Tonight's show flew from the very start. I was obviously more confident with the script and this allowed me to mess around and try out different stuff. Also it was nearly full so the atmosphere was better and I forgot all about my sore throat and snotty nose and ripped into it. I felt in control, I felt I had everyone coming along with me and I felt like a proper comedian. I know that might sound like a weird thing to say, given that I have been a comedian for seventeen years, but I've always has issues with stand up and it's hard to believe I am really doing this.
When it goes well there is very little which can top this experience. This show has been similar to the Hercules one in that I was trying to squeeze a lot of material into the hour in Edinburgh and so wasn't able to slow down or go off script too much, but now that the show is in two halves of about 65 and 40 minutes there is time for me to explore everything at my leisure and allow the more complicated ideas to sink in.
It was very good for me and I came off stage remembering that I am actually quite good at this and that there are people out there who appreciate my slightly strange humour. It's easy to lose sight of these things when you are tired or rushed or when a critic or a fan has written something harsh about you. These things only sting for a while and sometimes in the case of something like the Telegraph award ultimately become a badge of honour (literally in fact as I am wearing a badge made by a friend which says "Daily Telegraph Worst Comedy Experience 2005" on it - it's a nice little totem to have), but if I didn't wake up every now and again thinking, "Actually maybe I am not at all funny and I have wasted my life" then I would be more worried. Self-doubt is an essential part of the experience and when you're trying to do something interesting the doubt and disdain of others is also an inevitable and required consequence. Obviously it's nicer to be performing to a room full of people who get where you're coming from.
Weirdly though, like Hercules, I think the show really coming into its own outside of the environs of the Fringe means that it is never likely to amount to anything more. But I sort of like this. I think the Hercules show turned out to be a very sweet and involving tale of break-down and recupperation, but it didn't make the splash at the Fringe (where it was only a shadow of what it would become) and so there was no buzz around it. But in a way that made it more special for the people who came. They discovered this strange show about obsession and loss and had a good time and then it was over, just to become a memory.
Similarly as I walked into the dingy, messy backstage area at the BAC I thought that making those people laugh for 40 minutes with a routine about buying yoghurt meant more to me that being judged the best comedy experience of the year by the Daily Telegraph. The fact it was ephemeral kind of makes it better and even if no-one ever notices or acknowledges that I am good at my job, then having the memory of nights like this is enough. This is what the job is about and nothing else matters.
OK, I know all this sounds a bit wanky and I know that there is a part of me that would love to get more recognition for what I am doing, but I suppose the point is that it's about understanding priorities. At the very basic level my job is about going into a room of people and making them laugh and maybe making them think. If you can do that that's all that really matters. If you can do it regularly enough then maybe the other stuff follows, but I know that it doesn't always work like that.
Ah well I am blathering. The comedian
Janey Godley came to the show tonight and we chatted afterwards in the bar. She was telling me about a recent event she'd been to to publicise her book to the trade. All the authors had to get up and talk to the assembled book sellers for five minutes. She was gagging to get up there and be funny, whilst some more established comedy names were complaining that they hadn't done stand up for years and (as she said) kept on going on about the massive houses they had and who had owned them before. She was saying "If you don't want to go out there, give me your five minutes. I'll do as long as I can" but they told her it didn't work that way. But I think it's an interesting illustration of the way comics can get distracted and that the live work should always be the important thing.
Oh look I haven't really captured this, but I've spent an hour writing this already and I need to do some work. Forgive me my self-indulgence. It was just a great gig and made me think about a few things. Hopefully there will be a tour of this show some time in the spring so I hope you will catch it.
