It really has been a torrid week, culminating in a horrendous gong show last night, the most savage one I’ve experienced yet. I think I was fairly lucky as it goes, but tomorrow night’s midnight gong at Top Secret Comedy I’ve been assured will blow my mind for savagery. So, I may be premature in saying the week culminated with last night’s gong.
I knew the odds were against me last night when I learnt I was going on 17th in a 19-strong line-up. A long night for pissed up punters, by the time you go on late, unless you’re having a brilliant night or are at a level where you should be doing bigger nights, in which case, why would you be doing a gong show, chances are you’re in for a hard night. I was surprised I made it past 4 minutes. I did a brilliant set at the same gong show several months back but had my arse/three cards handed to me soon as my two-minutes grace period was over. Goes to show you can’t read too much into these things, and the standard at the gong last night was inferior to my first experience of it back in the summer. From the start I could see that even by the standards of the average gong, last night’s was quite a hostile audience. It took a while for any act to win through and of the early gong-beaters, I was a little disappointed with what I saw, but then I saw one or two familiar names later in the first half, and as expected, they negotiated their five minutes rather comfortably.
One woman in her late thirties is very good. I’ve seen her before, at a competition where I was predictably knocked out right away, and I came away surprised that she hadn’t won through because she was easily in the top three. It was one of those competitions where if you don’t bring your pals to cheer you on, you’re in trouble and with my tiny social circle of mainly old couldn’t give-a-****-you’re-doing-comedy-friends, I’m never turning up at a competition armed with a supportive mob. I left that night believing I’d done enough to win through and was even more certain that she should’ve been leading that progress to that next heat. It’s that inconsistency of these nights that is so maddening. I believe if I’d gone on last night before the mob got too pissed, like early in the second half, or in the first half, I’d have progressed, because I was very surprised I made it as far as I did.
The night was predictably stolen by a well-known circuit clown. The clown thing isn’t really my bag and never has been, I just think the laughs are too easy and that stuff belongs on soe variety show, but I’ve got to hand it to the act. I’d have hated to follow them last night. The timing they displayed for their slapstick and very unusual set was incredible. I rehearse my behind off doing this, as I’m sure most comics do, but for what this guy does, he’d probably have to do even more to nail that set down. It was clever, yes, funny, but it was the timing that made you think, “Eff me.” It might not be for me but they’re certainly a talent.
My own favourite was this late-20-something comic I’d not seen before. He had a tight set, funny lines, good stage persona. If you’d put him up against the clown, the clown will always win when it comes to the audience but as a fan of pure stand up, I take the stand up any day. I look forward to seeing him around on the circuit. Hopefully he’ll forgive my poor handshake last night. I suspect the week had caught up with me, but will I ever get the chance to explain to him the boiler had packed in that week and I was off my handshake game?
It was a bad night. I could pretend I don’t care, but clearly I do. You want to do well. Okay, you want to do more than well, you want to do brilliant. It was the last 20-30 seconds of savagery from some in the audience that probably took me aback for a minute or two. I’m a fairly passive long-tempered guy, and I don’t have that in me, so it’s always a thing for me to see it in others who don’t know you. A set that had gone well, if not as well as it usually does most nights, had seen me edge towards the latter stages of my five, but suddenly some had had enough and made their opinions known.
In a week when I’d not had a working boiler for three days, I probably took it a bit harder than I normally would. Usually, when I haven’t beaten a gong, it takes me a day or two to get over the disappointment. I soon see the value in the night and feel its benefit at my next gig or two. Last time out, I lucked in that one of the panellists at the Vauxhall gong gave me some brilliant advice which they may not have thought much of, but it was invaluable. Within 24 hours, at my next gig, I’d fixed the set. I messaged him on FB because I think when people do you a good turn, it’s right to let them know.
That post-gong-learning is likely to take longer this week given tomorrow night I go up in front of another boozed up crowd paying to watch (and boo) comedy for a pound. I’m all for punters paying to see the arts, but ideally without the copious amounts of hatred-inducing booze.
A word for the gas engineer this morning who was honest enough to say he couldn’t charge me the £400 I’d paid to have the boiler fixed. I’m not too shabby at DIY these days and I’d learned how to fix low pressure on the boiler a year ago when it was last an issue, but he told me the reason I wasn’t able to this time was one of the taps you turn to fix the pressure had had gotten stuck. He could easily have kept quiet. It was commendable on his part, though we’d gotten off to a disappointing start when he asked to use the loo right on arrival. That’s the problem with the older workmen. Their bladders can’t see out a long job. I’d spotted him and the younger guy walking down the road towards the building and I was thinking to myself, “Please don’t let it be those two gophers.” Basically, if they look like the kind of guys who are going to ask to use your loo, I don’t want them in the flat.
This afternoon, I told my aunt about the guy’s honesty, and his urinating in the loo.
“He’s saved you £400,” she said. “He was entitled to do more than that.”
I suppose, but I’d have had to move out if it had progressed beyond the ‘1’. As it was, it took me three hours to return to the loo to blitz it clean. It will take me weeks before it feels like mine again. As I approached the loo with all my cleaning equipment, I felt the dread I normally feel when I’m inspecting suspected rodent activity.
Re. the boiler refund, it’s ten days to wait for the refund. At the end of a crap week, I’ll take that.
I left my aunt and uncle rowing, inevitably, this time over my uncle’s claim that he suspects my aunt has pushed away her chair in the front room further away from him. How these two are still married is beyond me.
Meantime, here in the café, the barking door continues to ‘bark’. I think we’ll soon forget about it until one day, finally, the bark audio is no longer there.
Over to my right, sat by the window, are three Americans, the Alpha Male among them doing a tremendous job of removing the bones. I don’t mind some fish. It’s the smell I can’t abide. It’s just on the right side of unpleasant. I did a gig midweek where you had some diners present and one had ordered fish. Trying to be funny when the room is awash with a piscine odour, that’s not my idea of fun.
Mind you, I’d take it over a gong show.
Hopefully the imminent start of the new Star Wars Football Season will lift my mood in the next week.
A final line before I depart. That suspicious-looking stain on my new notebook (see picture) is actually hand gel. Attempting to clean it has elevated the stain to another level. When I’ve left this world and people are clearing my flat, laughing at my dated wardrobe and rifling through my notebooks, what will they make of this curious stain? Will a lone wolf stand up as all are making clear their opinion that the dubious-looking blotch on the cover can only be one thing, and put them all right that this is blemish was caused by some hand gel?
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