The strangest thing I've seen this week was a young woman on the tube in rush hour with a bow and arrows slung over her back. I'm amazed the staff let her through the barriers. I wonder if she's ever tried that at an airport? It would probably just inspire confusion.
I started to speculate about why she had the bow and arrows. I hope it wasn't for self-defence, because I think in a struggle you'd be better off with a can of Mace or a fistful of keys. With a bow and arrows you'd barely have time to pull back the string before the mugger would be half way down the street with your handbag.
On the other hand, it might actually be a pretty good deterrent. It's easy to see from a distance, and you'd have to be a pretty confident attacker to decide to pick on a girl with a bow and arrows. After all, she could be a Vampire Slayer. Or an accidental time traveller from the Medieval past with a bad attitude. Or simply insane.
Monday 22 October 2007
Tuesday 16 October 2007
Topical Schmopical
I had a (nice) gig at Hull University on Sunday night, and returned to London on Monday early afternoon. Practically the first thing I saw as I got off the train was an Evening Standard billboard reading:
"DEADLY SKUNK FLOODS LONDON"
For a couple of seconds I thought I might have entered a B-movie! I half expected to see terrified people in masks fleeing from a massive Pepe Le Peu creature spraying his lethal gas around. It turned out to be about drugs, which was disappointing.
I immediately wrote it down as an amusing observation, and indeed got some good laughs from it at my gig last night. However, I was well aware that as a topical joke it had a very short half-life. Other, more well-known, people were bound to make the same kind of observation so if I mentioned it too many times I might end up being accused of stealing it. It turns out I was right. Oh well. Great minds think alike, etc.
There was another great headline yesterday on the front of thelondonpaper:
"TORIES LOSE £8.2m FROM INSANE DONOR"
I considered writing a joke about that, but then thought I'd just wait and listen to the News Quiz on Friday instead. Or read Private Eye next week.
"DEADLY SKUNK FLOODS LONDON"
For a couple of seconds I thought I might have entered a B-movie! I half expected to see terrified people in masks fleeing from a massive Pepe Le Peu creature spraying his lethal gas around. It turned out to be about drugs, which was disappointing.
I immediately wrote it down as an amusing observation, and indeed got some good laughs from it at my gig last night. However, I was well aware that as a topical joke it had a very short half-life. Other, more well-known, people were bound to make the same kind of observation so if I mentioned it too many times I might end up being accused of stealing it. It turns out I was right. Oh well. Great minds think alike, etc.
There was another great headline yesterday on the front of thelondonpaper:
"TORIES LOSE £8.2m FROM INSANE DONOR"
I considered writing a joke about that, but then thought I'd just wait and listen to the News Quiz on Friday instead. Or read Private Eye next week.
Wednesday 10 October 2007
The traveller returns
Well thankfully the Scottish gigs were lovely. Dundee was a particular pleasure, and Edinburgh was nearly as good. They restored my faith in student audiences. To be fair, most student gigs are fun - it's just badly set up ones at late night balls that should be avoided!
It's always odd for me to return to Edinburgh for the Comedy Network gig, because it's held in the Pleasance Cabaret Bar, where I performed in The Comedy Zone at the Fringe in 2005. The room is laid out slightly differently, but the smell is identical, and as soon as I walked in it immediately brought back memories of the great gigs and the not-so-great gigs we had that month. It feels like a very long time ago. The little dressing room at the back is almost exactly the same as well. It's plastered with posters and flyers from Edinburgh shows and the Comedy Network from around 1997-98. Most of the names are familiar, indeed many of them are very successful now. It's strangely inspiring to know that people like Lee Mack, Chris Addison, Al Murray, the Boosh etc all performed there. And then there are a few names that I've never heard of, which is conversely slightly depressing.
The city is much quieter without the Festival. Instead of lots of tourists wandering around there are a few students. Most of the venues have reverted to being cupboards, store-rooms or holes. And the Pleasance Courtyard is not a bustling centre of excitement, networking, drinking, whinging and flyering. It's just a car park. Quite disconcerting. The only reminders of the madness of August are a few weather-worn posters on abandoned properties; most of them are ripped down within days. That's why the Cabaret Bar dressing room is fascinating: Edinburgh posters are usually transient and disposable. That room is a snap-shot of a particular moment in comedy, which also happens to be around the time I first performed in Edinburgh. I hope they don't re-decorate any time soon.
It's always odd for me to return to Edinburgh for the Comedy Network gig, because it's held in the Pleasance Cabaret Bar, where I performed in The Comedy Zone at the Fringe in 2005. The room is laid out slightly differently, but the smell is identical, and as soon as I walked in it immediately brought back memories of the great gigs and the not-so-great gigs we had that month. It feels like a very long time ago. The little dressing room at the back is almost exactly the same as well. It's plastered with posters and flyers from Edinburgh shows and the Comedy Network from around 1997-98. Most of the names are familiar, indeed many of them are very successful now. It's strangely inspiring to know that people like Lee Mack, Chris Addison, Al Murray, the Boosh etc all performed there. And then there are a few names that I've never heard of, which is conversely slightly depressing.
The city is much quieter without the Festival. Instead of lots of tourists wandering around there are a few students. Most of the venues have reverted to being cupboards, store-rooms or holes. And the Pleasance Courtyard is not a bustling centre of excitement, networking, drinking, whinging and flyering. It's just a car park. Quite disconcerting. The only reminders of the madness of August are a few weather-worn posters on abandoned properties; most of them are ripped down within days. That's why the Cabaret Bar dressing room is fascinating: Edinburgh posters are usually transient and disposable. That room is a snap-shot of a particular moment in comedy, which also happens to be around the time I first performed in Edinburgh. I hope they don't re-decorate any time soon.
Sunday 7 October 2007
A tale of two gigs
My last two gigs could not have been more different. Stand up is a weird job because before every gig you have no idea what might happen, who'll be in the audience or what the room will be like. Although in the case of these two gigs, I had a pretty good idea what the night would be like when I got to the venue, and I turned out to be absolutely right.
On Friday I performed my first full 20 minute set at Banana Cabaret in Balham. It's a lovely club and I've always enjoyed my time there. This time was no exception. I played to a near sell-out crowd of people who were attentive, playful and intelligent. Everyone on the bill had a good gig and I enjoyed myself on stage more than I have in ages. I hadn't played to an audience of more than a hundred for a few weeks, and it's always very rewarding to be able to take a bit more time with the jokes, leave longer pauses, play with the timing. As I left the venue I thought: "That is why I do comedy!"
And then on Saturday I was at Loughborough University Freshers Ball. The contrast was extreme. The comedy was placed in the middle of a noisy bar that was also a thoroughfare between a smoking area and a dance floor. It didn't get going until nearly 11pm, and there were several of us booked to perform until 2am. Within seconds of the first act going on it was clearly a write-off. Nobody in the room was listening, partly because it was difficult to hear above all the ambient noise, and partly because they were very drunk students. They immediately started to shout, chant, heckle and jump in front of the stage. All of the acts tried to make something of the situation but it was a lost cause. By the time I went on at about 1am the room had calmed down a little, but my time was still spent dealing with 5 or 6 persistent, drunk and stupid hecklers and trying to tell a few jokes for the benefit of the 4 people who seemed to be actually listening. It wasn't exactly a tough gig - it just wasn't a gig at all. As I left the venue I thought: "That is what I hate about comedy!"
I'm going to Dundee tomorrow and then Edinburgh afterwards. I hope they're more like Friday than Saturday.
Otherwise I might cry.
On Friday I performed my first full 20 minute set at Banana Cabaret in Balham. It's a lovely club and I've always enjoyed my time there. This time was no exception. I played to a near sell-out crowd of people who were attentive, playful and intelligent. Everyone on the bill had a good gig and I enjoyed myself on stage more than I have in ages. I hadn't played to an audience of more than a hundred for a few weeks, and it's always very rewarding to be able to take a bit more time with the jokes, leave longer pauses, play with the timing. As I left the venue I thought: "That is why I do comedy!"
And then on Saturday I was at Loughborough University Freshers Ball. The contrast was extreme. The comedy was placed in the middle of a noisy bar that was also a thoroughfare between a smoking area and a dance floor. It didn't get going until nearly 11pm, and there were several of us booked to perform until 2am. Within seconds of the first act going on it was clearly a write-off. Nobody in the room was listening, partly because it was difficult to hear above all the ambient noise, and partly because they were very drunk students. They immediately started to shout, chant, heckle and jump in front of the stage. All of the acts tried to make something of the situation but it was a lost cause. By the time I went on at about 1am the room had calmed down a little, but my time was still spent dealing with 5 or 6 persistent, drunk and stupid hecklers and trying to tell a few jokes for the benefit of the 4 people who seemed to be actually listening. It wasn't exactly a tough gig - it just wasn't a gig at all. As I left the venue I thought: "That is what I hate about comedy!"
I'm going to Dundee tomorrow and then Edinburgh afterwards. I hope they're more like Friday than Saturday.
Otherwise I might cry.
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