After a Beautiful Gig...

So after a beautiful gig, and after-gig drinks, I found myself at 4am in Liverpool coach station with a three-and-a-half hour wait ahead of me for my coach. I had a book to read, music/radio plays to listen to and I also had my notebook.

My earphones were in and I was listening back to the gig from that night, making notes on it. What had worked, what hadn't worked as well as I thought it would, what had worked but not in the way I thought it would. Etc.

Not long after I had arrived, a man who I took to be a drunken man entered and milled around aimlessly for a bit before, in a pretty much empty coach station, sitting in the chair right next to me. I shifted uncomfortably. He sat next to me for a while just staring at me. By this point I wasn't really making notes, I was just trying to look like I was doing something. Then I decided I would get up and go and sit somewhere else.

As I pocketed my notebook, he leaned over to me, incredibly sinisterly, and said, incredibly sinisterly in an incredibly sinister voice;

"Can I shag ya?"

Now I am probably one of the last people to come to for advice on how to attract a mate but the top bit of advice that I would give is not to sound sinister. And to wash. Neither of these bits of advice had permeated into this drunken man's brain.

"No," I said sharply.

"Go on, let me shag ya," he said as I got up and moved to the other end of the bus station.

I sat back down and thought to myself, "There's probably a blog entry in this," when around the corner, he came. Lumbering from the other end of the bus station in my direction again. This time I didn't let him get near me, and I got up and moved to the other end of the bus station yet again.

Even though I was started to feel very creeped out, my overriding thought was politeness for my fellow passengers. There were a handful of people also waiting for coaches, some asleep. And I did not want to wake them up.

I got to the other end of the bus station (where I had been in the first place) and, sure enough, he was coming again, his weird, red blotchy face fixed in his sinister smile. A smile that didn't say, "I am a happy soul who has love to give," as much as, "I would probably honestly kill you on a whim." This time, I felt backed into a corner.

"Just fuck off!" I shouted at him, waking up some nearby sleeping persons (which I felt terribly bad about), "Or I WILL call the police!"

The smile had still not left his horrific face. He was still slowly advancing. Maybe he thought this was part of the game? In his mind, if someone were to yell, "Fuck off, I'll call the police," in what he thought was the dating game it is the same as a 'maybe.'

I continued shouting at him as he got closer (I knew moving to the other end of the bus station again wouldn't work this time), I got my phone out, symbolically more than anything, but he then reached and grabbed my genitals.

Despite a 'no' and an obvious attempt to escape him.

I am not a violent person, but there was nothing else I could do. I swung for him and hit him hard in his cunty face. It was in the interests of self-preservation, but I didn't like the feeling that had overcome me. Even though it was in self-defence, I had been made to lash out, and the feeling that goes with having to do that is that of wanting to cause serious harm.

I wanted to hurt him. A lot. I would seriously have not minded if this other human being had been caused severe pain and damage. I know it was his fault that instinct took hold of me, and so I resented him doubly for having made me do this.

He reeled backward and I heard a voice say, "What's going on?" A passing taxi driver had come in to get a cup of coffee from the vending machine. I quickly told him, and he told me where the security guard's office was. That was where I headed, knocked on the door, and at the sight of the security guard emerging, the drunken prick promptly left the coach station.

He hung around on the forecourt for a bit outside, and at one point pressed himself up against the window but didn't come back in.

Comedy or tragedy?

Completely the Opposite of What I Had Been Prepared For

I have not blogged the past two days, for a few reasons. Tiredness being the main one, access to the internet being another. But also something happened on Saturday night (well, 4 on Sunday morning) which shook me a little and if I were to blog, it would have had to be about that and to be honest I haven't felt like mentioning it yet.

But I'll blog about it soon. Maybe later today? I don't know why that was a question, there's nobody to answer it.

So I will use this post for now to say that the weekend in Liverpool was (until 4am on Sunday) just amazing. The second night (sold out this time, with over 100 more people in than Friday) was one of the best gigs of my life.

The audience were lovely, really, really nice people, completely the opposite of what I had been prepared for. I really haven't had a gig like that in a long time and it really buoyed me up. While I'm aware not all weekends will be like that, it showed me I could do it, and do it well. It, and the other gigs last week, also put that 'nightmare' gig from the other weekend into perspective. A success all round.

And I may be able to keep up my 'play-every-three-years' goal. Some people I know have asked me if I have any scripts as they want to take a play up to Edinburgh this year. And I quite like the idea of, firstly, writing something and then not being much involved after that and, secondly, ticking that arbitrary 3-year box.

Because my brain is a silly.

Joke Post #25

A joke I wrote on the coach;

"A man tried to sell me a wind-up radio but I wanted a real one."

My own personal rating of this joke; 3/5 (It is lame, but silly and knowing enough to get away with being more than a 2. Correct me if I'm wrong.)

Noticeable Difference

Last night went much better than I think I was expecting. I say 'think I was expecting' because looking back I have actually no idea what I was expecting. In my mind I've always had it that I am not a weekend comic and will always struggle to be so.

And of course if that is the overriding thought, then obviously I'll be terrified when it comes to doing a weekend club. But it felt like a slightly-tougher-than-normal gig. There was a noticeable difference but I didn't seem to flounder.

Of course, that was just one gig. Tonight could be utterly different, and until I've got lots of weekends under my belt I won't really know what sorts of gigs they are to play to. The gig last night I was quite happy with, truth be told.

After the one tonight, I have to hang around for my early morning coach. It's such an early coach that it is pointless getting a hotel so I might as well stay out and then head to the coach station.

New humour written last night on stage with a bottle of beer;

"I know most of you will be wondering, 'Is he old enough to be drinking that?' and I say, 'Yes! I am, alright?' And I think I've earned it after my paper round this morning."

Dive Off the Top Board

The BBC Three continuity announcer before Family Guy managed to say, "This episode was extremely controversial in Russia where one man tried to sue the TV station who broadcast it. What? Family Guy UNTASTEFUL!?"

When of course the poor little boy meant 'distasteful' I'm sure.

Today of all days I should not be sneery. I have one of the most important gigs of my life so far tonight and tomorrow (first paid weekend at a big club) and should be sending and receiving lovely snuggly positive vibes.

I've been and done a gig at this club before, the middle spot on a Thursday, and found it to be absolutely wonderful. In fact, every gig I've done in Liverpool has been beautiful so I'm hoping tonight and tomorrow will follow suit.

I am under no illusions that my meandering deconstruction of 'no dogs except for guide dogs' signs and comics' stock 'I look like so and so mixed with so and so' that both then culminate in pointing out how pointless both routines have been will probably not go down well in their full versions. Tonight has to be punchy, jokier and to some degree a little out of my comfort zone.

But I won't get any better at the weekend clubs if I don't do them, so I just have to dive off the top board as it were. That was a metaphor. It's not some weird comedy club that is held in a leisure centre, where triple somersaults with pike are every bit as important as punchlines. I was being figurative.

Although that would be amazing!

A Little Gig in Manchester

Last night I went to do a little gig in Manchester, given that I'm up North until the weekend. I was going to use it to do something I've only done twice now. Make out that my sketch group colleagues have deserted me and I have to perform a 5-man sketch by myself.

But then the audience began turning up and I didn't think that it would be worth doing, really. As nice as the ten audience members were, I would have felt really stupid and not given it my all. So it would have been an embarrassment.

However, because they were lovely, I used it to try some new things. I think the Bosch joke has expanded nicely and I ran through 'Black Country Barry' again, which also worked. It's still not really there, but it will get there over time. And I did forget to even refer to Black Country Barry in it like an idiothead.

I did get to see Michael Thornton trying new stuff out as well and I've not seen him gig for a long time. I've always thought he was really good, but he's gotten even better since the last time I saw him. He's definitely one of my favourite acts. Lolz.

Now I am going to have sit through the irritating continuity announcer on BBC Three before the episode of Family Guy comes on. They manage to get everything completely wrong, and not in an endearingly amateurish way but in a vexing idiotic way.

XS Was a Joy

XS last night was lovely, as usual. It went some way in exorcising the demons from my nightmare gig over the weekend. Which, having taken stock, really wasn't a nightmare at all. I thought I'd done terribly after some feedback from one punter in the audience and, while the last 5 minutes really didn't go well at all, the first 15 had gone perfectly well considering the difficulty of the gig and the promoter has since said he'd be happy to rebook me.

But XS was a joy. The Titanic thing is still going well, which I'm happy about and the Bosch joke has become quite a nice little mini-bit.

I'm doing something weird at a gig tonight instead of my normal set, because I quite want to experiment, and then at the weekend I've got my first proper weekend at a big club, which has seen the balance of trepidation/excitement restored to its usual ratio.

The Pope's 'I Love EVERYONE' Speech

Another entry handwritten on a coach, and I'm going to have trouble deciphering it on account of this coach seeming more rickety than most.

I'm off to Manchester to do one of the nicest clubs in the country, XS Malarkey, so I'm full of moer excitement than trepidation, which is an unusual balance for me.

I've been filling the journey reading the newspaper I bought at the coach station in London, in particular the transcript of Terry Pratchett's Dimbleby Lecture about assissted death and the Pope's 'I love everyone' speech.

Apparently, this country's equality laws are against the natural law. And it often amuses me when the 'natural law' is cited. Who enforces it? Of course, homosexuality (which is what he means) is against the natural law if the natural law were purely to simply procreate. But that's narrow-minded isn't it? To think the natural law is simply to procreate? If we were here just to procreate we wouldn't have evolved to be able to do all the things we can do?

And of course, homosexuality is completely natural. So how can it be against the natural law? Of course, the Pope and many others think that homosexuals will render our species extinct because they do not procreate. This coming from a man who is celibate.

Man taking to the skies is more contrary to natural law, is it not? And one wonders how the Pope will get to the UK for his visit?

Outside a Room of Doctor Who Fans

Breakfast was once again consumed in the bath so normal service is resumed. Though I deviated from fairground food and instead had a bowl of porridge. So I'm even a maverick when it comes to my own eating-in-the-bath rules. There is no stopping me. I am out of control.

As if by magic (or at least coincidence), to hand in hand with deciding to write a stand up show about geekiness and - dare I say it - being a sci fi fan, I have been booked again to do Doctor Who related stand up and interview a former Doctor Who actor at a convention.

This will be happening in May, when I was expecting to perform the show (untitled at the moment) at the Brighton Fringe. Although that is not happening now, this Who event in Manchester may be the first time I get to perform some of the material. Obviously I won't be doing the full show on account of there being many guests, all of more importance and interest than myself, to get through.

But there's no reason why I can't give some of the material a go when doing the 15 minutes of stand up I have to do, something which didn't go ahead at the last event (though went really well at the one before). But I did get to interview Sylvester McCoy so mustn't grumble.

Having said that, if I do the material there it might not be an indication of whether it will work outside a room of Doctor Who fans. Which it will fairly obviously have to do. But then, how often will I be able to do this joke and for the whole audience to get it?

"I'm aware that all I'd have to say to be controversial at a Doctor Who convention is 'Season 6... B.'"

Exactly.

Joke Post #24

A joke I wrote;

"Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Well it would've been."

My own personal rating of this joke; 3/5 (Quite a nice phrase, but a bit... Nothingy. Average)

The Answer is Most Elusive

A lot of times I sometimes wonder if audiences sit there looking at comedians thinking, "Why isn't he asking us what the difference between two things is and then telling us?"

Obviously they are not.

But I keep coming back to a conundrum. Stuff that goes really well most of the time just occassionally does not connect with some people and I'm still trying to figure out why. It can't be the audience. How can hundreds of different people in a certain room all be the same? The only thing they have in common is being in the room and from the same area. And yet the material isn't delivered any differently from when it's ripped the roof off.

A more seasoned comic will be able to go some way to explaining it to me, but I'm still pretty perplexed by how brittle comedy is. One of the first things you learn is that every comic, even big hitters, will have the odd stinker of a gig but part of the comics' DNA, I think, is to analyse why it happened.

To the audience, the answer is simple; it just 'wasn't funny.' But what confuses things is that to the audience at the previous gig it was 'hilarious.'

The actual answer is most elusive. Yes, comedy is quite obviously subjective, but it is the way that the subjectivity sometimes shows itself that fascinates me. As you may have gathered, my last gig did not go as well as I would have liked. I think I may have found why, but am not sure (see rest of this post).

I know full well that my appeal isn't as universal as many other comics, but it feels like I've been starting to overcome that recently. Not compromise as such, just find a way of making the stuff work a bit less divisively. I suppose that this gig feels more of a setback because of this. I've had worse gigs, much worse gigs, but this one came after having found a seemingly better way of delivering it. Not foolproof, just tighter.

Perhaps the answer is simple? I was not as good as usual at a tough gig. My brain won't let me leave it at though because it is a silly. It will be interesting to see how the next few gigs go. I think then I can put this one in some sort of context.

My Brain is a Silly

Unusually I was back from a gig before midnight last night. 11:15 no less. This, I thought, would be fantastic. Bed at a reasonable hour plus a Saturday morning lie-in would be utterly fantastic. However, my brain didn't let me.

Instead it said, "Hey! Normally you're back around 2 or 3, it's only 11! All that free time we've got back! Watch a film, go on. Watch a couple of episodes of something, go on. Check Twitter, play Solitaire. We have been given THREE EXTRA HOURS! Don't waste them."

I didn't watch a film, or a couple of episodes of something, or check Twitter or play Solitaire. I decided to just try and go to sleep. But I wasn't allowed.

My brain is a silly.

New Avenues of Humour

I managed to get a VHS copy (I'll transfer it to DVD) of some of Steve Martin's stand up for 25p. I've never seen any, bar the odd brief clip, and feel I'm missing out. By all accounts he was outstanding, and his book 'Born Standing Up' is a really interesting read, despite something of a mawkish ending.

I think the geek thing is definitely the way to go with the stand up show. Having talked it through with a few people it seems like it's the show I should write. It would be enough of a through-line to sustain a show, and I can work existing material into it fairly well. Not to mention, it's brought up new avenues for humour.

One such talking-through grew into some humour about sport being the acceptable face of geekiness when geekiness wasn't fashionable. The 'lads' who ridiculed a Star Trek fan in the 90s would know - just as much as (s)he did about Star Trek - about who was playing this weekend, in what leagues, in which town, who was in the squad, the sub's bench, had memorised every goal of the season so far, would talk in great length about strategies and gameplans of managers and even dress up in the 'costume' of their favourite team.

Things I Wanted To Do Today

Things I wanted to do today. but either stopped myself or could never, ever do.

• When signing in upon arrival at the charity shop, also sign in one Jimi Hendrix.
• When pricing up books to put on the shelves, stick a label on Eric Clapton’s autobiography for £570,000.
• Dropkick an infuriating old lady out of an upstairs kitchen window.
• Write a good blog post.
• Watch the last two episodes of Psychoville that Lovefilm haven’t sent yet.

Early Days, But I'm Excited...

I have sent off a pitch to a company for a script I want to write for them. It feels like a very important thing to do. I've never done it before. Now they will decide if they want to commission me to write the script. It would be phenomenally exciting if they did, but time will tell.

While I was working on the pitch to send off, which included a two-page sample scene, I realised I'd not really written a script for a long time. I start then never continue. This was brought home when Jon Brittain, who I am working with on a script, sent me a play he'd written. It was really good and made me want to complete a script for once. Well, for the first time in years.

Sketches don't count.

I'm also writing a stand-up show that may or may not be on at the Brighton Fringe, as well as forthcoming festivals. I'm intrigued by the perceptions and notions of 'geeks.' And the mindset that comes with being a fanatic of something, focusing on science fiction. I think there's a show in there. I noticed that over recent posts, a lot were about things what I noticed about Doctor Who fandom, and I reckon I could curb that into a premise on which to hang a show.

It's early days anyway, but I'm excited.