17/04/07
Getting fighty -
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After reading the article about Jim Jeffries getting punched by an audience member at the Manchester Comedy Store, I think I have come to the conclusion that all of us comedians should get smacked once in a while. It's always good to feel like you are pushing buttons that certain people would rather not have pushed.
I'm not talking about challenging people's perceptions or preconceptions about difficult issues, that would be the easy/arty/wanky way of discussing it, I actually mean literally just for the sake of it. Just for a bit of demonic mischief. There is nothing better than being physically attacked to remind you that you are alive (unless the attack kills you I suppose, then it would be more of a means to and end).
And if it is going to happen, then where better than onstage in front of loads of other people? It's at the very least preferable to getting jumped on in a deserted street in the middle of the night.
I've noticed recently that there is an increase in 'threatening' behaviour, and I realise that this may seem rich coming from a man who squared up to somebody who was physically knocking people out of the way on the tube the other week, but that is exactly what I mean. That bloke was using his size and strength to intimidate people to the point of physical contact, and all just because they were walking up the wrong side of the stairs, but as soon as somebody actually stood up to them, he backed down.
At Fopp last week, Russell Kane was becoming increasingly concerned onstage with a man at the front who was being 'threatening', supposedly as a 'joke' to fluster Russell (which is pretty easy with one as neurotic as Mr Kane). He retained his comedic composure but it was quite clear to anyone that knows the man that his fragile nerves were flipping inside. It's all well and good getting out of these situations with words, and most admirable too, but the problem is that often the protagonist in these cases will only actually understand every fifth word being spoken to them, and anything above three syllables is in danger of winding them up even further, such is the nature of their stock.
I've had a few onstage attacks. In perspective to the amount of gigs I have actually done the percentage is paltry, but they were all exciting in their own way, and I've never been one to shy away from pushing confrontations. Not in a brave way and not quite in an 'encouraging it' way, but I have never caved in when threatened, I've always been one for standing up to the people who talk with their fists.
My Jedi reflexes have got me out of them every time. I don't have many skills, and it is no doubt as a result of many wasted hours on the Playstation, but my reflexes are exceptionally fast, I rarely don't see something coming. Just ask Bethany Black who fell at my feet whilst playing "Buzz" on the PS2 the other week. I was once driving along Blackpool front and said to the passenger in my car that the wheel of the car in front was about to fall off, about three seconds before it actually did, and it is rare should I drop something I am holding that I won't have caught it before it hits the ground.
At a gig in Watford that I used to run many many years ago a man got up very quickly and threw a punch at me - his fist only connecting with the wall behind me as I dropped fast out of it's trajectory before wrapping my arms around his waist and flinging him away. At a gig in Leeds, again many years ago, a disgruntled heckler ran at me after the show as I was leaving the building and swung a punch. Again I ducked it successfully, forgetting that my girlfriend was walking behind me, and her reactions were not as quick as mine. I would of course rather have taken the punch than have her receive it, but the thing about my fast reactions is, they are completely involuntary. I've dodged the bullet before I even realise a shot was fired. This isn't me showing off - the fact of the matter is, it's essentially an accident.
Which leads us nicely onto the best story I have of me being attacked onstage.
And this, I may tell you, is the coolest fucking thing I have ever done, but - I am big enough to tell you - it was a complete accident.
I started my comedy career by running a gig in North Finchley at the Torrington Arms. It was a really cool pub, and has sadly since been converted into a Starbucks. The function room out the back where the gig took place is now an Indian restauraunt, but back when I was running the gig it was the proper place to be for entertainment in Finchley. There was the Big And Daft Comedy Nite on the Saturday (this is in the pre-team days, when B.A.D was just the company name I used) and Los Pacaminos would play the Sunday nights (which was, and perhaps still is, the secret name of Paul Young and his band).
I would book the gig, and compere it. I hold my hands up that I had literally no idea what a compere was at that stage, and thought I could just go on and wing it as I often still do with compering now, but back then I properly didn't have the comedic tools at my disposal to get away with it. What I was good at however, was dealing with hecklers.
The night in question was the first ever gig, and so by default, my first ever gig proper. It was a pretty rowdy gig, mostly good natured as the North Finchley community liked to join in - particularly because most of them knew me by nature of the fact that I was working behind the bar at the Tally Ho pub down the road.
One gentleman at the back of the audience that evening however, was not so good natured. He'd never been in the Tally Ho. He didn't like me. Especially when my putdowns to his heckling got more and more personal. The more I got the better of him, the nastier and more threatening his shouting became.
I have since learned that the time to worry about vicious hecklers is when they go quiet.
At the time I took the period of grace as a relief, and went about my compering duties, chatting far more pleasantly to some folk down the front and setting up the mic stand to bring on the first act.
Events went into slow-motion. This is how I know that my reflexes are not a conscious skill, my brain slowed down time without being asked before I even knew there was a problem.
I noticed a glisten through the stage lights, and glanced up to get dreaded confirmation of what I already feared.
A pint glass. On it's way to my head.
My first fucking gig this was don't forget - glassed at my first fucking gig.
Without being asked, my hand shot up to deflect it and I turned my head away from the missile. Coolest thing I ever did - but an accident. As my hand went up to knock the pint glass out of the way...
I caught it.
It landed perfectly in my palm.
You could have heard a fucking pin drop in that room, which was just as alien a feeling as having a pint pot thrown at you in that particular function room. You'd think I would perhaps be exhilerated, or celebrate my own brilliance, but I was just confused. I didn't really know how I had done it, and I certainly didn't know what I was meant to do next. I looked down at the glass in my (shaking) hand, placed it slowly on the table to the side of me and said "Right ladies and gentleman, it's time for your first act of the evening..." and that was the moment the silence broke. The room erupted like I am yet to see a room erupt again, some big blokes at the back bundled the thrower out of the doors and apparently he didn't fare very well outside (none of this pussy pressing charges nonsense), and I was an accidental hero for the remainder of the evening.
So, I can be cool sometimes. And rather than continue to refer to it as accidental cool, I think I may start labelling it as effortless cool.
And to all of you who have read this entry and taken it as a challenge...bring it on. I'll get a front page on Chortle if it kills me.
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· http://www.killforaseat.com Silky
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