18/07/07
More fighting, more podcasts -
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I’ve been thinking about Edinburgh, which could be forgiven from a comedian at this time of year but for the fact that this here comedian isn’t actually going to Edinburgh for so much as five minutes of this years Fringe.
Making the decision not to go was actually relatively simple, in fact the decision pretty much made itself for me, and whilst I shall no doubt miss the tinsel this year, I certainly won’t miss the tree.
But I have found myself pondering the subject as I have watched my contemporaries thrash about within their shows, applying far more importance to comedy than should ever really be given (and I’m not sneering – I have been as guilty of that as any), and I really wish that before last years fringe I could have seen myself now. If you paid me all the money in the world I couldn’t give you the running order of topics from my 2006 show. Couldn’t get up on a stage and do it. The importance of them is so fleeting. It would have probably put it into perspective for me.
I got a call from my management the other day, asking me if I was interested in doing The Big Chill festival in August.
I very nearly hung up.
The last time I did The Big Chill festival I took to the stage at 3am, looking out over a haze of pot smoke, whilst four hundred people scowled at the fact I had awoken them. It was the most painful start to a gig I think I have ever experienced, made worse by token of the fact that for some godforsaken reason I had been booked to compere AND headline. By 5.45am I had three stoners racing each other around the inside of the marquee as a desperate last throw of the dice and by 6am I had managed to get back to my car in the morning sunlight. I seem to recall I was running.
Hearing the words Big Chill had sent just that through me, and I was halfway through rejecting it when I realised that I wasn’t being asked to do a comedy gig. My manager was speaking about authors doing readings. Now the last time I looked there had been no follow on letters declaring a terrible admin error amongst the pile of rejection slips that my first novel inspired from publishers, so I was unsure as to what exactly I was meant to be reading from whilst remaining vaguely uncomfortable at the fact that I was being passed of as an author, but all was to be revealed. At this year’s Big Chill festival, I have been asked to read from this.
This blog.
How fucking weird is that?
I’m dreading it and looking forward to it all at the same time – I have literally no idea how to do it, or why anybody will be in the slightest bit interested, but it does mean I shall be present at one festival come August – if only for an hour or so.
Gigs have been chugging along nicely. I had to go to Cardiff last week as part of the Welsh comedy festival, and took along my fellow speakers from The Ray Peacock Podcast, Little Raji James Who Used To Be On Eastenders But Ruined It and Ed “The Body” Gamble as emotional support. They would turn out to be physical support before the night was out, as I presently seem to be attracting violence almost as much as my office is attracting moths (I mean, seriously, the moths thing is getting fucking ridiculous in here – how do you get rid of moths? I suppose I could try working in the dark…).
So, as I was saying, after the gig a little man – and he was little, proper little and all weasely – confronted me. Now the gig had been okay, it had been a laugh and I had fucked about with the audience at the end as it had been a long night and headliner or not, I wasn’t going to inflict material on a flagging group. During this fucking about, I had fed crisps to this little weasel man, as he was sat behind a metal partition bit that made him look like he was in a petting zoo. He had appeared to play along at the time.
After I’d got Raji up on stage to humiliate him and fought a gentleman in the audience in a lightsaber battle (he had an umbrella and I think he genuinely thought he was going to win, but in order to win you really would have to keep your eyes on me at all times as I may appear to be chatting with the audience again and you may drop your defences momentarily and then suddenly realise I have the blade of the lightsaber at your throat in one swift movement declaring “that would have killed you – I win”) I wandered offstage and rejoined the other comics. The little weasel man came over.
At first, I genuinely thought he was joking. Then he pushed his forehead against mine and started to push me with it.
“Do you know who I am?” he drawled in a Glaswegian accent.
I admitted that I didn’t and asked him to put down his pint glass.
“You’ve got no idea who I am have you?”
I resisted the urge to churn out the old joke of shouting “there’s a bloke here doesn’t know who he is” in favour of further trying to disarm the pint glass.
“Taking the piss out of me will be the last thing you will do”.
Well that wasn’t true because two hours later I was driving down the M4 miming to “Deadringer for love” in Raji’s car whilst Ed screamed laughing and I flashed all of the interior lights to “make it like a proper concert”, but you get the idea.
It all spilled outside, and after the initial shock, I got a bit fighty with this scrawny little cunt. No blows were traded, but I firmly rejected his offer to shake my hand and that seemed to make things worse. Not going to pander to the sort of thug who believes they can act however threateningly and aggressively as they wish as long as they offer a handshake at the end of it.
All I’d done was feed him fucking crisps!
I might have called him a gypsy as well, but other than that…
Incidentally, I never did find out who he was.
To Ed’s credit, he was in there like a shot backing me up. Raji just took an unusual interest in a flyer for a Take That musical and missed the whole thing apparently. In fairness, I suppose his face is his fortune…
I left Wales seething, but as I mentioned earlier, my annoyance didn’t last too long. The road trip itself was possibly the most I have ever laughed in my life, certainly top five (and the other four would be times recording the podcast with the same company). A few folk from the gig emailed me and expressed the wish that I do not let this put me off coming back to Wales. Naturally it wouldn’t, and indeed I am doing the Theatre Clwyyd this Thursday coming with Silky. Me and Ed are both travelling over there.
Raji isn’t invited because he is no good in a fight.
And that’s me.
I shall leave you as usual with podcast details – Episode Six is up now, and I really can’t even begin to tell you how much fun we are having making these. If you listen to them it is probably pretty clear, and despite their juvenility at times, I am really really proud of them. Genuine thanks to everyone who has taken the time to listen to them.
You know the drill – this is where it’s at (Warning: This episode may contain nudity…well it does, there’s no ‘may’ about it):
CLICK THIS TO LISTEN TO EPISODE SIX
RIGHT CLICK THIS AND 'SAVE TARGET AS' TO DOWNLOAD EPISODE SIX
It’s on swanky iTunes as well:
The Ray Peacock Podcast on iTunes
You may as well…it’s free.
I know I’m not around so much these days but I do think of you all the time xx
Comments:
I couldn't be bothered to listen to all of episode 7, he was bugging me so badly.
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