Here's a short routine I came up with as I walked into town yesterday. I'm not sure I can remember it all, so we'll see...
I walk out.
"Hi, hello, hi there. Pleasure to be here, etc, etc. You know many people have it in their mind that it's very nerve-racking for somebody to walk out in front of a large crowd of people they don't know and do comedy by themselves. Umm, I wouldn't know obviously. Having not played to a large crowd as yet. And that doesn't apear to be a duck I'm going to break today.
Now one famous stand up, I won't name him, once tried to compare stand up comedy and the nervousness that goes with it to something people could relate to. He said that it was like 'being on death row and walking the green mile'. Now, I've never been on death row and I have never walked the green mile. However, I don't know, I just think that comparison may be a little bit off.
Obviously, I can't be a hundred percent sure. As far as I'm aware nobody on death row is known for their wacky sense of humour and their cool, calm way of dealing with pressure from an audience. Likewise, i don't know of any stand up comedian that has found themselves on death row. One can only hope that in the future, Jim Davidson, Roy 'Chubby' Brown and James Corden help us to find out if the comparison is actually a good one.
Now, comedy as you probably all know is subjective. You may not like what I like for example. As a result of this, hecklers are...well known shall we say.
At this point I'd wait for a heckle. If one doesn't happen then it's fine as the material should work either way. I'll write as if their is no heckle. you can work out what it would be like if there was. I'll put the extra bit if there was a heckle in italics.
I want to let you into a little secret actually. During my set, like this, every night, I enjoy playing little games with my audience. what I tend to play the most ladies and gentlemen, is a variation of Where's Wally, the popular kid's book. the variation I play is called Spot the Twat, and I can't be sure but I think the game is over a little earlier tonight than it is usually. unless someone else want's to heckle me?
Here, I am hoping someone would be stupid enough to do it. If not then, well I'd just ignore it and finish the set early. So here is what I would say if there was then a heckle...
Ah yes, there we go. A heckle as asked for by me. Now, many people often love to see how a comedian deals with their heckler. Tonight, is going to be a little different. I won't berate him/her I just want you to all think for a second. How many people, when knowing that the man on stage with the microphone has openly stated that he plays a game called spot the cunt with hecklers...How many people, ladies and gentlemen, would then shout out? This man/woman has done just that. He/She has basically shouted out to the room, "I am a twat! Rejoice! For I am the winner of this game! Spot no more! For it is I! The King/Queen of Twats!"
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed this insight into the life of a comic. Sometimes of course, there are instances where you do just die on stage, which is I think what the comedian was getting at when they compared it to walking the green mile. Where you get no laughs and there's just an idiot standing on the stage with a microphone.
I'd stop speaking here for a bit. Then almost come to my sense as I realise I am that idiot.
I mean basically, where you just want the world or something huge, massive, vast to swallow you up whole...that's the second time tonight I've advertised James Corden in my set. This is bizarre. The mind boggles. Anyway, cheers..."
And that is that! Came up with it on the way into town. I personally quite like it, but I'd love to hear feedback from anyone who reads this as I may, just may...actually try it out. We'll have to see.
Thanks for reading.
Monday, 31 August 2009
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
A True Story For Once
Okay, I have just decided to write this up as it happened to me and a group of friends on Monday and frankly, it was hilarious at the time and I am sure it will be hilarious when I have written it up. It is also one of the only things I have chucked on here that actually happened to me.
My friends and I had all just left the Banksy exhibition in Bristol. A really good day out and highly recommended, if you are wondering. The queue wasn't too bad, either.
Now, we had dinner and then headed off to the car park. This is where the fun begins. the fee came to £6. We paid the ticket after a few of us didn't have enough coins to pay their share. Anyway, it was paid, we'd had a good day now let's head home.
One of my friends, let's call him friend 1, grabs the ticket. Note, this is not the driver of the car. The driver of the car wants the ticket. He doesn't really need it at that stage as we are nowhere near the car at that time. but he wants it. He tells this to friend 1. Friend 2 and I meanwhile, just watch the ensuing rubbish jokey argument between them.
This is where it gets ridiculous. The driver gives up on asking for the ticket so presses the button for the lift. Friend 1, bored of holding the ticket since the driver now doesn't care for it, decides to throw the card at his back. He throws the card in the classic way of throwing cards so it flies seamlessly through the air. At just this moment the lift doors open for us to step in. The ticket misses the driver's back and land right on the edge of the gap between floor and lift.
It then flips over and plummets down this gap. Never to be seen again.
We all stare at each other. this wasn't in the plan. So we get the thrower of the ticket, Friend 1, to go to the machine and ask for help. He says we have lost our ticket and we are all told to walk down to the ticket office on Floor A. So we trudge downstairs, in a state of shock at the events we have just witnessed. At the same time laughing at such a ridiculous turn of events.
We reach the ticket office. Myself and friend 2 stand back from the discussion between driver, friend 1 and the two ticket officers. We are then called over by friend 1. We have been given ulitmatum. the ticket man tells us that we can either pay the £18 fine as is normal, or sing jingle bells as a quartet to get out. It's a no brainer.
The four of us quickly run through the lyrics of jingle bells together as we await our impromptu first and most likely, last, performance as a quartet. Meanwhile, one ticket man is moving the CCTV cameras onto us and calling up to his mate on another floor to watch the screen. We are motioned by the other ticket man to sing the song. We sing.
The two ticket men, evil people that they are, record this display and have the cheek to laugh as we sing our hearts out for our escape. After the one verse that everybody knows, we are told that we are free to go and he'll let us out as we drive down. Embarrassed we return to the car, located on floor K.
As we approach the barrier, we blast out a Sufjan Stevens version of Jingle Bells from my iPod, much to the delight of one of the ticket men, who lets us out.
I'll sum this up in a sentence. My friends and I had to sing jingle bells to two ticket men at the ticket office, to get out of a car park in Bristol, in order to get home, after one of our number threw the ticket down the lift shaft.
What a day.
My friends and I had all just left the Banksy exhibition in Bristol. A really good day out and highly recommended, if you are wondering. The queue wasn't too bad, either.
Now, we had dinner and then headed off to the car park. This is where the fun begins. the fee came to £6. We paid the ticket after a few of us didn't have enough coins to pay their share. Anyway, it was paid, we'd had a good day now let's head home.
One of my friends, let's call him friend 1, grabs the ticket. Note, this is not the driver of the car. The driver of the car wants the ticket. He doesn't really need it at that stage as we are nowhere near the car at that time. but he wants it. He tells this to friend 1. Friend 2 and I meanwhile, just watch the ensuing rubbish jokey argument between them.
This is where it gets ridiculous. The driver gives up on asking for the ticket so presses the button for the lift. Friend 1, bored of holding the ticket since the driver now doesn't care for it, decides to throw the card at his back. He throws the card in the classic way of throwing cards so it flies seamlessly through the air. At just this moment the lift doors open for us to step in. The ticket misses the driver's back and land right on the edge of the gap between floor and lift.
It then flips over and plummets down this gap. Never to be seen again.
We all stare at each other. this wasn't in the plan. So we get the thrower of the ticket, Friend 1, to go to the machine and ask for help. He says we have lost our ticket and we are all told to walk down to the ticket office on Floor A. So we trudge downstairs, in a state of shock at the events we have just witnessed. At the same time laughing at such a ridiculous turn of events.
We reach the ticket office. Myself and friend 2 stand back from the discussion between driver, friend 1 and the two ticket officers. We are then called over by friend 1. We have been given ulitmatum. the ticket man tells us that we can either pay the £18 fine as is normal, or sing jingle bells as a quartet to get out. It's a no brainer.
The four of us quickly run through the lyrics of jingle bells together as we await our impromptu first and most likely, last, performance as a quartet. Meanwhile, one ticket man is moving the CCTV cameras onto us and calling up to his mate on another floor to watch the screen. We are motioned by the other ticket man to sing the song. We sing.
The two ticket men, evil people that they are, record this display and have the cheek to laugh as we sing our hearts out for our escape. After the one verse that everybody knows, we are told that we are free to go and he'll let us out as we drive down. Embarrassed we return to the car, located on floor K.
As we approach the barrier, we blast out a Sufjan Stevens version of Jingle Bells from my iPod, much to the delight of one of the ticket men, who lets us out.
I'll sum this up in a sentence. My friends and I had to sing jingle bells to two ticket men at the ticket office, to get out of a car park in Bristol, in order to get home, after one of our number threw the ticket down the lift shaft.
What a day.
Stairs
And so you reach the stairs. Every persons approach to the stairs is slightly different but we all kind of feel that they are a challenge which we must conquer. There’s the whole feeling that you are a mountaineer and they are Everest. No? Just me then. But either way, nobody just walks up stairs. Why walk when you can run? Why run, when you can go up using your hands, as many people did as children and a few adults still do now. Not all the time, not when at a party but occasionally, when alone. Foot, foot, hand, hand. And go! What a feeling! And it’s faster too isn’t it? Why do we walk or jog up so civilised when you can spider your way up. This is the future! Then your partner returns home and all is forgotten.
But it’s not really forgotten, you just scale it back somewhat. Okay, so you can’t walk up the stairs using the spider method but you can still make it exciting. Each stair is probably measured precisely, to make it easier for us to ascend to the next level. But no. We don’t like that. Many take stairs two at a time. Oh yes. Then three at a time if you are up to it. And the most ambitious are four stair people. Oh yeah. Scale up to the next floor in just four or five steps. Beat that girlfriend. And although you don’t say it, it’s obvious you are thinking it as the smile is so wide. Then you realise it’s an achievement to be kept to yourself and nobody will ever know what you have achieved. So you’ll make them realise. By doing a five step wonder.
The five step wonder. Many of you will have attempted it. Maybe not with an audience as it takes some doing. Five steps. In one go. Possibly up to the second floor in just three steps. Imagine that. It’s a legend of the stairs. Some who have attempted succeed. Others...their trousers don’t survive the attempt. Or worse, you fall when doing it. This is worse in public but you can often attempt to disguise it as though you slipped. But even then you feel like an idiot because what kind of moron slips on stairs? There are loads of them to hit! And you miss every single one? Oh the embarrassment.
If you do slip for real, chances are you stub your toe. Now coupling that with missing a step. Well, you have entered a whole new league of embarrassment for yourself. There is now quite as depressing as watching somebody wince having stubbed their toe. Misjudgement. Bam. Instant pain. The only thing that probably rivals a stubbed toe is a paper cut. But a stubbed toe on the stairs? Nothing rivals it. Not even eyelash in the eye. Because you still have to get down or scale the stairs. And you are in pain! So the three steps if you’re a three stepper become two steps. A two stepper – the most common stepper stair scaler (yes there’s a name for it) has to go down to one. And God, do you feel foolish for that.
Luckily, if you are in public, there are alternatives. The lift? Perhaps not, what with the ‘please only used if disabled’ sign. But it’s already been built. And it is there. And there is nobody with a wheelchair in sight. Hmm. You do have morals. As you way up the pro’s and con’s of using a lift, you see it. The escalator. Hooray! Stairs but no effort involved. You approach like you would the stairs, and then you’re gone. Up, up, up. Some idiots still insist on walking up or down these things when they move for you. I mean why would they? And then you think to yourself. Ooh hang on a second. Could I get down the up escalator if I run really fast? Or vice versa? This thought runs through your brain...then you realise as we all have, that you are an adult and should get a life. So you walk on.
Being careful to avoid any cracks in the pavements...
But it’s not really forgotten, you just scale it back somewhat. Okay, so you can’t walk up the stairs using the spider method but you can still make it exciting. Each stair is probably measured precisely, to make it easier for us to ascend to the next level. But no. We don’t like that. Many take stairs two at a time. Oh yes. Then three at a time if you are up to it. And the most ambitious are four stair people. Oh yeah. Scale up to the next floor in just four or five steps. Beat that girlfriend. And although you don’t say it, it’s obvious you are thinking it as the smile is so wide. Then you realise it’s an achievement to be kept to yourself and nobody will ever know what you have achieved. So you’ll make them realise. By doing a five step wonder.
The five step wonder. Many of you will have attempted it. Maybe not with an audience as it takes some doing. Five steps. In one go. Possibly up to the second floor in just three steps. Imagine that. It’s a legend of the stairs. Some who have attempted succeed. Others...their trousers don’t survive the attempt. Or worse, you fall when doing it. This is worse in public but you can often attempt to disguise it as though you slipped. But even then you feel like an idiot because what kind of moron slips on stairs? There are loads of them to hit! And you miss every single one? Oh the embarrassment.
If you do slip for real, chances are you stub your toe. Now coupling that with missing a step. Well, you have entered a whole new league of embarrassment for yourself. There is now quite as depressing as watching somebody wince having stubbed their toe. Misjudgement. Bam. Instant pain. The only thing that probably rivals a stubbed toe is a paper cut. But a stubbed toe on the stairs? Nothing rivals it. Not even eyelash in the eye. Because you still have to get down or scale the stairs. And you are in pain! So the three steps if you’re a three stepper become two steps. A two stepper – the most common stepper stair scaler (yes there’s a name for it) has to go down to one. And God, do you feel foolish for that.
Luckily, if you are in public, there are alternatives. The lift? Perhaps not, what with the ‘please only used if disabled’ sign. But it’s already been built. And it is there. And there is nobody with a wheelchair in sight. Hmm. You do have morals. As you way up the pro’s and con’s of using a lift, you see it. The escalator. Hooray! Stairs but no effort involved. You approach like you would the stairs, and then you’re gone. Up, up, up. Some idiots still insist on walking up or down these things when they move for you. I mean why would they? And then you think to yourself. Ooh hang on a second. Could I get down the up escalator if I run really fast? Or vice versa? This thought runs through your brain...then you realise as we all have, that you are an adult and should get a life. So you walk on.
Being careful to avoid any cracks in the pavements...
Monday, 17 August 2009
St John's Ambulance
I was at a gig the other day and a pretty much full can of Carling was chucked at me from behind. Blood everywhere. St John's Ambulance had seen nothing like it so I told them it was a drink made from malted barley which they'd be able to drink when they are old enough. I then gave them a lollipop each and went on my way.
Saturday, 8 August 2009
Rebound/Luck
Okay, this is a routine I have been working on recently in my head. I have probably forgotten parts as I came up with it about a week ago, even before the fillings one in fact. It may get pretty long...so bear with me. It's an intro piece by the way...hence the beginning.
'Hello, and yes, it really is me and yes, I really am this good looking. Of course, that last bit I don't really believe, only a wanker could think that highly of themselves. If you are sitting there now thinking, "But I'm good looking and I'm not a wanker..." Then think of this as a free newsflash for you.
Of course it's a shame that so many good looking people are pricks, because let's be honest, most of us have lost out to them when chasing after a person who we really rather like. It's a plus in the end though, as you always know that person will be back on the dating scene soon enough once she realises what everyone else already knows. Now, many people's response to you going after someone is that, 'They'll be on the rebound." They say this like it's a bad thing. I know the rules of football and even if you scored on the rebound, it does count.
Now I went for this approach, simply after a rebound result so to speak, yes I coined that, and before I could tell her how I felt she said to me, "You know what, any girl would be so lucky to have you as their boyfriend." At that point my heart wasn't beating, it was jumping about ona little trampoline doing somersaults. I was leaping over the bloody moon. I thought that this would be a dead cert. So, I told her how I felt and she let me down lightly..."It's just...I think we should remain friends."
Woah! Woah, woah, woah. Let's just backtrack a few minutes. "Any girl would be so lucky." You said that! 'ANY' GIRL. YOU CAN BE THAT GIRL! BE LUCKY! I'M LETTING YOU BE LUCKY!" She wasn't budging. So I stepped it up a bit. "There are 3 billion women on this planet, and out of all these girls, who could be so lucky, I have chosen you. So how does that make you feel?"
She took a step back at this point, and said, "Like I'm giving somebody else a chance." I thought fair enough, she is being kind to the legions of other women out there. But later that night I realised she wasn't talking about me as I realised she gave my mate Dave a chance. And he took it. So I re-evaluated as I watched them making out. Any girl...any of the girls out there."
Now at this point of the thought-process I have two possible punchlines. They are:
"So I took it upon myself and raped her mum."
AND
"So I became a paedophile...and let me be honest it was bit tight for a while but I'm easing into it."
But I don;t know if I want to be offensive. I can't think of any other way to end that joke. Except for maybe something simple like, "So I left them to it, downed my drink and went and punched a good looking bloke, which made me feel a heck of a lot better." But who knows...
'Hello, and yes, it really is me and yes, I really am this good looking. Of course, that last bit I don't really believe, only a wanker could think that highly of themselves. If you are sitting there now thinking, "But I'm good looking and I'm not a wanker..." Then think of this as a free newsflash for you.
Of course it's a shame that so many good looking people are pricks, because let's be honest, most of us have lost out to them when chasing after a person who we really rather like. It's a plus in the end though, as you always know that person will be back on the dating scene soon enough once she realises what everyone else already knows. Now, many people's response to you going after someone is that, 'They'll be on the rebound." They say this like it's a bad thing. I know the rules of football and even if you scored on the rebound, it does count.
Now I went for this approach, simply after a rebound result so to speak, yes I coined that, and before I could tell her how I felt she said to me, "You know what, any girl would be so lucky to have you as their boyfriend." At that point my heart wasn't beating, it was jumping about ona little trampoline doing somersaults. I was leaping over the bloody moon. I thought that this would be a dead cert. So, I told her how I felt and she let me down lightly..."It's just...I think we should remain friends."
Woah! Woah, woah, woah. Let's just backtrack a few minutes. "Any girl would be so lucky." You said that! 'ANY' GIRL. YOU CAN BE THAT GIRL! BE LUCKY! I'M LETTING YOU BE LUCKY!" She wasn't budging. So I stepped it up a bit. "There are 3 billion women on this planet, and out of all these girls, who could be so lucky, I have chosen you. So how does that make you feel?"
She took a step back at this point, and said, "Like I'm giving somebody else a chance." I thought fair enough, she is being kind to the legions of other women out there. But later that night I realised she wasn't talking about me as I realised she gave my mate Dave a chance. And he took it. So I re-evaluated as I watched them making out. Any girl...any of the girls out there."
Now at this point of the thought-process I have two possible punchlines. They are:
"So I took it upon myself and raped her mum."
AND
"So I became a paedophile...and let me be honest it was bit tight for a while but I'm easing into it."
But I don;t know if I want to be offensive. I can't think of any other way to end that joke. Except for maybe something simple like, "So I left them to it, downed my drink and went and punched a good looking bloke, which made me feel a heck of a lot better." But who knows...
Sunday, 2 August 2009
Fillings
I have some news. My filling has fallen out. Yes, it has. This is kind of annoying as the tooth in question now has a gaping hole I can feel with my tongue. That hole was definitely not there before the dentist got his hands on my mouth. Fillings seem like a good idea until they fail miserably and then you're left with this kind of problem which, frankly, the dentist has just added to by being trigger happy with the drill.
Why do they need to drill away part of the tooth to put the filling in? Before all this started, my teeth all felt normal. Okay, so one apparently needed a filling but it wasn't bothering me. I couldn't tell. But now, it's so bloody obvious to me because my not-too-bad tooth has been drilled away quite casually. It is now like a shell of a tooth than an actual tooth. And another visit to the dentist tomorrow. I guarantee the dentist drills a bit more as well, for no bloody reason. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
Why do they need to drill away part of the tooth to put the filling in? Before all this started, my teeth all felt normal. Okay, so one apparently needed a filling but it wasn't bothering me. I couldn't tell. But now, it's so bloody obvious to me because my not-too-bad tooth has been drilled away quite casually. It is now like a shell of a tooth than an actual tooth. And another visit to the dentist tomorrow. I guarantee the dentist drills a bit more as well, for no bloody reason. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
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