, those who went first had it easier. I went eleventh, on about the 2 hour 45 mark. I blame that not unentirely. I'm doing breathing and tai chi exercises before i go on. I'm swallowing expensive dark chocolates and flower remedies. I'm also fully out of cack so will be forced to poo empty air if the worst happens.
First joke - they LAUGHED! they LAUGHED! OH MY GOD! THEY FOUND IT FUNNY. THAT MUST MEAN THEY FIND ME FUNNY! I CAN RELAX! THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN JUST AS EVERYONE SAID IT WOULD. STYLE!
Second joke - Christ! they did it again. They WANT me to succeed! They're all looking at me and smiling. I'm taking heart from this.
Third joke - total silence. Oh shit. Too clever for them? Ah, I didn't speak into the mic did I? That'd explain it. Shall I explain it to them? (voices from several comedians enter my brain 'don't explain anything - move on for fuck's sake')
Fourth joke - Oh god. 2 all. Why aren't they laughing? Perhaps that joke isn't funny after all? Hang on. I'm not DOING jokes am I? Shit! This is going to be a long 7 minutes.
Fifth joke - A couple of laughs, some even in the right place. Ok. This is how it's going to go, fuck it, time to distance myself from the script.
Sixth joke - Yes! No longer going downhill, it's levelled out. The girl in the front row is giggling uncontrollably at me. I LOVE YOU! The rest of the audience are looking round wondering the fuck what. I can't say I blame them. What they don't know is that i've got less conventional jokes coming up.
Seventh joke - Right. That's it. Time to make a joke about them not laughing. Just have to think of one.
Ad-lib - HOORAY! they find me not being funny - funny! Better think of some more
Eighth joke - Some actual tumbleweed gusts in from nowhere.
Ninth joke - They laugh but not hard enough, goddammit! it's a good one, this. Almost gag-like. I fail to deliver it properly which doesn't help. By this time I have a certain group of people laughing at every joke. Unfortunately it's the comedians and compere in the back room. I vocally and explicitly start thanking them. It gets a laugh but i'm being serious.
Tenth joke - oh god! oh GOD! The look of incomprehension on their faces is almost beautiful in its sublimity. They are utterly lost. And then the follow up to this joke gets a good laugh so i move right on.
Eleventh joke - Fucking hell guys! Come on! That's FUNNY........Isn't it?
Twelth joke - I was afraid of this one from the start since it makes no pretensions to being a real joke. it's just some words slung together for comic effect. They look at me like i've just said something in Swedish.
Ad-lib about 'joke' 12: Hooray!!! they find that funny! And why not, it's richly taking the piss out of my pisspoor material. We all breathe a sigh. Theirs is of relief. Mine is just a sigh.
Thirteenth joke - The judge quite brilliantly PISSES himself laughing at this. The audience kind of think they get it and i appreciate their effort for that because it's quite esoteric. But everyone is looking at the judge.
Fourteenth joke - Silence is golden they say. But it's uncomfortable if you're showering in it.
Fifteenth joke - Is that the time? I should really, er, go somewhere or something
Sixteenth joke - Oh bollocks. It's audience participation time. I choose a guy in the front row who's already had a laugh with the compere. He looks exactly like Ben Johnson the disgraced Canadian sprinter from the late 80's. When I pick on him, he looks like he's ready to do the 100 metres in 9.87 seconds again but instead slowly grins and laughs. Incredibly, the audience find this so funny that they actually laugh. Quite a lot. This pleases me greatly. The back room comedians hold their end up and my greatest fan, the girl in the front row, is going to need stitches. I am SO HAPPY they're laughing.
Seventeeth joke - They laugh, they giggle, they puzzle. I think they're starting to come round.
Eighteenth joke - no they're not. They didn't get it and they didnt get the ad-lib afterwards.
Another ad-lib - this one, which was in fact a prepared line in case they really didnt laugh, gets the biggest laugh of my night so far. And no wonder - it's quite funny!
Nineteenth joke - Oh yes. Another one where everyone gets it.
Twentieth joke - FUCKING YES! the most conventional joke in the set gets a big laugh and a little groan since it's actually a crap pun. The judge is really loving it now. I'm really warming to it cos i know it's almost over and, MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL, i find i don't care quite as much that they're not laughing. I expected to be genuinely apologising by now. Perhaps I still am, but they're amused by it so I move straight on to joke 21.
Twenty-first joke - Oh bollocks. Come on people! What's wrong with you / me / the joke?
Twenty-second joke - Double bugger. Maybe they think I'm racist? But it's a joke again whites. Hang on, this is Surrey and they're all middle-aged.
Twenty-third joke - Nope. Not a jot. Quite political but i've decided they all read the Daily Mail so it's not surprising they don't get it. Or me. Or me them, I suppose.
Twenty-fourth joke - right. that's it. You FUCKERS! you WILL START LAUGHING. I regret to say I actually said that. And they obviously took notice. But not yet.
Twenty-fifth joke - Ah no. And somehow I knew it wouldnt go down well. But my old faithfuls, the comedians, the judge and the crazy girl all liked it. Time for another ad-lib and, yes, again they find it funnier than the actual joke.
Twenty-sixth joke - HOO-FUCKING-RAY! They get it. They love it. They laugh heartily and i've started getting the hang of delivering convoluted stuff. So i'm very pleased because it's one of the ones i was very afraid of.
Twenty-seventh joke - Yes! They laugh AGAIN. They ARE coming round.
Twenty-eighth joke - Good god it's going well this comedy stuff! They're laughing at it all and look like they're ready to carry on. All I have to do is supply them with the material. Oh shit...it's THAT one next. Oh well, I realise I don't care as much anymore so here goes...
Twenty-ninth joke - MAGNIFICENT. WHAT A BUZZ. GO ON, LAUGH GODDAMN YOU! I CAN TAKE IT. GO ON, FUCKING LAUGH.
Thirtieth joke - my last and it turns out my best. I'd been advised against it by some people and it's the rudest by far (in fact, there's only one other of a 'blue nature') but, middle-aged respectable Surrey duffers as they are, they absolutely EXPLODE when I deliver the punchline. It is the most wonderful thing to see a room fall about in laughter and disgust. Thank you. I love you all. It was all worth it.
So a big heartfelt THANK YOU to all of you who have laughed in the past - i wouldn't have done it without you. After the gig, the compere and the judge both made me promise i'd do at least 12 gigs before i even think about giving up (i was a little bit more dismissive of my performance at the time) and i then made a similar promise to some people closer to me. So i have to do it and i will. And i'm going to go on about it at some length from now on.
And you WILL LAUGH, GODDAMN YOU!
|
This comedian walks into a wine bar and...no..that's not it...ok, um...hey Dublin, how you doing? it's really great to be here. Which reminds me, there was an Englishman, an Irishm...ah...no, that won't work...right...hello London, brace yourself cos i don't 'do' jokes....oh...Bigley's kidnappers said they'd consider releasing him if you all lau..oh...oh shit...i didn't know...sorry
And so it goes on. But enough of my daymares. What really happened was that every year the BBC do a competition for new stand-ups and every year I spend 2 months thinking about entering but always fail due to forgetfulness. This year I forgot to forget and on the very last day I cobbled together some 5 minutes of rambling bullshit, stuck an english address on it and had to have it couriered over to blighty to make sure it arrived on time. Before the money and package had even been handed over in my local post office, I'd already forgotten about it. Let me put it this way:
I'd LIKE to be a stand-up comedian. It'd be 'nice', i'm sure. But It's not my life's dream. In fact, as I recall, I'm scared beyond all measurements when it comes to speaking in public and not without good reason. (pedantic nasal voice) Many moons ago (/pedantic nasal voice) I stood for office at an institution, having gotten three other people elected to high office I just imagined that I could use all my best ideas to get myself elected too. The difference was: I wrote speeches for them. For my lazy, foolish self I imagined I could wing it with a bit of brandy in front of me. Instead, I simply stood in front of several hundred people and mumbled on a topic for 30 seconds i knew nothing about and then dried up entirely before announcing that I'd just died on stage. I wish I had. I wasn't even trying to make them laugh, just simply impart information and promote myself as a good candidate. I didn't even get heckled, by a bunch of drunked students, such was the pity and embarrassment we all felt for me. Such is the impact of that memory that it still ruins a couple of good wanks a year. For all of us.
So the other week I'm sitting around doing nothing and the thought suddenly enters my head to put my english mobile chip into my phone. It'd been a few weeks since I checked it and although I've been here for 6 months now I haven't quite let everyone know i don't live in england anymore. It's more enjoyable to reveal it many months after the fact, if then. And a message on the phone was left from a comedy promoter saying that i'd been selected and could I make this particular night at a comedy club in Surrey. It was already a week old and only gave me a week to prepare but in retrospect that made things better because i spent that week bouncing off the walls, pacing up and down the place reciting my refashioned 'set' and placing calls to all the funnymen i've ever known to get advice, encouragement and ideally, a method by which I could get out of this. It dawned on me that if the BBC hadnt given me the opportunity to do this, I never would. And I felt that perhaps I couldnt do this - what I needed was a good way out but instead I only got bloody reassurance and even a small amount of self-confidence from these chats. Damn these so-called friends.
This is taking too long. To summarise...
I take two days off to practice. I fly to England. Stay with someone funny. Treat myself in the delicatessens and boutiques of old London town. Go to the comedy club. Make friends with the staff, some of the punters and finally my fellow performers. There are 14 of us, plus compere and organiser / judge. The Beeb, no surprise here, have outsourced the competition to local organisers. It turns out 3 of us have never done stand-up before - all the rest are semi-pro and 'on the circuit'. What pleased me most was the lack of competitive bullshit from everyone. They all supported eachother and especially looked after myself and the two other new guys. And yes, looking down the list, it was a very representative bunch of comedic people. 14 highly middle-class names, 12 male, 2 female, all ugly. But to have a free comedy night where the audience have to sit quiet (no heckling allowed except at the compere) for over 3 hours is asking a lot and inevitably, those who went first had it easier. I went eleventh, on about the 2 hour 45 mark. I blame that not unentirely. I'm doing breathing and tai chi exercises before i go on. I'm swallowing expensive dark chocolates and flower remedies. I'm also fully out of cack so will be forced to poo empty air if the worst happens.
First joke - they LAUGHED! they LAUGHED! OH MY GOD! THEY FOUND IT FUNNY. THAT MUST MEAN THEY FIND ME FUNNY! I CAN RELAX! THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN JUST AS EVERYONE SAID IT WOULD. STYLE!
Second joke - Christ! they did it again. They WANT me to succeed! They're all looking at me and smiling. I'm taking heart from this.
Third joke - total silence. Oh shit. Too clever for them? Ah, I didn't speak into the mic did I? That'd explain it. Shall I explain it to them? (voices from several comedians enter my brain 'don't explain anything - move on for fuck's sake')
Fourth joke - Oh god. 2 all. Why aren't they laughing? Perhaps that joke isn't funny after all? Hang on. I'm not DOING jokes am I? Shit! This is going to be a long 7 minutes.
Fifth joke - A couple of laughs, some even in the right place. Ok. This is how it's going to go, fuck it, time to distance myself from the script.
Sixth joke - Yes! No longer going downhill, it's levelled out. The girl in the front row is giggling uncontrollably at me. I LOVE YOU! The rest of the audience are looking round wondering the fuck what. I can't say I blame them. What they don't know is that i've got less conventional jokes coming up.
Seventh joke - Right. That's it. Time to make a joke about them not laughing. Just have to think of one.
Ad-lib - HOORAY! they find me not being funny - funny! Better think of some more
Eighth joke - Some actual tumbleweed gusts in from nowhere.
Ninth joke - They laugh but not hard enough, goddammit! it's a good one, this. Almost gag-like. I fail to deliver it properly which doesn't help. By this time I have a certain group of people laughing at every joke. Unfortunately it's the comedians and compere in the back room. I vocally and explicitly start thanking them. It gets a laugh but i'm being serious.
Tenth joke - oh god! oh GOD! The look of incomprehension on their faces is almost beautiful in its sublimity. They are utterly lost. And then the follow up to this joke gets a good laugh so i move right on.
Eleventh joke - Fucking hell guys! Come on! That's FUNNY........Isn't it?
Twelth joke - I was afraid of this one from the start since it makes no pretensions to being a real joke. it's just some words slung together for comic effect. They look at me like i've just said something in Swedish.
Ad-lib about 'joke' 12: Hooray!!! they find that funny! And why not, it's richly taking the piss out of my pisspoor material. We all breathe a sigh. Theirs is of relief. Mine is just a sigh.
Thirteenth joke - The judge quite brilliantly PISSES himself laughing at this. The audience kind of think they get it and i appreciate their effort for that because it's quite esoteric. But everyone is looking at the judge.
Fourteenth joke - Silence is golden they say. But it's uncomfortable if you're showering in it.
Fifteenth joke - Is that the time? I should really, er, go somewhere or something
Sixteenth joke - Oh bollocks. It's audience participation time. I choose a guy in the front row who's already had a laugh with the compere. He looks exactly like Ben Johnson the disgraced Canadian sprinter from the late 80's. When I pick on him, he looks like he's ready to do the 100 metres in 9.87 seconds again but instead slowly grins and laughs. Incredibly, the audience find this so funny that they actually laugh. Quite a lot. This pleases me greatly. The back room comedians hold their end up and my greatest fan, the girl in the front row, is going to need stitches. I am SO HAPPY they're laughing.
Seventeeth joke - They laugh, they giggle, they puzzle. I think they're starting to come round.
Eighteenth joke - no they're not. They didn't get it and they didnt get the ad-lib afterwards.
Another ad-lib - this one, which was in fact a prepared line in case they really didnt laugh, gets the biggest laugh of my night so far. And no wonder - it's quite funny!
Nineteenth joke - Oh yes. Another one where everyone gets it.
Twentieth joke - FUCKING YES! the most conventional joke in the set gets a big laugh and a little groan since it's actually a crap pun. The judge is really loving it now. I'm really warming to it cos i know it's almost over and, MOST IMPORTANTLY OF ALL, i find i don't care quite as much that they're not laughing. I expected to be genuinely apologising by now. Perhaps I still am, but they're amused by it so I move straight on to joke 21.
Twenty-first joke - Oh bollocks. Come on people! What's wrong with you / me / the joke?
Twenty-second joke - Double bugger. Maybe they think I'm racist? But it's a joke again whites. Hang on, this is Surrey and they're all middle-aged.
Twenty-third joke - Nope. Not a jot. Quite political but i've decided they all read the Daily Mail so it's not surprising they don't get it. Or me. Or me them, I suppose.
Twenty-fourth joke - right. that's it. You FUCKERS! you WILL START LAUGHING. I regret to say I actually said that. And they obviously took notice. But not yet.
Twenty-fifth joke - Ah no. And somehow I knew it wouldnt go down well. But my old faithfuls, the comedians, the judge and the crazy girl all liked it. Time for another ad-lib and, yes, again they find it funnier than the actual joke.
Twenty-sixth joke - HOO-FUCKING-RAY! They get it. They love it. They laugh heartily and i've started getting the hang of delivering convoluted stuff. So i'm very pleased because it's one of the ones i was very afraid of.
Twenty-seventh joke - Yes! They laugh AGAIN. They ARE coming round.
Twenty-eighth joke - Good god it's going well this comedy stuff! They're laughing at it all and look like they're ready to carry on. All I have to do is supply them with the material. Oh shit...it's THAT one next. Oh well, I realise I don't care as much anymore so here goes...
Twenty-ninth joke - MAGNIFICENT. WHAT A BUZZ. GO ON, LAUGH GODDAMN YOU! I CAN TAKE IT. GO ON, FUCKING LAUGH.
Thirtieth joke - my last and it turns out my best. I'd been advised against it by some people and it's the rudest by far (in fact, there's only one other of a 'blue nature') but, middle-aged respectable Surrey duffers as they are, they absolutely EXPLODE when I deliver the punchline. It is the most wonderful thing to see a room fall about in laughter and disgust. Thank you. I love you all. It was all worth it.
So a big heartfelt THANK YOU to all of you who have laughed in the past - i wouldn't have done it without you. After the gig, the compere and the judge both made me promise i'd do at least 12 gigs before i even think about giving up (i was a little bit more dismissive of my performance at the time) and i then made a similar promise to some people closer to me. So i have to do it and i will. And i'm going to go on about it at some length from now on.
And you WILL LAUGH, GODDAMN YOU!
|
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