Triple Crowd

One of the great things about being based in London as a comedian is that there are loads of gigs every night of the week. Monday is traditionally the night of new material, where acts of all levels ry to work up new jokes into polished routines. Last Monday I went to the new material night at The Hob in Forest Hill, where I was also lucky enough to perform alongside acts of the calibre of Micky Flanagan, Daniel Kitson, Celia Pacquola and others trying out new stuff in a small room for no money.

Last night I had two new material nights in the diary so headed to Leicester Square with about ten minutes of new jokes. I've been writing some more political and topical material over the last few weeks and it's been interesting to see which bits work and which bits audiences either don't understand or don't find funny. Testing new jokes is always interesting. I find some jokes hard to let go of even if nobody laughs. I'm convinced they're funny and I'm determined to make them work. Sometimes this pays off. Quite often I admit defeat in the end, but only after trying them out a dozen times! Other times a joke I came up with on the bus to the gig gets the biggest laugh of the night, or an ad-lib suddenly lets a whole routine make sense. I don't think it's possible to write stand up in isolation. You have to keep testing it with audiences, moulding it according to their reactions. At least half of my favourite jokes came as the result of an improvised moment on stage, or an audience reaction. Hence the new material nights.

I was opening at 99 Club @ Ku bar, a lovely little room in the basement of a gay bar. Unusually for that gig it was quite a small crowd, and, despite the best efforts of the MC, by the time I went on they were pretty quiet and not a little resistant to the idea of smiling, let along laughing. This is always a tricky situation at a new material night. There's no point trying out new stuff if the audience isn't warmed up, but if you spend too much time warming them up you have no time for the jokes you actually wanted to do. In the end I went for a compromise of spending the first few minutes bantering and warming them up and then slipping in a few new routines towards the end. I had to work pretty hard to get them laughing, and it felt like a useful test of the bits I did get to try. And at least I had got the night up and running, for which the other acts would be grateful. Opening any gig entails some responsibility not to fuck it up for everyone else. I felt happy that I'd got it off to a good start.

On the way over to my other gig I got a text saying that Old Rope needed acts and was I around? Old Rope is a brilliant new material gig and there are usually great acts on, so I didn't hesitate to agree and dashed over to the Phoenix near Oxford Circus. I was on almost as soon as I arrived, and had a good gig. It was a bigger audience than at the Ku bar, and they were already a bit more warmed up, although they were still not the easiest crowd in the world. I did most of the new jokes I had planned to do, and some of them worked very well. I was particularly pleased with a new bit about banks having to apologise for their crimes. Some routines didn't work so well, or I fluffed them a bit because I couldn't quite remember the right wording. But overall it felt successful and I was happy that I'd had a chance to try everything new at least once that night.

The final gig of the evening was back in Leicester Square, in a tiny room above a small pub called the Round Table. The Round Table holds a special place in my heart. I have performed in there many times over the years, for many different promoters and many different clubs. It is ludicrously small, about the size of an average living room, although I've been in there with an audience of 60+, which was the very definition of a health and safety nightmare. I've performed in there with a mic, without a mic, with a huge spotlight, without a huge spotlight, and over the last seven years have seen at least three refurbishments of that room. In fact, one of my first ever gigs was in there. It was in August 2003, in the middle of a heatwave, and all I can remember was that the room was unbearably hot and I was sweating profusely, both during and after my set! I've seen a few big name comedians perform in that tiny space as well. I remember a couple of years ago Lenny Henry being completely freaked out by the close proximity of the audience and the fact he could see them all - a bit of a change from the massive theatres he's used to!

Last night the room was quite busy if not crammed, and the club had gone for the no mic and no lighting option which is probably sensible in such a small space. It's amazing how much difference not having a mic can make, though. I was the penultimate act in a very long night and I could feel that the audience were quite tired when I went on. It took me a while to adjust my delivery to the room. Without a mic it's quite hard to throw away lines and still be heard; you have to project more and be slightly less conversational. My other challenge was that about half of the audience were not from the UK and therefore were not quite as quick to pick up my topical or political references. I ploughed on though, even doing my new jokes about The Only Way is Essex, despite the fact that almost nobody seemed to have seen the programme! Overall the gig was fine: I finished with some tried and tested material so as not to bring the energy down, and left happy that I'd given my new jokes a decent run out at least twice and in some cases three times.

On the way home I popped back into Old Rope to catch the end of the headliner's set. Nina Conti was absolutely hilarious and just a little bit disturbing; the perfect mix for a ventriloquism act. Her use of an audience member "puppet" was absolutely inspired. It was a great way to end a hectic night.