04/11/07
You Could Go and Kill Yourself -
Categories: Every comic has embedded in their brain their worst deaths on stage. No matter how great your comedy career is, I don't think anyone ever forgets exactly how horrific dying on stage feels, and those bad times remain clear as a picture in your mind for ever more like some sort of shitty ghost. I find dying on stage actually scarier than most ghosts. Seeing the supernatural doesn't generally involve large members of the public thinking you are rubbish, boring and/or an idiot, unless you are David Icke. Poor David Icke.
My top five stage deaths (should that really be 'top'?) were added to last night by one of the worst deaths I have ever ever had. It also just so happened to be at London's, nay, the UK's biggest ever comedy club, which rubs salt into the wound like an angry shaman with lots of salt and someones big wound.
I have some sort of ancient Egyptian curse inflicted on me that means whenever a gig of any importance occurs I seem to have the amazing ability to screw it up (see previous blog '90 Seconds of Badness'. I would link it but I don't know how because I am a Luddite). This was proved on both Friday and Saturday when I has short spots booked in for the Glee and the Comedy Store, the two clubs that make me sweat with nerves similar to back when I took my driving test. These nerves change cause me to worry about my usually well received set beyond reason, which in turn gives me a nervous disposition on stage that the crowd can smell like dogs. I lose words, bumble through, lose all ability to quickly retort to hecklers and generally be a bit poo.
Friday wasn't too bad. I had 60-70% of the audience on my side, but lost it a bit when a big group of Welsh lads decided I was boring and shouted at me lots. I retorted a bit, but it was rubbish and so I soldiered on. I wasn't too sad about it, but I felt like I could have done better especially as it seemed to be a nice night and everyone else went down very well. I reflected on this far too much on the drive home and must have been some sort of beacon for other people feeling a bit sad about things as I carried two Samaritan type moments before I got home. The first was a Polish man in the service station who was telling me that back in Poland it was a four day weekend, but he was working here 14 days solid. I politely spoke to him for a bit while inside selfishly thought that he is clearly having a worse time than me which made me feel better. Thanks sad Polish man!
The second was when I was pulled over by a policeman on the motorway because a light was out on the back of the car. He was very nice, but I had to go sit in his car while he filled out several forms saying while he pulled me over, and I had to sign some stuff. What followed was a sad tirade of his moans about police paperwork, and how its not the job he wanted it to be. Apparently lots of his colleagues are leaving to serve justice abroad and he's feeling entirely unsatisfied with his job! I just really wanted to get home, so didn't engage him much and instead realised that a bad 10 was nothing as bad as his life, or in fact the entire English policing system.. I chose not to mention the whole Charles De Menzies thing and just sign things as quickly as possible before he started crying.
So I had just about managed to cheer myself up a bit when I did my first slot at the late show last night. It was a great line-up of acts last night and the crowd once again seemed lovely. However I had ummed and aaahd about my material so much that I walked onstage entirely unsure of what to say and lost the audience in seconds. I possibly could have got them back if I hadn't dealt with the hecklers so badly and generally made a mess of it all. People shouted at me, someone yawned and many others just left before I even got on stage to have a ciggy break. Needless to say, I walked off wanting to crawl into a corner and die. The other acts said some nice things about my gags, but the manager of the club basically told me I had no funny material, and what I did have was too wordy which understandably didn't make me feel a whole lot better. But in a way he was right, because I do use lots of words. Joking aside, I do realise that perhaps my material isn't 100% right for the late Saturday night crowd and that compared to many of the Store's rota I haven't been going all that long. Perhaps I should still be leaving these places alone until I have at least the self-confidence to do them. I did also think however that it is entirely sod's law that the manager wasn't there when I stormed an early show in January this year. Yes that show, the one where the DVD of the night appears to have been lost as part of a larger rather cruel joke on my life.
The best advice given to me was from John Fothergill last night, who told me of a time he had died at Up The Creek years ago. Upon apologising to the manager, she had simply said to him 'Well, you could go and kill yourself'. It does kind of put the whole thing into perspective when you realise it is just 10 minutes of your life, and you could actually die which on the whole would be much worse, although you wouldn't remember it, and people might actually feel sympathy for you. In some ways it could be better. It was damn good advice though and I left with that in mind, only to get stuck in traffic all the way home, then step out of the car into dog poo right outside my flat. It felt as though someone was raining on my soul.
Today has been spent eating vast amounts of food and hoping that my luck improves during this week's long week of gigs and miscellaneous stuff. Although as I type I'm already being beaten by over 100 points on Scrabbulous. I might just stay in bed.
Final Note: If you enjoy reading about people's deaths, I highly recommend searching high and low for a copy of 'Ha Bloody Ha' by William Cook. Loads of now very famous comics are interviewed about their first, worst and weirdest gigs and its great to read. Sadly its now out of print, while at the same time thousands of copies of Katie Price's autobiography are being printed. The world is a bad place.
Comments:
semi-special needs people. The gig was headlined by Mr Methane and i had to do a big intro for him while Rule Britannia played!
I've never felt more like a performing monkey!
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05/11/07 @ 12:02 
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