19/12/07
Pre Christmas Turkey and other Warblings. -
Categories: Firstly, an apology as this will be yet again another very long blog. Various interesting things that I feel should be brought to your attention, but rather than write about then in palatable exciting portions as they happened, I thought it much better to bombard you all with an overdrawn essay.
I have lied to you slightly. When I say 'various interesting things', I mean only three 'things'. The first two of these I will lightly skim over for your benefit. These shall preside under the intelligent heading 'Christmas Audiences are Sh*t'.
Section 1: Christmas Audiences are Sh*t
Last week we had the final Fat Tuesday of the season. I had been looking forward to this show as the entire season so far had been great line-up and audience wise, will 5 out of 6 being sell-outs. There is little else you could ask for. So when the tickets for the last show started selling very well I was pleased. Yes, I overlooked the fact that 22 of the tickets were going to the Christmas works-do party of a bunch of human rights workers. On first reading and from previous experience of human rights workers, I thought I rightly assumed that they would be a great bunch of down-to-earth types, who righteously save impoverished people and will be well behaved while enjoying a good laugh. Sadly I was only half right with this judgement. Yes they do save peoples lives, however, as a audience they are terrible. Promising a group of 22 and agreeing to arrive early to sort out seating, only 16 appeared 15 minutes into what should have been the start of the show. After delaying the evening they proceeded to talk through the acts, getting up to offer each other drinks and subsequently ruining punch lines and atmosphere. Lacking bouncers in our venue, I dealt with it as the MC, and then each of the acts also dealt with them during their sets. In the interval I asked them to stop it or leave resulting in us losing half of our audience. This decidedly shitty atmosphere was worsened by a chap called Mohammad taking offence at one of the acts jokes about the 'Mohammad' teddy bear, resulting in a religious debate during the first 30 minutes of the show. I'm sure you can imagine that warmed the crowd up to no end. Hooray for touchy religions, I don't think.
After the interval, it did get better with most of the talkers having left and Paul Tonkinson being very very good. Ultimately though, despite the fact that it was a top line-up, all seats sold so extra Xmas money for me, it was still a sad way to end a great season. A good example of a time when the audience ruin the gig, not the comic.
Not being at a high enough comedic level to do all the big Christmas shows, I usually only hear about the state of audiences in December, never really witnessing the horror that is created by winter crowds. Sadly it happened twice last week, as the Friday following Fat Tuesday I did a gig in Kingston with football thugs in the front row. This time my 25 minute set became a 15 minute set as I was told that its 'lucky you ain't a gooner 'cos I would've kicked your head in if you were'. As you might guess, this is the sort of heckle where a clever put down would mostly only confuse them and lead to unnecessary violence. So I did what any weak spineless short beardy man would do, and cut out all my remotely intelligent stuff, before running away ten minutes early promising myself to never ever do that gig again.
Section 2: International Comedian
This weekend I was able to officially upgrade my comedy status from an at who 'performs all over the UK' to 'international comedian' as I embarked on a mini entertainment based adventure to North Cyprus.
Having spent much of my youth at a school with both Greek and Turkish pupils, North Cyprus was something of an enigma to me. Both factions of the Mediterranean kids would be best of friends, apart from during the months after a long summer holiday back in Cyprus. After this there would be several playground battles about whose island it really was, causing the teachers to create barriers not dissimilar to the English troops.
North Cyprus is not legally a country. Well not according to the UN anyway and you wouldn't mess with their say so unless you were a hell bent war dictator from the US. So only according to Turkey is it actually a place, ever since they invaded Cyprus in the 60's. Its not my place to say whether they are in the right or not, even though after studying it, they are clearly not, but it makes North Cyprus an interesting place to be. By crossing a small border and wiping your feet on a mat (not etiquette but actually to prevent the spreading of foot and mouth. Not sure entirely how a carpet prevents diseases. I wonder if Cypriot doctors rub peoples faces with carpet if they are ill. Perhaps they are just the magic carpets of Turkish folklore. We will never know.) the country changes from Greek Orthodox to Muslim, with architecture, language and tradition changing with it. Oh and generally there are a lot less tourists.
But it has become a large haven for UK ex-pats due to cheap land, nice weather and other things British cities no longer have. So now the next thing is to entertain this large ex-pat community, sending myself, Barry Dodds, Andrew Murrell and Rex Boyd as sacrifice for the first ever comedy show north of Nicosia.
The gig itself was great. These people were so desperate for something to do that they treated us like comedy gods. There were a few issues with people talking during the middle section, but most of the people involved apologised to as afterwards, which is something that wouldn't happen in, say, anywhere in the UK ever. And the people were lovely. There was the odd one or two weird ones (never before have I been chatted up by a mother and daughter at the same time, and never ever again do I want to be.) but mostly it was interesting to hear all about to live abroad. All jokes worked too. In fact rarely have I seen an audience so easy to please. After the gig, they refused to let us be dull and go to bed (believe me, I tried.) and bought us drinks till 5.30am in the kind of bar I loathe with music I hate. However, several drinks and I was more than happy to be there.
The only problem with the weekend was all the travelling. Admittedly I got to Cyprus quicker than it took to drive to Bangor in Wales last Monday, but North Westerly Wales is of no comparison to a Mediterranean beach island, no matter what the Welsh tell you. As anyone who's ever flown can tell you, sitting on your arse on a plane is tiring. I still cant work out why, but it is. We flew out early Saturday morning, then drove an hour and a half to the gig, had two hours, then did the gig, partied till the wee hours, and reversed the whole journey the next day. Needless to say I was knackered. Its a crazy amount of miles to be travelled in such a short space of time, something that was re-iterated by our cabin crews confusion that we had only been on the plane the day before. They had just assumed we really didn't like it over there.
It was a good experience though, and I realise that no matter how far away a gig is, its always the same scenario of not having the time to see the area. Of all the places I've been in the UK, I might claim to have visited, but I only really know the upstairs of a pub, the cellar of and arts centre or the comedy club in town. Its just enough to make those three jokes at the top of your set to re-assure the crowd you know everything about where they live. That, as they say, is the magic of show business. Although from the comedians point of view, its more the tragic children's party magician than the glamour of David Blaine.
Section 3: In Addendum
There was a lot more I wanted to type about, but judging the length of this essay it could be my first novel. So you will never know about the poo bin, Barry getting cat aids, the poisoned Jack Daniels, the gangsters or that Stardust is actually half decent. If you see me, do ask.
Oh and if you are lucky/unlucky (depending on your views of the terrible popular music scene) enough to have MTV, watch '2007's Most Shocking Stories'. I say two funny things as a talking head. Only two mind, but goddamn I'm proud of those two.
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