Weekends can be a problem for me if I’m not gigging. Sometimes I can use that tiredness to just stay in and do nothing which can increase that sense of isolation, but I’m determined today to get out and leave the flat, whether to see my aunt and uncle, both of whom have been poorly this week, albeit still in their usual very funny form, or visit a friend in south London.
I’ve always struggled mentally at this time of year. I’ve never been sure if it’s the seasonal change (it never happens when summer turns to autumn) or if it’s the looming birthday. While I can handle Christmas, I’ve never enjoyed birthdays. Once I got past 22, I remember thinking, “Yeah, this isn’t fun anymore. I’d like it to stop.” 22, you’re an adult but you’re still young enough to be able to get away with mistakes. I just don’t think I ever wanted to grow up. I think sometimes that inability to grasp what being an adult entails is why I’ve probably completely failed to buy into any element of the social contract. That’s been on my mind a lot. How much of that was down to putting everything into being a writer once I turned 17, I don’t know. It’s definitely played a part. But at home there were no real examples too because my parents were always in survival mode. There was never any plan beyond that.
Yesterday was fairly decent. I managed to get out for my second run of the week, managing my injury better than I have for months. I then had two shows in the evening, the first in Brixton where I was opening and then I dashed off to Highgate for an enjoyable show. I was aiming for a quick start to the year as far as gigs go and I’ve certainly accomplished that, having done 50 gigs in just 103 days. It is a punishing schedule, physically and mentally, but that constant gigging gives you a comfort and fluidity on stage that is up a level, say, if I’d done 30 shows so far this year, which would’ve been a decent start to the year too. Gigging though at the demanding pace of this year has led to some brilliant sold out shows in front of audiences of 100 and 150, and I’m booked in for further big nights as we move into summer.
Opening a night is always a challenge. I get to open a lot, yesterday out of necessity because I had a second show to get to. I’m not sure I am an opener being a low energy comic but it’s a good experience to step out in front of what is often a cold room. I sometimes think when a promoter sticks me on to open, they haven’t really done their homework on me. I agree with the promoters who tell me they would never have me open a night. I’m definitely a closer but I’m not an opener. More often than not I’ve done very well but regardless of how good you’ve done, the opener always knows if they were on the line up later, they’d have done even better. But it is a good experience.
On Wednesday I was at a strange night in Canning Town. That was a trek to get to, I can tell you. It was such a strange space, with most of the venue invisible to the acts. And the backdrop to the stage (it was a glass-heavy venue) was visually the most depressing one I’ve ever encountered. Overgrown winds blowing in the blustery condition. I closed the night and did really well, so again, confirmation I can adapt to the requirements and challenges thrown up by a night but I was glad to get out of Canning Town.
Audience behaviour sometimes is poor. All comics will tell you that. At Thursday’s show, a man who was about twenty years too old for the ripped jeans he was wearing – the tears on the knees were ridiculously perfect – had two phones on him and twice took calls on one of the phones while acts were on. I had to quieten him down at one point - you can’t ignore these guys otherwise the audience will think you weak - and the young comic going on two spots after me was relieved the guy and his girlfriend had gone by the time his turn came.
At last night’s second show, one woman had her laptop out as the MC was opening the second half. He rightly pulled her up on it. She had apparently sold a house at that very moment. I assumed, because she looked ridiculously young, that perhaps she was an estate agent and she’d closed a deal but the consensus among the comics afterwards was, no, she had actually sold her home. After closing her laptop, she was then caught on her phone and was, apparently, she told the MC, messaging friends to tell them the house had been sold. Audience behaviour beggars’ belief at times. Like messaging her friends couldn’t wait until after the show.
There was one night back in February where I’d opened in Redhill to an audience of 70 and again, done well, coming off stage knowing later in the night that set goes down even better. But it was 70 in the audience and those bigger nights are the easier nights. The following evening, I was in a rough Peckham venue in front of four off their heads on more than alcohol punters, the kind of guys you get at a boxing event, and it was a nightmare, particularly for those of us on in the second half. You can contend with hecklers. You expect them. But when people are just talking through your set or commenting on after every single thing a comic has said, it comes down to ‘crowd control’ as one comic told me. You can easily lose the thread of your set.
It's good to be experienced enough to know you can deal with these things. These nights as another friend said, ‘forge you in fire’, but it also gives you an unwanted insight into how badly behaved people can be.
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