Saturday, 7 December 2013

Joke Thieves 3rd December 2013


Joke Thieves 3rd December 2013 – Downstairs at the King's Head.

When I first heard about the idea behind 'Joke Thieves' I thought it would either be: a horrendous car crash of a gig or a stroke of pure genius. In case you are unfamiliar with the concept of Joke Thieves then let me explain. Joke Thieves is a live comedy format pioneered by Will Mars. In the first part of the show, comedians perform a regular set of their own material. In the second part the comedians swap over and perform each other’s sets and by doing so have free reign to duplicate, spoof, parody, deconstruct or destroy the other comedians set.  Comedians have no advanced warning (i.e. prior to the show) of the material/act they will be asked to replicate. You may have about 10 minutes thinking time but that is about it. Basically it is spontaneous the way all those panel shows pretend to be.


Before Gig
I have previously performed at Joke Thieves on four occasions and every time I have felt pretty relaxed about it. Tonight however I am feeling pretty jumpy. Perhaps it’s because it is a long time since the last one I did? Or maybe because Joke Thieves is now becoming a phenomenon? Even before the show kicks off, there is a real sense of expectation from the audience. It feels as though they have seen this before and know where the level is. I am rather enjoying the nerves; I am feeling like a newbie. Downstairs at the Kingshead is where I performed some of my first ever gigs. Tonight, again, I have that that feeling of excitement/fear/out of my depth-ness. 


During Gig                                                                                                                                                           First off, all the comedians are paraded on stage and paired off by a member of the audience. I am matched with Pierre Novellie. He is a tall man with a beard and a mongrel accent that contains a strong hint of South African but by no means is typical of the usual South African lilt. It is not the most outlandish pairing, he is not exactly an anti-Stephen Carlin. We are both male, neither of us do a character, neither of us possess a frenetic energy. But neither is he similar enough to afford that opportunity to exaggerate tiny differences. I am in a no-mans-land. He is too similar, he is not similar enough. Pierre is up immediately before me. I have to watch his set closely, attempt to remember his material and punch lines, observe his manner, his delivery, his rhythm of speech, try and capture the essence of him in five minutes. I am watching his set. I am paying attention but I am not really paying attention. I am distracted by the fact that I will have to do my own set shortly. I can’t quite focus. I jot down notes but they are the kind of notes that I will look at in a few moments and say “What District 9? What about his Uncle who is a Game Keeper?” Pierre talks about his South African background as a vehicle for moving into observations about London Crime versus South African crime, The Lion King, Margaret Thatcher, the film Blood Diamond. The competing demands of my imminent performance versus my need to watch Pierre’s set is stewing my brain. I am neither preparing nor properly listening to him. Is this what it is like to have kids?


Pierre ends his five minutes of material and now I am due on stage. I haven’t fully decided what material to do even as I take to the stage. I end up doing a teeth heavy set with routines about dentistry and a girlfriend that had teeth that were way too small. Some acts are very strategic and perform material they think other acts will find it difficult to replicate. I don’t do that, either all my material is easy to copy or I am incapable of thinking strategically (tactically?) at all. The set goes well but that is the easy part. Milo McCabe follows me with one of his characters. He is on stage for five minutes and then suddenly I have to go back on with the set of Pierre Novellie. 

For some reason, I think I have ages. In the past there has been an interval before parts one and two and I mistakenly think this applies tonight. I am gripped by a lack of grip quite frankly. It is not until Will Mars reminds me “you’re on next” that I realize I am at DEFCON 1 or whatever the high one is.  I have rudimentary notes of Pierre’s set but I can’t quite decide the angle of attack. Do I try an impression? I decide against attempting the accent. I don’t think I could sustain it for five minutes and besides his accent is too layered and subtle for me to give it any kind of justice. I can’t really remember the set clearly. I am unable to assimilate information. You know when somebody is trying to count and you shout random numbers at them until they loose count. Well I now feel like the person who is trying to count.

I don’t think I have ever done Joke Thieves so unprepared. On all previous occasions, I have had a definite idea of the line I am going to take. Not tonight. 

I start with saying “I am South African” in my usual accent “But I moved to the white enclave of The Isle of Man to avoid accusations of racism” from there on but there is no real plan. I am riding on the goodwill of the audience, possibly a hangover from my previous five minutes on stage. 

At moments I appear as if I don’t know what I am about to say next. This is because I really don’t know what I am about to say next. I find myself, at points, staring at the audience ruminating on what is to follow. This generates laughter, the laughter of expectation. The audience think I know what I am doing. After all only a person who really knows what they are doing would look like they are working it out. Wrong, I really am working it out. I wonder if this is a technique I could use in my set generally? I am making sections of it up as I go along. As I say it, it is as much a surprise to me as the audience. The Joke Thieves audience also get into the spirit of things so I am unsure how much leeway they are giving the performers (possibly a lot?). This performance is more a pastiche than any accurate portrayal or forensic dissection. It seems to work but I am not sure whether I have fluked it or stumbled on a better approach.  


After Gig
I haven’t had as much fun performing a gig in ages. It has highlighted to me how restrictive my regular set can be and the sheer possibilities stand up offers. It is easy to get into a tunnel vision idea of how to perform my material so when I see somebody else perform my set the possibilities open up.  And when I perform their set, there is no historical legacy of the material to me so I am constantly just thinking, “make this funny”. Everything feels really vital and in the moment. What is great about Joke Thieves is that it forces comedians to go for broke and this to be honest happens relatively rarely. Once ensconced in the world of paid weekend work I find myself invariably playing the percentages and rarely taking these kind of outlandish risks. I had less of a game plan at Joke Thieves tonight than on previous occasions and it appeared to work better. I can’t wait to do it again and find out if this is an aberration or not.

My main regret is that I went for a “South Africans are racist angle” This in itself is racist. While this line of attack worked a treat, it seemed to initiate a racist motif that went through the rest of the evening.

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