Arse. Shitty hairy arse.

SO wandering round in my stage boots all day my feet hurt I walk in to the pleasance dome and chat with Paul and Matilda and Nick before I go off to do the gig. Every ticket's sold out so I've got none of my friends coming to see me, but it'll be fine. Aside from the tepid reaction I got at Spank! I'm on decent form at the moment. I get two bottles of water and drop a couple of Berocca into one of them, 50 minutes of energy and focus. Back stage with the other acts I'm sat waiting to go on, I'm third in the first section. I'd rather have been on later in the bill. First in the final section would have been best, but never mind, I'm a fantastic comic and I can do this.

Jason Manford comperes and is as good as he always is, Dave goes on first and I knock back the last of the Berocca enriched water and feel it kick in in a way that only that dosage of vitamins or a very weak ecstasy tablet can. Dave's off, the next act's on, I finish my pre-gig ritual, sniff and cross myself, kiss the rosary that Sarah gave me and rub the lucky pendant I keep in my pocket. The cognitive behavioural therapy technique of repeating the right positive affirmations in the right order is done and I'm ready to go on stage a wave of calm runs over my body. I'm ready. My name's called and I step out into the light and up onto the stage.

It's weird, the audience are about 10 years younger than I expected them to be, they all look student age, almost all of them are there to support a friend and it becomes clear very quickly that I'm not their friend, nor would they want me to be, I am exactly as Tim Minchin described me after Spank "just a nerdy lesbian, but you can't let them know that." Technically I hit the point with all the material I'm doing, I try to leave longer pauses than I did at spank, but even that doesn't seem to help, I'm not dying, I'm getting a much worse reaction than that, general indifference, a perfectly average comedian, not piss your pants funny but not boo her off bad. in that moment I'd take either over being average.

I get a sharp intake of breath from the crowd as I state "I don't believe in Anne Frank" as set up to a joke that has in recent weeks never got anything less than a round of applause, but it's a student audience, the worst kind of narrow life experience, we don't want to laugh at that as we've an image to maintain, middle class, middle of the road, student audience. There's no understanding of the duality of meaning, that I don't actually agree with what I'm saying, they take it at face value and rather than getting the usual response it dies on the vine. as I move through the rest of the material it gets the same stilted response. Nothing I can do seems to get them, I move into the final section and go to do my closer, a Stephen Hawking impersonation with the aid of a rampant rabbit vibrator. I don't care who you are, my grandmother, a nun, a school teacher, whoever you are that's funny. As I ask if they want to hear it they give that intake of breath gasp of horror sound and again it dies on its hoop.

I leave the stage angry with myself for not getting a better response, then the adrenaline fades, leaving in its wake the horrible feeling of desperation. I can't be there anymore. last time I got through to the final of a competition, some of you might have read in the earlier blog, I got on stage, did a similar thing and then left the stage pissed off at myself, left the venue immediately then got in my car and cried and drove all the way to Manchester from Leicester bawling my eyes out. Later on, maybe a month later I found out that I'd actually come third in that competition.

SO I headed off to Brookes bar where David Williams was talking to Marissa, I went over to talk to them and told them what had happened David said it was a bad week all round what with Anthony H Wilson dying as well.

Fuck.

Tony Wilson was a hero of mine, growing up in a shitty little village outside a shitty little town in the Pennines with Manchester to dream of and not fitting in, it seemed anywhere, music was a big part of my life, and my sister's life, she was of the right age at the right time to be part of the whole Madchester scene, and as an 8 year-old borrowing her records, listening to things like The Happy Monday's and Joy Division as well as a whole host of other Manchester music, it was my first glimpse into a bigger darker world that lay at the other end of the M61. A world where you could go and create something, be some one. For me it was like New York must have been for Andy Warhol. for me at that age Tony Wilson was my Andy Warhol, it was strange, the Hacienda was the most famous club in the world at that point, and to think that the guy who owned that, and Factory records who had some of the coolest bands in the world on it was the guy off the news, the guy who hosted Remote control on Channel 4. the guy who was responsible for people like Steve Coogan, John Thompson and Caroline Aherne getting their first breaks on TV (which for me was just as big a thing as the bands his record label produced and promoted) In my head there was no separation between comedians and rock stars, and that was in part down to Tony.

As I grew up I read stuff he wrote and continued to keep an eye on what he was doing, Manchester's now where I call home (even though for another 325 days I'm living in Crewe) the can do spirit, the let's say "fuck the rest of the world and do something different, because we're from Manchester and that's how we do things" ideals that he always had the rhetoric of really touched me and influenced a lot of the stuff that I do, when I first set up a comedy club (because I'd done four gigs as an MC at a rock club and wanted to perform Stand-up but didn't know where there were any clubs I could perform at, so I set up my own) it was under the influence of Tony Wilson's book 24 hour party people (the film of which is still one of my favourite films.) And along the way it's always been there. Just at the end of last year when I had to write a 4,000 word essay for my degree I chose to compare Tony Wilson to Beaudillaire's Flâneur as described in Walter Benjamin's arcades project. (don't know how well I did, I never check my marks, I'm hoping to get to the end of this whole degree and only find out what my final mark is when they give me my degree at the end.

I saw Tony and his wife out with their big barking Dog at Eden on Canal street last year.

Fuck.

So the night was made even worse. I slunk off back to the back stage area of the gig, hearing the laughter from the audience within. Jason and Kitty Flanagan were talking off to one side and the gig was drawing to the close. I didn't want to be there, but leaving wasn't really an option. It makes you look a right tool, as if you've thrown your toys out of your pram. SO I stuck around to hear the results. Then as soon as that happened with a heavy heart I headed off to the Gilded Balloon and the library Bar, Nick was smiling and saying "Well?" I told him and he said, aw fuck it, I never placed in my So you think you're funny final!" at which point someone walked over to him and congratulated him on another 5 star review for his show.

I was still feeling down, my head was saying to me "You can just have one pint of Guinness, you'll be fine with that, just the one." and I was saying "I just feel after that, like I did my best technically and still got fuck all, I feel like no matter how hard I try I'm never going to be more than an average comedian. It makes me feel like giving up and moving into comedy management." I briefly spoke to Kelly from Just for Laughs and she cheered me up too telling me that at least I got through to the final, and that she was coming to see me at Phatcaves on Thursday. It was when I nearly had to be introduced to someone who was on the judging panel of the competition who didn't seem to recognise me even though they'd seen me less than two hours earlier performing for them that I realised I needed to go. Now.

I phoned Eddie Hoo back at the flat to see if there was anyone in yet, he said that they'd all gone to bed and if I was on my way back over he'd let me in.

I couldn't stand it being here, so I headed back in the rain, dejected, tired, desperate for a drink and unsure of my future, I just wanted to pack up my stuff and head back home, to my sister, to Dug and Dolan, to Jonathan, to Bex and Lorna, to Alex and Emma, to my friends, my support network, the people who know me well enough to talk about this stuff. On the way I decided that there was no reason to feel like this again, no need to do competitions, my style doesn't suit it. but when I got back I chatted to Eddie and we agreed on a number of things.

I headed off to bed and got to sleep earlier than I have for the whole festival.

This morning I deleted enough texts from my phone to find out who'd been in touch. and started text conversations, over the course of this I realised my attitude had changed. I realised something very important about myself.

I'd spent the last few days worrying myself unnecessarily over a competition and the result of this was that rather than doing what I want to do on stage I was doing what I thought other people would want me to do, what I thought other people would find accessable and acceptable, as opposed to the stuff I've been writing recently which I think is some of my best stuff. After the incident at the Comedy store earlier in the year I'm no longer afraid of dying, I can die on stage for a full 20 minutes and still enjoy it, my fear's gone in that respect, so it's time to find it elsewhere.

So that's it. 3 years to the day after I first started comedy as a way of life I've reached an epiphany. (Bethany epiphany, I'd never noticed that rhyme until Morag pointed it out to me the other day) So from tonight, fuck what I think an audience will want to hear, I need to be truer to myself, which is when I'm at my funniest.

Also fuck competitions. They're pointless, they do no one any good, especially those who win them. They're not a short cut, the only short cut is hard work and consistency.

and one leads to the other and I'm prepared to work hard.

Today I saw Jason Cook's show and it made me cry at the end, it's the best show at the festival in my opinion, go and see it, Jason has been good to me over the last few years and watching his show after realising this made me sure of my decision. As I stepped out of the Stand 2 and the sun started to dry the tears away leaving a salty residue on my cheeks my phone rang, it was a close friend with some very good news of a personal nature, I was smiling and so happy, a text had also arrived from Bex, saying just the right things I wanted to hear, as I headed up the road to watch Pappy's Fun Club I knew everything was going to be just perfect.

Until tomorrow,

I Love you all

BB xXx

2 comments • Trackback (0)

Comments:

Comment from: charlie [Visitor]

Hi Bethany
I think you're fucking brilliant. I saw you at the Chortle Awards and i, personally, think you stormed it. Even though the winner was pretty good, I dont think he deserved to win. I dont think the material was as personal as yours... which I may say was very very funny... and he wasnt as attractive as you ...


Charlie

Permalink 19/08/07 @ 01:43

Comment from: Bethany Black [Member]

Thank you very much for that, I've just got back from a horrible gig and that put a smile on my face :D

Permalink 01/09/07 @ 01:12

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