Ealing Comedies and casual racism

A bit of a busy day yesterday. I had to train up my lieutenant to do the important bits of my job while I'm away. It's a weird one that training chaps up for that.I felt guilty about not wanting him to do it too well. Not that works like that, but you know what I mean.

After work I had to start the packing, and had a minor emergency. I'd asked for some hair (yes I know it sounds weird, but it's 'remains') from my dad to be posted up but it hadn't appeared. It turns out it was tucked into a suit that had arrived a week earlier and I hadn't seen it. As you can imagine losing remains isn't as funny as Ealing Comedies would have us believe and I got a bit upset. Thankfully I did find them and calmed down just enough for my one on one IAM (Institute of Advanced Motorists) lesson.

It went well, I've just completed a series of police biking lesson things and so my riding is coming on nicely. The chap was pleased with my progress, especially over the course of the lesson and he wants to book my test now. So that is nice, the only wobbly bit was when he drew a direct link with the dangers of the road with the increased number of foreign people in the country. I suppose, since I've been in London for so long, this sort of statement catches me off guard somewhat.

After my lesson a chap from work dropped over some slightly distasteful, yet extremely good luggage for me to take to America and I went to sleep.

Abe Lincoln and his amazing beard

I'm starting to get ready for my trip to London, a social calender is being put together, various meetings have been arranged and I've shaved off my silly Miami Vice beard.

While shaving I discovered that an Abe Lincoln beard rather suits me, so perhaps I should go and join a puritanical order in America for a bit. I don't think I'd get on with the religious aspect but the facial hair wouldn't be a problem.

Also I've just found out that my 'slot' for the stand-up is 25 minutes, that's erm about 20 minutes longer than any previous slots I've had so my options are:
a) Say everything five times.
b) Speak at 20% of normal speed.
c) Come up with some new stuff.

Currently A is winning, but B has potential too. The only way C is going to really work is if my journey up to London turns out to be hilarious in a 20 minute sort of way, not exactly likely but we shall see. Or, I could try and date four women in the next four days and try and squeeze five minutes of material out of each relationship. That might work...

Packing informal hats

I've got a gig in London this weekend and I completely forgot about it, yikes! Not only did I agree to do some stand-up I have a few fairly important parties that I really should attend. So perhaps a return to the capital is in order.

This means I'll have to shave my luxuriant beard which is shame; but probably for the greater good. And then think about what I'll take with me, I'll have a social engagement every night so I'll need a few looks but I really don't want to have to take a whole suitcase. Hmm, this will be tricky. Perhaps if I just take a couple of informal hats and only one or two changes of brogues.

Of course if I can co-ordinate my trip with some work stuff, well that would be excellent otherwise it will just be a jolly across the capital which will be fun but not a terribly good idea. Although, many a grand adventure has started off with something that could be described as 'not a terribly good idea'.

The meaning of yes

Yes is a strange word. I think of it as more absolute, but to some people it is relative. I say this because when I think about the last six months or so and how many times the possibility of life-changingly good news has being dangled in front of me and then snatched away.

Some of these events have got to now what I call the 'unofficial yes' or 'faux-affirmative' stage where someone who could make your life loads better has said 'yes' but what they really mean is 'no, but I won't let you know this for a couple of months - ho ho ho'.

As you can imagine this can make a chap a bit miffed, but I shall not give up!

No. I shall get a haircut. My flowing, Spinal Tap-like curls which are now below shoulder height are going to get a serious trim. I may even look like a grown-up soon, it is a mathematical possibility at least.

Oh and I've got another stand-up show tonight. it's in Islington and get this, it's completely sold out. Although this is probably due to the fact that Stephen Merchant, who is a proper famous is also on the bill rather than the lure of my freshly shorn locks.

The end?

I had a stand-up gig last night, probably my last one. I say this because I already have one high-risk, low reward career that doesn't pay as well as I'd like so I don't need another one.

The gig was excellent - probably my best - so it's good to stop on a high-note. Loads of friends turned up so it was cosy little gig and my new material went down well, especially the joke about shoes.

I was pretty nervous before I went on, it was a long wait and I didn't want to mess up in front of friends. The organisers had put me on last which technically makes me a headline act but it's more that 95% of the audience were my friends and the organisers didn't want them to leave after seeing me and leave an empty room for the other chaps.

It really was impressive how many people appeared, including some chums I've not seen for years. Bless. Some of the women there were probably in a pub for the first time in their lives, they are rather more the cocktail set.

In other news, I've had some news, and it's not good. Not terrible but not great either. Sort of neutral to good. Ho-hum. Well I suppose if the promise of a full time job hadn't been waved about I'd be doing a little dance now because of the commissions, but it seems the goal-posts have been moved again.

Summer Suits

The time for lightweight suits is on us. If I was more organised I'd put all the tweed into storage. It's time to break out the linen suits and tropical light-weights. Hurrah!

Yesterday I had a very productive drink with the Woo. She was providing some much needed moral support after I had to deal with a unpleasant situation and then together we worked on some comedy and feature ideas. It was a terribly productive pub meeting, it really was. We had ideas and everything.

Tonight is the launch party for a diamond encrusted shirt or some such nonsense. I mean really. Why? What could will that do apart from making it scratchy? Still a chap should investigate these things.

Lucy Porter, Dangerous perfumes and holidays

Last night I didn't go to the party as planned. Just as I was about to scamper out of the door I got a call from The Urban Woo asking if I'd like to do a gig tonight at her friend's comedy club.

I said yes, because I'm of the opinion that when opportunity knocks you don't just grab it with both hands but also ask it in for a nice cup of tea. So I quickly re-jiggled my evening plans and sprinted towards the tube. Just managing to arrive in time, a little warm under the collar but acceptable.

Lucy Porter, the proper professional comedian was there that night, as the first act which was one of the reasons I said yes. Just by appearing in the same show as her would mean I've shared the bill with someone who actually makes a living out of comedy and thus it will probably be the peak of my comedy career.

She was utterly lovely with amazing hair and we talked for a bit before the show started. My previous plans for the evening had affected my choice of fragrance so I was wearing the extremely effective scent that worked so well on my friends P.R. agent before. It was having it's now usual effect and even Lucy was caught up in the spell, not to the point of kissing of course, she is a professional but still.

I'm starting to get a bit worried by this scent, I'm not sure I'm ready for the level of responsibily of having it. It's only a matter of time before it gets a girl riled up too much and then what will I do? Luckily (depending on your view point of course) Lucy only asked to have a couple of sniffs and nothing more.

Sadly my scent was not designed to make people laugh, the audence were a strange crowd. While they would clap loudly at the end of the act the guffawing seemed to be only be happening when they couldn't stop themselves and the rest of the time they sat with their arms folded across their bodies looking at you like you were trying to give a presentation on why children should be eaten or something like that.

Lucy's act (I love how I'm pretending we are chums now), ahem Ms Porter's act amused the audence but not as much as it should. I mean really, it wasn't like it was a bad crowd but perhaps they just weren't in a very funny mood.

After Lucy ran off (I offered to walk her imaginary dog, which I think is a new low for me) there was a short break and then the rest of the acts went on. I had a couple of people appear before me both of whom have excellent sets and I've seen the very same routines get absolute peels of laughter on other normal nights but this time it felt like the only time anyone laughed was when they absolutely couldn't hold it in.

The time for me to amble on stage occured and I went through my usual routine which went down okay, and them gambled and did a whole extra section on writing letters to friends in prison. I'd only invented it on the tube over so it wasn't as polished as it should have been but it only got minimal laughs which I think is a shame as I think it could be good.

I must admit I'm not so sure about the comedy thing anymore, being a writer is hard enough and comedy is far more cut-throat and demanding. I'm of the opinion that your hobbies should balance out what is missing from your day to day life. So perhaps I need a hobby with a lot of responsibilty and a management structure.

Anyway on to the subject of leisure time. I appear to be collecting holidays. Especially ones that involve taking another person but sharing a bed with them. This presents a bit of an issue, while I have quite a few friends I know I'd have a great time on holiday I don't really want to be sharing a bed with them.

It was suggested to me last night that I just pull my socks up and jolly well find a girl to take with me. I suppose it could work, I've got the overnight stay in the hotel suite that I won so that could be like a test and then if that works I've got a week in a villa in Tuscany that I have to go on. Perhaps a personal advert would work?

'Wanted female chum to take on holidays, must have own luggage and not mind sharing a bed with a raffish type who thinks about shoes and waistcoats too much.'

If that doesn't work, I can always bring out the scent, I've probably got just enough of it to keep a girl intoxicated long enough for a flight to Italy.

The Ice Queen Melts

Well I did the gig. It was extremely scary. I've never seen a gig with such an angry crowd. Two acts couldn't actually tell any jokes because the crowd were talking back so much - one of them just did a dance while his time ticked away.

The MC had to tell the hecklers off, I mean a proper telling off. Why do people do that? I mean really? These weren't even funny hecklers, just sort of depressing.

Anyway. I did my set, the final act in fact. Which was a first, sort of accidentally becoming a headliner. It went okay, I'm probably being more critical on myself than I should be. I mean once ditched anything even remotely high-brow I got a very reasonable amount of laughs but it was a shame. There was no sparkle the sort you get - in my limited experience - when you are really getting on with the crowd.

It was recorded on a camera but I'm not sure I want a copy of that. Also doing the set were two very funny female comedians, one of whom I've met before. They are both extremely pretty, extremely funny and extremely nice and yet. Extremely single. It's baffling. The flatmate thinks this is due to most chaps being afraid of not being good enough for single girls. It sounds possible.

Oh and I spoke to The Ice Queen, she has a proper boyfriend. One who sent her flowers and took her out for a meal. I know the chap she used to think of him as just a friend but she has seen the light. Now she has a lovely boyfriend who thinks the world of her and that is very nice.

French toast and destiny

I spent a lot of the day moping about, I'm not entirely sure why. It should have been a good day, I paid in cheques (now only one thing remains unpaid) went for a walk and then did some work.

I think I was feeling a little bit blue because I piece I wrote for another newspaper that should have appeared today didn't. The editor says it is lovely and they are going to use it, just not this week. Ho-hum. As I was feeling a little strange, I made some French toast and went for a stroll.

Walks are good for improving one's mood, I think because the maximum speed of 'the blues' is quite low so just by walking moderately fast you can outpace it and then leave it behind.

I did feel much better after the bimble and I brought some more flour so I could make some bread. I introduced the flatmate to the wonders of home made bread last weekend and it was so good she was witness to the introduction of the bread dance. Which is a bit like the chocolate dance but with more pointing of toes.

I had no real plans this evening, but as always I thought I would trust in fate and let it decide what will happen. Fate has decided that I should do some more stand-up as someone I met briefly a few weeks ago will phone me out of the blue and offer me a comedy gig. So that is what I'm going to do tonight. So I've got to choose my waistcoat now, and practice my ding-dongs.

Debut

I spent most of the afternoon going through my routine again and again to make sure I didn't stumble over anything - and to make sure it would fit in the slot. Sadly this caused me to drop a whole section about dinosaurs but perhaps it will appear somewhere else. Because I had gone over the material again and again in my head it had ceased to be funny to me long, long ago. So I had no idea if anything I said would be generate a giggle.

Anyway I stumbled towards the bus, in a world of my own. Going through it all to see if I could improve anything. I was fine and this world of calm stayed with me until I saw the microphone. Then I started to get a little bit jumpy. The first half was rattled through and the second half was just about to begin and I had the thirst of the gods for some reason. Perhaps because I was opening the second act and the chap before me had just DIED. Really died, it was painful to watch.

Anyway, I strode on stage, did all the things you are supposed to do - move the stand away. Step forward to the audience, make sweeping eye contact and then launch into the set.

My material was mostly about strange things my ex-girlfriend has done and about being dumped. After my first quip they laughed and I was away. It was brilliant fun but sadly passed in a flash. The five minutes shot by, filled with a very respectable amount of laughter, I even managed to use the phrase 'feckless popinjay' and sadly my time was over.

It was exhilarating, I was zinging about for the rest of the evening. The other chaps (and ladies) who were performing that night were lovely and were very supportive, especially after the heard it was my first time.

So what now? I've got more shows already booked and I'm completely hooked on the buzz you get for stand-up. And how that I've done it, well everything else seems like a doddle.

Clock troubles

As the hour of my performance draws ever closer I'm practicing doing the set to a clock. You have five minutes to fill with laughter and no more. So this means I have to make sure I have around that mark. Too little and things will get a bit harsh, too much and I won't get to finish a joke.

I got out my trusty pocket watch to time me while I marched around the front room spouting on about various subjects occasionally glancing back to the watch. I seemed to be doing okay but as I drew near to the end of my material the hand hadn't moved at all, so I launched into a further diatribe about something.

I checked the clock again, still only the most tiny bit of movement so I dredged my mind back to the comedy course to see if I could remember some of the stuff I came up with on the day. After a bit of squeezing and a quick checking of notes it came back to me. After rattling through that as slowly as possible without sounding like I was having a stroke I checked the time again. It had hardly moved at all.

I was feeling rather frantic at this point thinking what the Dickens was I going to talk about now to fill up my seemingly unlimited five minute slot.

Then I realised, I had been looking at the hour hand instead of the minute one and had actually sprouted nonsense for just over half an hour.

I really am such a spaz sometimes.

Stand-up

Today is Terror's Eve. Not the sort of terror you get from Godzilla turning up or anything as wimpy as that. This is Terror's Eve because tomorrow I will be making my stand-up debut in a pub in London.

I've got some material, I'm not sure if it is five minutes worth. Or even if it is funny but I've said yes and various things that can't be undone have been done, like photographers booked.

So yes, if you'd like to see a chap stride about in a Velvet suit and make some slightly unusal remarks about dinosaurs then erm, comment with an email address and I'll send you the details.

Comedy clubs, dramatic rain and hair.

Last night I went to see someone else from the comedy course do her first stand up gig. She was awfully good, definitely one of the high-points of the night. The routine she did was one she had tested on the course so it was interesting to see how she had changed and tweaked it to make it better. She also looked even prettier than I remembered which was more then a little bit distracting but not to the detriment of her comedy.

The venue was tiny, only a little larger than an average sized front room and just over half the audience were people I had invited - if we hadn't gone on mass it really would have only been waiting performers and assorted hangers-on sat down watching the stand up.

I've got my own stand-up debut booked now. So I have the leg shaking terror of standing up in front of a room of strangers to try and entertain them to look forward to. Hurrah. The night was also interesting because it marked the sewing together of a few different groups of friends, they all got on splendidly and we drank a lot of booze while giggling at the acts.

As we left it was proper dramatic rain, the sort where a character in a film has a life changing experience. I suggested that we should dance about in it like the fellow in Singing in the rain but this was vetoed and we got a cab instead. It's probably for the best, while 2008 is going rather well I don't think it's quite to the level where a chap feels the need to croon in precipitation.

Since this is a week of new beginnings I'm v tempted to get a proper hair cut, while the slightly scruffy hair look has been my thing for a while perhaps it is time to tame it a little bit more aggressively so I look like a proper grown up. The hair growth started as rebellion against an old job and now that is ancient history maybe it is time to change it.

The nature of comedy

Last week all sorts of work things were going splendidly and then I got hopelessly side-tracked into a debate about the nature of comedy. It's completely stumped me to the point where I can't write anything.

The view presented to me was that all comedic characters are pathetic, that is what makes them funny.

Is this true? I can't decide, Blackadder wasn't pathetic (apart from the first series) so what made him funny?

Can you be funny with out being pathetic? What about witty quips?