THE OPINIONATER: SHOW 5

SHOW 5: 6TH AUGUST 

Fuck this audience. Or fuck half of them anyway. The half that walk out. Fuck that half. That half that walk out in drips and drabs from about 10-20 mins mark. Particularly fuck the ones that go later in the pack. At least the initial ones have the benefit of being in the vanguard of some ill-informed movement. At least they are pioneers in their own bad taste, there is a certain nobility to their action. Double fuck the later ones who follow like little sheep. Particularly those who, after giving them the opportunity to leave if they don’t like it, stay on for two more minutes just to maximise the damage when they do eventually leave. 

And fuck the man who goes “off to the toilet” and never comes back, leaving his partner on her own for the remainder of the gig. And fuck the woman who wasn’t even at the gig but came in at about the 45 minute mark to retrieve the woman who had been abandoned by her partner, apparently sent in by the toilet guy too cowardly to return to scene of the crime. 

And fuck two guys who almost stick it out to the bitter end but are offended by some innocuous criticism of Scotland, who can’t even handle a jibe at their own country without their entire sense of identity crumbling before their eyes. 

Then also fuck the people leave the gig but stand outside the curtain deliberately talking loudly to make it almost impossible for the audience to hear me over the mic. Then further fuck them who when asked to keep quiet deliberately scrape stools across the stone floor to create massive shrieks of noise.

And finally fuck me for having the stupidity to plough on with such a ridiculous charade rather than talking the whole gig down with me in a fit of self indulgence. Fuck me for salvaging what remained of a crippled wreck of a gig and limping home instead of storming out of my own gig and or the Fringe Festival and giving everyone a spectacle. 

I would also like to thank the half who stayed without whom the rest of the gig would not have been possible.  Thanks to those who remained despite everything, especially when the cascade of leavers threatened to turn into a torrent. A special thanks are in order to the two American gentlemen who entered the gig at around the half way mark and, blissfully unaware of the previous carnage, go on to throughly enjoy the show: thus providing a model for all future audience behaviour.  

I would also like to pay tribute to anyone who may have been in the audience and has never been at a comedy gig before and will probably never go to one again. That is all I have to say about today’s show. 

TV COMEBACK SPECIAL - 14TH AUGUST 2016

14TH AUGUST 2016 -  SHOW 11

BEFORE SHOW 

Went to watch a load of shows today. I am feeling buoyant and inspired and upbeat. I have eaten two lots of sushi and a significant amount of coffee.  

DURING SHOW

An absolute debacle from start to finish. 

There is a palpable lack of traction from the off. There is a strong resistance in sections of the audience to even BEING an audience. In the front row, stage left, there are three older middle aged people. They clearly think that coming here was a mistake almost before I open my mouth. They keep looking at each other in a “What is this?” way. They seem to holding a conversation by staring daggers at each other and periodically me. 

They will become a running sore throughout the gig but like communism I stupidly try to contain it. 

My second routine, about vitamin D, gets interrupted by some distraction, that I can't now remember, and I judge it not worth going back to. I decide to bring forward a routine from later in the show but this just further bewilders the audience. 

I have moments where I try to chat to the audience to bring them in but I am not sure if this is a mistake because it breaks up the rhythm and for what benefit exactly? 

I have a section in the show where I list as many vodkas as I can remember. It works on the audacity and tedium. Some nights I list about 50 vodkas. If I can deliver it correctly it the laughter builds up. Tonight the laughter does not build up. Generally if people are enjoying the show they will enjoy it more at this point. Conversely if they are not enjoying it they will enjoy it less. Tonight as many of them are already hating it, well, this finally breaks the audience but not in the way I intended. 

About ten people leave at this point and finally the three people at the front leave. It is only now that I realise that one of them is on crutches. He leaves very slowly and it is a long room. So he storms out at a snails pace. I cannot have dead air forever. At some point I have to talk and so I start commenting on it. And It becomes really funny. Certainly the highlight of the gig. I have to strike a balance. I cannot mock the afflicted too much. But neither can I pull my punches. He looks in bewilderment at the humour. Why has it got funny now that he is leaving? Is this some elaborate trick being played on him? I certainly hope this episode melts his brain. 

I adlibed for around five minutes on this. I am not sure this is the right thing to do. It does relieve the tension but it comes too late in the show and is in many ways an admission that, with fifteen minutes to go, the show is effectively over. 

AFTER SHOW

I don’t think I have ever tried to bludgeon an audience into liking a show as much as this before. I kept thinking I could break them up until the vodka stuff and then that was it clear that they intended to break me.

I think I may be going deaf too. After the show some audience members complained that they were constantly distracted by the talking of the three people in the front row. I couldn’t even hear them talking and could only feel their hate waves.  With hindsight I should have given them the opportunity to leave and that would have lanced that particular boil. I thought I could play to the rest of the audience and ignore them and to be honest I was kind of getting off on them hating it too. But I guess in non ticketed shows you should sometimes let them go. 

May have been over caffenaited too. At times my tone was sounding a bit over aggressive with audience member and this wasn’t intentional. 

Pretty much stuck to time today so despite absence of laughter I did keep to my rhythm. Am I supposed to take any solace from this whatsoever? 

Made more money in the bucket today per head than any other show in the run? What does that mean?

EDINBURGH FRINGE - 13TH AUGUST 2015

SHOW 6

13TH AUGUST 2015

AUDIENCE: 25

WALKOUTS: 4

LENGTH: 1 HR 2 MINS.

BEFORE

Today is my forth gig of the day (including a prior 1 hour play). I have been up since the crack of dawn (9am) I am feeling bouncy. 

As the audience come in, I get the impression they may be trouble. One woman sits in the acts area, an area from which you cannot see the stage, so totally pointless, and I suggest she moves. She grudgingly accepts but she seems drunk or mad. As I prepare to start the show, I go behind the bar to switch off the house lights. The husband of the drunk or mad woman warns me about revealing the location of the light controls as his wife may fiddle with them during the show.  He doesn’t appear to be joking either. 

DURING

Despite feeling buoyant before the show I realize in the opening minutes of the show that I am tired. I have no extra gear. The beginning is not quite gaining the momentum that I would wish. I feel that I am not on my game. That I am making small unforced errors. That I am not landing the material. They are also a heckly audience from the off. I am not sure whether they are taking their cue from me or would be like this even if I had been on my game? There is man down the front who looks like a metal head head and who is a cat lover. He keeps putting in his five pence worth. I cant even get through the initial routine about Kittens without his chipping in. I think this sets the tone for the rest of the audience. There are an older couple who chip in, in their case I may be almost prepared to except that they are helping. The older woman shouts something about “The Worlds End” Pub. This is a reference to two murders in 1977. The Worlds End Pub is about 100 metres from my venue. Despite this, the reference goes over my head. I am now totally devoid of cultural references, even famous murders from the 1970s. 

During the AIDS routine a woman shouts out in an indignant tone “You are Socially irresponsible!” She seems adamant that now would be a really good time for a discussion on public sexual health. 

I am not entirely sure how to deal with this. I can’t exactly break character to admit it is just all a comedy routine but neither do I wish to engage with an argument on her terms. So I kind of fudge it by suggesting to the rest of the audience that she doesn’t quite get it. I haven’t exactly broken character but I have stretched it. 

I then address her directly and suggest that she may meet with an accident. I mean it in a light hearted way - a light hearted accident. But my tone is all wrong and it sounds like a genuine threat. It is merely misjudgement due to tiredness and not anger but it sounds bad. I am worried it could alienate the rest of the audience here. So I have to acknowledge that I went in a bit hard and joke around it. But I am having to sweep up mess from mistakes I wouldn’t ordinarily be making. 

Given that the AIDS routine is a controversial routine at the best of the times, and that today it has been besieged by problems, it is a minor miracle I have kept it on the road at all. I am actually impressed by the fact I hold the show together at this point. 

I cannot legislate against people’s stupidity.If they turn up at comedy shows and take everything at face value some people are going to get upset. I am not prepared to accomadate people’s obtuseness. 

During a subsequent heckle on the other side of the room, the “Socially Irresponsible” woman leaves along with a couple of other faint hearts. I could sense she wanted to leave for some time but would not budge so long as I kept my eyes on her. But as soon as I was distracted she slipped out. That is the power of eyes.

A lot of the usual punchlines are not landing today but then at individual points the show suddenly comes alive unexpectedly. This happens four of five times. Where the show catches fire for a bit before reverting to type. This makes me thinks that the audience are there for the taking of only I can nail the performance. 

AFTER

This is the worst performance of the show I have done. I was tired throughout. I had no second gear. The timing was off and I wasn’t always landing things. I had to focus hard all the time. It felt like I was sitting an exam. This coincided with the most lively (i.e badly behaved audience) I have had to date. Still most of the time I felt that I wasn’t really fighting them, I was fighting myself. I could probably have cruised it on an easier audience but . At times I was running on conviction alone. Still I was heartened by the way I held the line on this and kept the show on the road, it never fell below a certain level and there were individual moments where it really flew.  This was a good bad gig.

Bromley 16th January 2014

16^th January 2014

 

Bromley

 

Before Gig.

This room is like a giant banqueting hall. It is designed to hold around 400 people but tonight there are nearer 60 people in attendance. They have sat themselves around the edges - - an entire periphery with no centre. Except, the two sides of the audience do not connect across the front.  The way they've assembled themselves resembles male pattern baldness. There is no compere per se rather the bar manager has a clip-board and he confesses to me before he goes on stage that he has never before introduced a show. I am guessing this is going to be hard work. 

 

During Gig

I guess correctly. This gig is an uphill struggle from the off. The applause dissipates before I get to the microphone. I find it difficult to generate any momentum.

There are only two tables that I can actually see from the stage. They are stage right and stage left with an empty table between them – the bite out the donught. I cannot see any other tables. This is partly a result of the stage lights and partly a result of the curvature of the earth that is clearly visible in this giant banqueting hall. This will come in handy later on when I will be unable to see their ambivalence and merely sense it intuitively.

This is fairly up market audience but they seem to turn their noses up at the thought of heroin making me think they are not proper posh just noveau riche.

“Beer isn’t alcohol” I state later.

“Yes it is!” corrects a lady (table right). 

Sigh.

She is of course factually accurate but, alas, her search for the truth is misplaced in a comedy show. Her literalism will be her undoing as an audience member. If there is state of mind half way between pedantry and confusion then this woman resides there and will stay there for the remainder of the gig.

Nevertheless the ill judged intervention affords me the opportunity to do this routine as more of a conversation piece as though I am persuading a sceptical friend. Initially, I like the turn this routine has taken tonight. For a moment, I am hopeful, but I am never destined to get to the end of it as a bigger heckler is on the horizon. Just as I am about to recommend drunk driving to the audience (that would probably have invited another outburst from my obtuse friend at the front) I am heckled by a woman mid way up the audience (and thus invisible) “Looking at porn on the internet?”  This feels more of an 'in' with the audience and I take it. I am desperate to build a rapport. There is banter back and forth along the lines that I may get together with this woman after the show. She is clearly well into middle age (and possibly beyond) so the joke should be that I am hitting on one of the less eligible women in the audience and, I don’t how I know this - - but I can tell that she's overweight. Indeed this is confirmed shortly afterwards when a man at the back heckles her regarding her size. From then on I feel hamstrung. I keep thinking to myself “don’t say she’s fat”. I now feel I am fencing with one hand tied behind my back.

I feel I have exhausted the banter with this woman and I return to material but I am still finding it hard to get moving on the routines. As the gig goes on this hall is getting bigger. The walls are moving outward. The gap between the front table expanding. This woman will heckle again but it will never reach the giddy height of me claiming to fancy her. There will be more banter. Occasionally her table will break out in a sort of separate gig but they will always return to the polite ambivalence of  audience. There will even be a point later on where I accidentally say she is fat and she won't mind and the audience won't mind but neither will they like it either and I will feel a bit dirty.

 

There comes a point where I realize things aren’t going to get better and I totally relax and the gigs just bumps along. There is not a scintilla of malevolence from the audience but there now seems to be a mutual understanding from both performer and audience that this is as good as it gets. The room stops getting bigger.

 

I am keen to encourage any audience participation. There is a man right at the back who previously was heckling the woman heckler who has decided to start heckling proper and aim it at me. However he is so far away that it is a bit like trying to hold a conversation with an elderly relative in a wind tunnel. Since I cannot hear what he is saying, his heckles have to be passed on by a relay system, intermediate tables have to hand the message on. It feels a bit old fashioned, maybe like the way heckles may have been done in Victorian times. Actually, I wish I’d made that observation about it.

Edinburgh Festival - 25th August 2013

25th August 2013  Pleasance Court Yard 

23rd show in the run (2nd last)

Length 50 minutes

I consider myself a professional. I don’t believe in being a diva or indulging my petty moods or whims. Audiences can be tough, skeptical, cold, lacking in energy. Audiences can not warm to me and sometimes they can instantly hate me on sight. Sometimes they do not share my humour or are puzzled or perplexed or unamused or want me to fuck off instantly. Sometimes they may want me to die in a ditch. All these responses are legitimate and exist within the gamut of acceptable audiences reactions. This is all grist to the mill to a comedian. It is part of the job. There is nothing more satisfying than winning around a skeptical audience. Sometimes the gigs I am most proud of are not the ones that went the best or had the most laughter but the gigs where I made the best of a trying situation. sometimes I sense a difficult audience from the off and think “this is going to be work” but I don’t shirk away from it. I do not expect gigs to be handed to me on a plate. I am a professional and I believe that the show must go on almost at any cost. I do not believe in giving up or walking away but tonight I should have given up and walked away. I have done approximately 2500 gigs and have never faced tonight’s situation before. 

A live performance does not just involve an isolated performance on stage,  a live performance exists between the performer and the audience. There is a dialogue between audience and performer. Even if they are not actually talking or laughing. There is body language there is an energy. The man staring daggers is in a dialogue. The women who looks at her watch and won't make eye contact is in a dialogue. The man who sits with his hands folded and a permanent scowl on his face for an entire hour is still in a dialogue with the comedian. Believe it or not he is giving something to the comedian. Comedians sometimes claim “that audience gave me nothing” this is invariably untrue. It is just that they didn’t give them what they wanted. 

Tonight’s audience are giving me nothing. They have breached new levels of zen nothingness. I am well versed in the audiences who won’t speak or respond to a question but there is invariably some twitch of the mouth, some glint in eye, some fidget of their hand to indicate that their brain is at least processing what is going on. On some level of body language there is always a response. There is always a dialogue going on. 

Tonight there is no dialogue going on. Tonight it is zombie central.   

I introduce myself on the offstage microphone. “Please welcome to the stage Stephen Carlin.” Nothing. 

No applause. Nothing.

This has never happened at any show I have ever done at any Edinburgh Festival show, ever but it is happening tonight, 

I take to the stage. “Good Evening” Nothing. 

“How are we?” Nothing. 

“Can you talk to me?” Nothing. 

“Welcome to Gambling Man. Give me a cheer if you gamble.” Three people at the back row cheer. 

“Give me a cheer if you Don’t Gamble” This always gets a big response. Nothing. 

“I think there is some people not voting here. Come on if you don’t gamble give me a cheer.” Nothing. 

“I think some people are abstaining here. Have you spoilt your ballot.” Nothing. 

No sound. No modicum of movement from the two front rows to even suggest I have stepped on stage. They stare ahead like the undead. 

Nothing in my career as a comedian had prepared me for this, nothing in my experience as a human being has prepared me for this either. Two thoughts pass through my mind.   1. I have become a ghost. Or  2. The audience are doing this on purpose as part of some weird social experiment. 

And here I should have ended the gig...

and walked off. 

I have never experienced such a non response, ambivalence would have been a God send. But I don’t walk off, I carry on. Tonight I am truly disgusted by my professionalism. I should have walked off 

or deconstructed the gig, 

or driven it into the ground

or provoked walkouts. A car crash would have been better than this. 

I should have walked off and told the audience to get their money back. Audiences have a duty to bring something to the gig, even if it is only indifference, 

hatred

or an different expectation of comedy. 

Edinburgh Festival - 17th August 2013

17th August 2013  Pleasance Court Yard 

16th show in the run

Length 55mins

There is something unique about a Pleasance Court Yard audience on a Saturday Night that is impossible to replicate anywhere else. That distinctive blend of bustle, excessive drunkeness and random choice of show exhibited by an audience, coupled, at times, to a show wholly incompatible with their taste. That mix of confusion, anger and indignation when they have chosen badly.  At times, playing a Saturday night crowd in Edinburgh, can feel like flushing a blocked toilet. There seems to be a blockage somewhere down the line and no matter how hard you try you cannot shift it. 

My venue is a small room. The doors are opened five minutes prior to show time and this is more than adequate for the audience to get in. I stand behind the curtain and listen to the audience as they come in. Whenever I hear the audience come in and then go out to get drinks/ use the toilet in the five minute period. Whenever they cannot even sit on their arse for five minutes, I know there will be problems. I can hear one group coming and going. I can hear them go out, come back in, become disorientated and shout at their friends to locate their party. I can hear their unsuitability for this gig.  Just as one person comes back so another seems to leave. Eventually the all seem to be briefly in the room. We start.

During Gig

A sell out audience. The audience reception is warm but there is definite back/front divide with the front being the warmer. I greet the audience “Hello, how are we?” There issue three separate complaints. 

“It is is hot” - it is hot, I can confirm that. It is already styfling at the start of the gig even with the air conditioning on.

A man complains “I am drunk”. - He is drunk I can confirm that, and not in a good way.  He complains in a pained way as though it isn’t his doing. 

“It is cramped.” - Aren’t all fringe shows? 

There is no lighthearted quality to these complaints. They are heartfelt and there is an edge of anger to them. They give the hint that they don’t expect me to be merely entertain, they expect me to fix their day. The group at the back, who I suspect were the people going in and out, start chatting amongst themselves. They are middle age and I can sense their drunkenness. It is a drunkenness which even as they speak, is mutating into something more ugly. In the intense heat, a malaise is setting in. They are becoming angry and ill simultaneously. It is not unrealistic to expect that one of them will vomit/faint/die of dehydration/start a fight.  Despite the stakes tonight, I feel very relaxed. More relaxed than I have at any point this run. This is my space now, it is my run and I will deal with whatever happens when it happens. I stamp on the talking right away. I tell them I won’t stand for it and that they should sit back and enjoy the show. I don’t do this too aggressively, I don’t want to put more aggression into the room, but they need to know the ground rules from the start. They shut up. I don’t think it has put tension into the room but the start struggles to catch alight. It is only when I do the lottery stuff that it catches. Maybe this will be OK. The “We are all lucky” goes down well but I have a feeling of walking on egg shells. I insert a new routine about Amanda Knox. I ran this in at a few late night shows last night and it starts strong but then wanes. I don’t really think the routine’s to blame. The audience are suspicious of me period. 

“Mirapex” really gets little and the “Just a number” section fails to elicit anything either humerous or dramatic. I think this is the first time it just hasn’t worked on any level. 

As I launch into all my sugar material, there is movement at the back. The middle aged group at the back start leaving. Just as I do the line “I am out of here” one of them goes “so are we” It reads funny on paper but it got nothing at the time. I joke around the idea that they were waiting for an appropriate line in order to leave. Just as I get things moving again so another two members of the group get up to go. I think in all seven leave. I comment on their delayed response to the others leaving. One of this second group shouts some insult in a thick scottish accent that even I cannot make out and then departs. What did he say? We will never know. I hope now having removed this malevolent presence the audience will now build but it is a futile hope. 

The “Dentist” and “Hairdresser” provides the strongest bit of the gig but they can’t inject the momentum. “Dad Embarrassment” doesn’t work. It is usually one of the more emotionally interesting points of the show but it doesn’t connect.  I have remained very relaxed throughout the gig but now I am aware of delivering the material a little too aggressively in a futile bid to lift things towards the end. I try going into “Tipping Point” in a more conversational way and although this engages the audience initially it doesn’t turn things around. 

I really am trying to play this gig for the minority of them who are enjoying it. If Edinburgh is about finding your audience, then I suppose you also have to loose other people’s. Tonight I am mainly shedding other people’s audiences. Everyone is very hot now. People have fashioned fans out of flyers and brochures 

I am still confident that despite the adverse audience reaction I can get them with the end. I believe in the end. Problem is no one has told the audience. 

“Probability” is the last time that I get any strong reaction from the audience. The whole end piece about “Nate Silver” falls flat and it is the the first time since I reworked it that it hasn’t worked. This ending has the ability to lift even a mediocre gig and thus its failure is a damning inditement of the audience’s lack of trust in me. The end is a rant and there is something inappropriate about a rant today. Perhaps they believe I am actually losing it? But I don’t feel angry, I just feel disappointed. I have to loose myself in the rant a bit and I have been trying to keep the gig personable up until now. Perhaps in losing myself in the rant, I loose the bond with the few of the audience who are on board?   I knew this gig would be a struggle but having got it through to end i thought i could lift it up. I reference the people walking out into my rant. This gets a laugh but perhaps also convinces them that I am seriously losing it. And that is it the end of the show. I almost don’t know what to say. “Dunnah” That was the big ending. You missed it folks because you don’t like my comedy.  The venue staff think I may be annoyed at the people who walked out but I am just disappointed I couldn’t turn it around for those who remained. 

After Gig

I tried to perform the shit out of this today. I feel it was my best performance despite the reaction of the crowd.  

The trouble is that as the festival goes on, so the show gets more honed, the material gets more slick and I get more confident in it. Thus my ability to force something down the throats of a reluctant audience increases. But with that ability comes the anger of those who are being force fed. Or is that not a positive thing? I don’t know.

Edinburgh Festival - 10th August 2013

10th August 2013  Pleasance Court Yard 

10th show in the run

Length 55 mins

Before Show

The Pleasance Court Yard is mayhem tonight, there are people everywhere . My show starts late and I don’t know why that is. The House has been open for ages and people are coming. There is clearly some problem. The entrance music loops around three times and still we don’t start. I stand behind the curtain and I here this conversation: 

“Gerry. Sit there. Sit there. Don’t sit fucking there. You’ll get destroyed. Sit down the front and you’ll get fucking destroyed. Are you fucking suicidal?  Well bring it on. No one is going to fuck me up. I’ll fuck them up. Have you got a beer? I need a beer. Hold on. I am sitting there. No you sit there. I am ready for this. Bring it on. I’m going to sit there and you can sit there. Arghhhh!” some thing like that. 

During Show

As I enter there are three men on the front row worthy of note. They all have skin heads although I am not necessarily implying they have far right politics. One has a thousand yard stare as though he has seen too much. He stares into the distance and has his arms folded in a permanent pose that doesn’t alter once throughout the entire gig. One sits with his head in his hands from the off as though he is either a) about to vomit b) has been sitting in a sauna for a long time and is reaching the limits of his endurance c) is traumatised by some as yet unknown event d) realises in advance how little he will enjoy this show. The third guy who feels like the pack leader, has intense blue eyes that seem to promise physical violence. The room is very small we stand about 1 metre apart. He stares at me, I stare at him. I don’t want to stop staring at him because he will have won. So I stare back and he stares back and so on.  As I start the show the rest of the audience seem to sense they are mere by standers in some kind of personal duel. The opening stalls and when they don’t go for the “It’s 1970s” line. I know we are in for a slog of a gig.  

There is an odd atmosphere in the room that I cannot pinpoint the exact nature of it.

During the “Professional Gambler” there is an outbreak of chatting between the staring man and a guy in the row behind. He is with them too. There is at least four of them. 

I sort out the chatting but I basically loose this routine as a result and this annoying because it is a strong part of the show. The next routine hinges on “Professional Gambler” it too so it doesn’t really work either. 

I reset and stand further back on stage. This seems more comfortable. The staring man smiles. But is it a sincere smile? Or the smile of someone who thinks that it is shit? Perhaps he can’t help having the eyes of a wolf?

“Mirapex” they are semi on board with this but they don’t really like the reference to Dyslexia. I now openly berate them for being too socially conservative. I tell them that is the routine I used to judge an audience and they have been found wanting. I tell them they are below average for one of my audiences. This gets laughter but not much. Nevertheless the fight back starts here.  There is something that is compelling about the “Just a number” routine that they don’t really go for but then there is genuine gasps at the end of it. I suppose this is where it gets down and dirty. 

During the “Understanding Addiction” section there is audience interaction around the subject of tablet. I let this run on in an attempt to build rapport but in hindsight it runs on too long and lets the audience too out of their box.  There is a guy who heckles about tablet. He starts amiably enough but he will grow to become a nuisance. 

The Dentist routine is strong but they don’t get “Hairdresser”. I keep thinking I am getting them on side only to realize that I am not. They are annoying socially conservative. Needless to say “Dad Embarrassment” They just don’t go for. 

There are jokes about racism that rely on the assumption that racism is a bad thing and should be avoided. I realize that myself and parts of the audience are not on the same page on this one. 

“Adults are Weak” there is multiple heckles from the Tablet Guy during this section I return to it and finish it but any momentum is shot to pieces. 

“Feel the Fear”  I don’t feel inclined to try the new version of this tonight. As it happens we will never know. It is interrupted by the tablet guy again and this time I abandon this routine. There is heckling during the “Kid” routine just on the approach to a punchline. I try and salvage the situation but inevitably the punchline gets less. I explain that it would get more if there were weren’t heckles on the run up to a punchline. This is where I fall out with the Tablet man. Every heckle is “tablet” or “buy tablet” and I am genuinely contemptuous of this man now. His lack of imagination is getting on my tits. The interruptions I can take but he has all the creativity of a car alarm. 

I bash out “Tipping Point” and “Probability” in an attempt to build momentum to the end but as soon as those routines are done the momentum dissipates at the mention of Nate Silver. The End fails to make the impact I want and I decide to round up all the “characters” and incidents that have featured in the show in an attempt to round things together. I mention that I would like to boot the tablet man “up the arse” this draws a shocked “ohhh” from the audience. It is a figure of speech but even at this stage their respect for me is so tenuous they don’t give me the trust to kick someone up the arse without being metaphorical. 

After Show

Two things didn’t happen that I thought would happen. 

There would be walkouts ( and often you just wish they would go) 

The would be a breakdown of gig with open hostility breaking out: didn’t happen. Was it ever really close to this? Felt like it. 

What does it feel from an audience point of view when it teeters on the precipice? Are they aware just who close it is to crashing and burning? Or do they think you are holding it together? Do they just think there is something unsatisfying but they cannot put a finger on it? Do they just think you are shit? 

I think I gave hecklers too much leeway in an attempt to break the ice and get momentum going but I think it made the show too chaotic and upset the narrative. 

I couldn’t get any traction tonight and I could feel an odd resistance from the audience throughout. Particularly during interaction which would usually break the tension there was a reluctance to go with stuff even when they enjoyed it. Afterwards I find out that there was a party of 16 in (one third of the audience) including the three guys in the front row. I don’t think it was their cup of tea and they intimidated the rest of the audience into ambivalence. Or perhaps the rest of the audience were ambivalent on their won merits? But here is the difference I could have bullied the rest of the audience into liking it I couldn’t bully those 16 guys. I don’t feel I know anything about comedy today.   

Edinburgh Festival - 4th August 2013

4th August 2013  Pleasance Court Yard 

5th show in the run

Length 45 minutes.

I have forgotten exactly what a bad gig at the Edinburgh festival feels like. That inevitable  whiff of hostage situation that emerges between you and the audience (except sometimes real life hostages start to develop a rapport with their captors). That initial hope that things maybe able to be turned around. The eventual realisation that it is not going to get better for either party but like a bad marriage you plough on out of misplaced sense of duty. 

That shared belief that the other party doesn’t know what the hell they are doing. The moments when you preview the upcoming material in your head, listing all the routines that the audience are about to not enjoy. Flashbacks except from the future. It hasn’t happened yet and already I am traumatised by it. The dwindling faith of the audience as they increasing come to the conclusion, that I will never pull a rabbit from the hat. The conviction I have that even when I do it will be mistaken as a pile of shit, after all I am now viewed as a man who doesn’t know what the hell I am doing. And yet it didn’t have to be this way. It was all going so well at one minute in... 

Before Gig

I feel more relaxed today than at any point during the fringe. Today is the first day I have had nothing else on other than my show. I have a sauna at lunchtime. I try to get into a play about Gordon Brown- it is sold out. I have more time at home to run through the material and practice facial movements in the mirror. I practice the opening of the back stage, finding new ways of saying it. I really feel it is coming together. The audience sound up beat as they come in. The microphones are working perfectly today. I don’t need a piss. My legs ache from the Edinburgh hills.

During Gig

I say good evening. I ask the audience how they are. A man nods, a man belatedly says “good”. It provides a jumping off point for some banter. This is probably the best opening of the run although I am not doing material yet. Two guys come in late, the first latecomers of the run. They apologise for being late. They had just come from a gig by the “Red Bastard” . I misunderstand this and think they are saying “some bastard kept them late” more banter so far so good. We clear up the confusion. They say “the red bastard was good, you better be fucking good.” They mean this playfully but it comes out as aggressive and I treat it in the spirit it was intended instead of treating in the tone it came out as. In hindsight I should hammer them at this point. They have challenged my authority but I feel I have the audience onside and instead I play with it too much. Of course, I am fucking good, haven’t you seen how the others shows have gone? Obviously they haven’t. Didn’t you see me at Joke Thieves last night? No they didn’t. Didn’t you see me showcase last night? Apparently not. But this is what I am thinking. It is my room. Nothing to worry about. So i go into material, i start the show and I can see now this looks like a retreat. The start just doesn’t work. The “but its the 1970s line”, always lands. It doesn’t tonight. Shit. Trouble. “His wife had four jobs”, always kills, tonight tepid response. I don’t worry, I think I can get traction, but as I move from routine to routine it doesn’t build.

At about ten minutes the two late comers leave. They are polite as they go. It is obviously a verdict on me. I am glad they didn’t hang it out. There is a noticeable lightening in the mood as they go. There is relief. The gig rallies briefly. But after a brief Indian Summer it slumps again. There are two couples who are enjoying bits of it and if only I can get a few more of those people I can build this up. I really try to work on eye contact and making it as coversational in tone and as personal as possible, but I can’t hook other people in. I am sweating now. It is hot but am I worried? Probably. I get some routines in the wrong order and this can only be pressure. I play it professional to the end. I keep trying to make it work. I keep acting as everything is Ok. I don’t think there is anything to be gained by admitting the obvious. I keep it polite. Do they think I actually think it is OK? Do they think I am mad. 

I don’t think there is much point breaking down material in this report. The gig was so fucked little can be gained from moving from routine to routine and comparing them. 

After Gig

I don’t think I could take another gig like this at the festival. It would kill me. There was no press in tonight. Thank God. No one need ever know about this gig. 

New - 7th June 2013 - Corporate Sussex

Friday 7th June 2013.

The Middle of Nowhere Sussex

Prelude

The gig is a corporate. Corporates are tricky. In a comedy club the public come into your world. At a corporate we go into theirs. Often at corporates feature one comedian only, they have no moral support from colleagues. Often at corporates the punters don’t even know they are getting comedy. It is a “surprise” from the Boss. When the punters are told there is a surprise they imagine a stripper or a free bar or a cash bonus. Instead they get one of us - a comedian. The punters are almost always universally disappointed with the “surprise”. Often there is no stage as such and no introduction, you just have to “start”, while everyone else is still chatting oblivious to each unaware what this madmen in a navy blue suits is doing. What is he saying? Has somebody left their car lights on?.

Tonight’s corporate is for 200 stockmen. What are stockmen? They are men or women who look after live stock. The event is some kind of farming trade fare. They want me to do some stand up comedy on my own. Two sets of 30 minutes, with an interval in between. I say no way. I am not going on twice. Corporate gigs have a far higher disaster rate than club gigs. What if they don’t like me the first time? What I am booed off? How can I come back? I decide to split the gig with another comedian. We will do 30 minutes each. We will split the fee. We will share the blame. We will share the ignomy. Perhaps it will be OK?

Before

The venue is a building. A long Prefab building reminiscent of a World War 2 Nissen Hut. The are men, women and children sitting at long tables. There is much alcohol being consumed. There is much banter and high spirits and laughter. The comedy hasn’t started yet. It will be OK.

They are serving food. Looks like steak pie and I want some. I cannot get some. I now realize I haven’t eaten since Breakfast. (worry not kids only midday, for I am a lazy comedian)  I have been saving myself for this meal that I won’t now get. I order two pints of Coke. The barman wants to charge me for the Coke. “You don’t have a ticket mate. You need a ticket.” There is a French barman too. He is laissez faire. He gives me the drinks for free. Everything is going to be OK. I drink them both. I am now feeling headachey and nauseous and I can’t concentrate. It is not going to be OK.

During

The other act is going on before me. It has been agreed I will introduce him.

I therefore have to just start. I pick up the mic and stand from the edge of the room and walk towards the centre of a massive concrete dance floor. Where should I set the microphone? Where should I make the stage? I pick a spot. I attempt to speak over the din of punters having a good time. But they cannot hear me they are having a good time. Enough of that, now for the comedy. The microphone only goes up to very loud and they are louder than that. They can’t here me.

“Hello...hello...can I get your...if I could get your...hello....” Eventually the din dies down for a second. I get them to applaud and I bring on the first act. The audience have a fleeting interested in the gig. People walk back and forth across the stage to go the toilet. A bar stands near the stage which serves continuously during the comedy. Farmers stand at the bar offering a variety of derogatory comments about the comedy. Children play near the comedian indifferent to his presence. Punters sit at tables and chat oblivious to the comedy. Some people heckle but in no co-ordinated way. There is one table in the centre who sits in morose silence. They are the zenith of the audience. The opening acts does as well as anyone can do in the circumstances. He comes off thinking he has done badly. The audience thinks he has done badly. The promoter thinks he has done badly. I know he has done well. With hindsight he will be the highlight of the show. The audience meanwhile emboldened by their ability to wreck a stand up comedy set go into the interval refuelled on alcohol. It is not going to be OK.  

As I am brought onto the stage for my set, the situation seems to have deteriorated. Perhaps I am offering up excuses. Perhaps it just looks more difficult now that I am the one at the microphone. The audience guerrilla tactics seem more organised now although paradoxically things are more anarchic. It becomes impossible to be heard at the start as they wont stop talking. A men gestures to turn up the volume. The volume is already at 10, it doesn’t go any higher. 200 people are chatting as I attempt to be heard.  Some of them shut up for a bit and so I start. Not enough for my actual words to be heard but enough so the rest can hear that I am saying something. As I start my second routine the whole audience shuts up briefly. They listen to one routine, it is about drinking, it is about as accessible as I get. They don’t like it. They start chatting again. The chat is too loud to hear heckles.  I decide the situation is unsalvageable. I need to do lock down. Just perform my set as though it is going well and hope enough of them are drunk enough to think that it is going well. I lock down. Then a 3 year old boy called Georgie wanders onto  the stage and stares at me, big eyed in wonderment and perplexity. I cannot ignore. You cannot ignore a three year old kid. I crouch down to talk to him. The audience shut up and are focused. I put the microphone to Georgie mouth. He says “Do you have any jokes?”

I say “Somebody told you to say that.” He responds “yes” and nods. Georgie’s conversation then dries up. He’s 3 he doesn’t have much to say but he won’t budge he stands there and the audience love him. Georgie is the centre of attention. Can I string this out for thirty minutes? The answer is of course no. Georgie wanders off. The chatting starts again. I can barely be heard. I try to bash through a routine. Somebody shouts “Give Georgie the microphone”! things are now so bad that I don’t take that as an insult but as a sensible suggestion. For a brief second I seriously consider it. Would I still get the fee If I allowed a three year old boy to finish my set? Probably not. Now one woman has started doing the “crash of the symbol sound effect” to denote a hackneyed or predictable punchline but she is doing them at set up lines which even under normal circumstances are not supposed to be funny. The thing is she could do the sound effect at the punchlines which also aren’t getting laughter but the effect is to add further chaos into the room. Georgie is back again briefly he has nothing new to say but they listen to him. Then he is off and the chatter doubles. It is impossible to get through a routine now. I have to tell them I am going to tell them a line and then say the line and the audience erupts in chaos and then i have to tell them i am going to give them another line and so on. My routines are now further disjointed just in case there is any risk of them working and there isn’t. I have lost track of time. I feel like I have been up here forever. Maybe it was only twenty minutes? I leave. They applaud surprisingly generously. They are pleasant people who hate the comedy. They have had an hour or their lives wasted but there appears to be no rancour. We walk out unafraid of being physically harmed.

After Gig

I have never had a strong opinion of the countryside. I have always had fantasies of concreting over the whole lot and putting Portakabins on it. I have many opinions of the countryside all of which are ignorant and ill informed and based upon blind prejudice. I drive off thinking of the Alan Partridge episode where he upsets the farmers. I agree with many of Alan opinions as expressed in that episode. I am in a car but fear that a large cow may be dropped upon me. This worry in misplaced. They were nice people who didn’t like my stuff. I sent a text to my agent “Clusterfuck”.