20/06/07
The last week -
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Right, let’s make an effort to feign some sort of commitment to this…
As I said in the last post, most of the time I would spend writing these has been utilised in editing the libel out of the podcast, so blog posts shall remain thin on the ground until the present series of The Ray Peacock Podcast is completed or banned.
Incidentally, episode 2 is up now, you can find it HERE, and the series is also available via iTunes HERE, which means it is legitimate art and a real proper thing, rather than an occasionally lacking in technical quality recording of two blokes arguing. It would be nice if you found the time to have a listen to it.
So, to the gigs – despite evidence to the contrary on the Chortle gigs listings, I have actually been working most nights.
After doing the audience warm up again for Deal or no deal on Tuesday (during which I made history by being the first person to breakdance on the set to a standing ovation from the studio audience, badly cutting my knee in the process the running right across the east and west wing of contestants high-fiving them all, so fast that my trousers fell down) I went on to do a run of gigs in South Wales.
Three gigs, three belters – the first one was a naughty night were all acts misbehaved on stage with material that I choose not to repeat here, and I closed the show by playing Silky’s guitar and singing my melancholic indie version of “Simon Smith and the amazing dancing bear” for the first time in six months. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
The second night I battled the audience for forty minutes (in a friendly yet cut-throat way) and was then joined onstage by Silky to close the show with (fuck knows why) “I wanna be like you” from The Jungle Book.
Third night I did a proper gig. A real life one with material and everything. That worked too.
All three shows were lovely, and Silky said to me on the second night that the shows had reminded him why he started doing comedy in the first place, which was a lovely thing to say and totally mutual. Those nights where unpredictability is the key to the magic are always a great treasure to behold, and the reason why live entertainment will always stand head and shoulders above recorded media. You may have noticed I am quite the fan or creation over rehearsal.
Last Friday had been playing on my mind for the whole week before it, as I was doing the audience warm up “French & Saunders” at TV Centre.
As you may have gleaned from my gushing blog around Christmas time last year about Rik Mayall, I was greatly influenced by (and a massive genuine fan of) the members of The Comic Strip in the eighties. There was a strange feeling of full circle when I arrived to essentially compere F&S on Friday evening, but I was determined to hold it together and not let any fanboy aspects get the better of me.
Determination is not always enough though - and that didn’t last too long.
After my first section on, with all going great with the fantastic studio audience, I just about managed to hold my cool together when introduced to ‘the girls’, and there was a genuine relief when I looked up at the ‘guests’ section of the studio audience and saw no signs of their other halves - that would have made my nerves unmanageable.
The show was a treat, and I found myself laughing out loud in between the sections where I had to go on to fill gaps in filming. Don’t get me wrong – I always laugh out loud at these recordings, as the warm-up you have to – can’t expect the audience to be laughing if you’re not – but it is almost always forced for that very reason. However, there was no need for faking on Friday – great and very funny show.
Given what happened next, the relief I felt at doing well with the audience was incredible. During a bit where I was setting up three lads with the three girls sat in front of them, I heard a massive booming laugh right at the very back of the studio, looked up, and caught sight of Lenny Henry creased up with laughter, with Adrian Edmondson sat beside him in a similar state. They weren't sat in the middle in the guests section - they were sat on the back row.
Now, you’ve got to understand, this really could have seen me off – I was doing a gig for Lenny Henry and Ade Edmondson. Ade Edmondson out of The Young Ones, and Bottom, and all those other shows that shaped and influenced me in my teens, whilst behind me where Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders. To all those people that have bought into the idea that I don’t ‘try’ when I do gigs – you can fuck right off – I’ve never worked so hard to maintain my composure in my entire life. You’ve also no idea how much of a confidence boost it is to see these people laughing at what you are creating.
It’s so common to notice stoney-faced club comedians in a room when you are performing, as though they are focussing all their efforts into showing zero appreciation for your ability or mirth-making, and when this isn’t the case one notices. When the comedians in the audience are exceptionally successful heroes of yours, you notice like a motherfucker.
As I carried on the warm up, I cast glances their way. The laughter continued.
The show ended and I felt a weight of pressure lifted, even allowing myself to feel just a smidge of pride in myself for holding my own under such esteemed scrutiny, and I went on to the green room for the after show party feeling as though I had run a marathon, exhausted but with a feeling of satisfaction.
Modesty and lack of self-confidence would prevent me from telling all my tales from the green room, but to have these people approach me and genuinely sing my praises had a very odd effect on me, if I’d had a dictaphone with me I could have sorted myself out with a shitload of high profile quotations for my posters, and Lenny Henry did his bit for the ongoing saga of my stage name by walking around informing everbody that “it isn’t Ian – it’s Ray Peacock!”, Ade Edmondson indulged me in a conversation about The Young Ones, whilst all the time bringing the conversation back to how much he had enjoyed me, and Jennifer Saunders said some of the kindest things I have ever had said to or about me. A mental evening.
Most surreal moment of the evening came when I was leaving TV centre and I heard a booming voice shouting at me.
“Ian? Ian?”
I turned and saw Lenny Henry bounding towards me.
“Is Dawn still downstairs?”
Maybe you had to be there, but fuck that was weird.
Comedians will often analyse to themselves why they do comedy - what the endgame or ambition is. Driving back on Friday evening I came to the conclusion that acceptance and approval from those souls who tred the path in front of you, and who influenced and shaped your love of comedy must be one of the milestones of attainment. I very strongly felt as though I had passed a checkpoint of subconscious ambition.
And that’s me - I’ll speak to you soon.
Thanks to everyone who has sent me kind messages about the podcast. If you haven’t listened to it yet then please do should you get the chance, and it's best to subscribe rather than rely on me to remind you week by week. As I said, it is replacing this blog really for the time being. If you've scrolled down too far to be bothered scrolling back up, then here are the links again:
The Ray Peacock Podcast on Chortle
The Ray Peacock Podcast on iTunes
Comments:
· http://myspace.com/anthologypage I turned and saw Lenny Henry bounding towards me.
“Is Dawn still downstairs?”
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i LOVE this. (boy, do i get your feeling about it.)
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20/06/07 @ 17:14 ~Good luck becoming the most popular podcast that includes the word cunt, I think that would be an achievement.
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24/06/07 @ 05:25 
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