Running a comedy club by accident.


Last night I had less than four hours sleep. Doesn't matter; I'm still buzzing.

This is partially due to the two large black coffees that have already filtered their way past my oesophagus (not an enjoyable word to spell after a late night, nor a pleasing mental image). The main reason for this morning's heightened sense of excitement, however, is that I’m still riding on the coattails of last night’s Mostly Comedy. 

For those of you who are not in the know, Mostly Comedy is the monthly comedy & music club I run with my comedy partner, Glyn Doggett (no affection).

We set it up on a whim, after taking our first show to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2008. It was called ‘The Balloon Debate’; a comedy three-hander set 2000 feet above East Anglia in the basket of a hot-air balloon (a basket we had to set-up and strike in less than seven minutes every night; such is the quick turn-around at the Festival).


 

‘The Balloon Debate’ was Doggett & Ephgrave’s third full-length comedy script – and cost us somewhere in the region of £8,000-£10,000 to take Edinburgh; money we’re still paying back (GOD). That, however, is definitely a story for another blog.

The exact location of Mostly Comedy's gestation was here:


We were about to cross the road on our way to the Gilded Balloon with Chris Hollis (the marginally less-angry half of the musical comedy duo, Spandex Ballet) - when the idea came up to form a multi-arts night in our hometown of Hitchin.

Glyn and I threw the idea back and forth for a month of so - we’re actually quite sporty – and by October of 2008, the first gig was booked in the then asbestos-ridden room above The George Pub.


We had no stand-up material at first. If it hadn’t been for the projector-screen rigged behind the stage, we might never have stumbled across the live act we’ve done ever since.

 
Since then the highlights have been countless; far too many to do justice to after such little sleep (those two Americanos have started to wear off). A handful that spring to mind include:

  • The time when a then-unknown Nick Helm sprinted onto the stage, scatter-bombing jokes at the audience with an enthusiasm that practically took the roof off. The asbestos-ridden roof.
  • James Acaster’s first appearance, dealing with the heckler Mad John so splendidly.
  •  Those early spots from David Trent and Josh Widdicombe, both set for great things.
  •  When Alex Lowe disappeared into The George’s kitchen and came out transformed into 82 year-old Barry From Watford.
  • When Kunt and the Gang caused a hundred people to cram into The Croft (a room that could only comfortably fit fifty).
  • When we first booked Phil Kay. The excitement when he said yes.
  • Richard Herring and Henning Wehn's gigs selling out weeks in advance.
  • The bullet point I included just to see if you were still paying attention.  

I'm going to stop listing things now; it's all getting a little too hyperbolic. 

Hyperbolic? Hyper-BOLLOCKS.


Next month Mostly Comedy celebrates its fifth birthday. In that time the club has seen four Hitchin venues (two years at The George, two years at The Croft and a year at The Market Theatre - plus two 'Summer Specials' at The Queen Mother Theatre). We've played host to four Foster's Comedy Award-nominated shows (we're not taking any credit) - and since January have hosted a London version at the Leicester Square Theatre. We also ran for two years at the Edinburgh Festival to many a pissed tourist. 

We’ve created a MONSTER. A monster that I'm very proud of.

 But enough of that for now. Now I must get some sleep.


Next month's Hitchin Mostly Comedy features Sean Hughes. To book, click here, or click here to download free episodes of our More Than Mostly Comedy Podcast.
 

Popular posts from this blog

Shakerpuppetmaker.

Image
Have Parker from Thunderbirds and Noel Gallagher ever been seen in the same room? The resemblance is uncanny. So much so, I think something’s afoot. If my suspicions are correct, I've stumbled across a secret that will blow the music and puppet industry wide apart. In the mid-60s / mid-90s at least. It doesn’t take long to see the signposts. There’s the similarity between the name of Oasis’ first single, Supersonic, and Supermarianation, Gerry Anderson’s puppetry technique. The Gallagher brothers would often wear Parkas . Live Forever was clearly a reference to Captain Scarlet and Standing on the Shoulder of Giants to the size difference between Noel and his bandmates. The more you think about it, the more brazen it gets. It’s fishier than Area 51, Paul is Dead and JFK's assassination put together. The only glitch to the theory is scale . According to Wikipedia, Anderson’s marionettes were 1’10” and Gallagher is 5’8”. How does he maintain an illusion of avera...
Read more

Comedy That's Worth a Letch.

Today, I nipped to Letchworth to meet with illustrator (and one-time - two-time - comedy poet) Mushybees, to discuss an event Mostly Comedy will act as surrogate parents to as part of Letchworth’s Arts Takeover in a couple of weeks. Months ago he got into contact to see if we’d be up for co-organising a comedy stage as part of Letchworth’s weekend of arts-based attractions in July; something I’d provisionally said yes to, before things got hectic in the lead-up to Edinburgh and we didn’t take it any further. Despite not getting down to the nitty-gritty straight away, we managed to pull a line-up together in a back-and-forth of emails yesterday, leading to me getting Glyn’s blessing and us deciding we’d officially go ahead with it (whatever ‘officially’ means in this context). In reality, it’s not complicated: from 12pm until 6pm-ish on the 22 nd July, Glyn, Mushybees and I will host four Edinburgh previews from four acts (including me), before Nor...
Read more

Stevenage: A (Tiny) River Runs Through it.

If ever a river was mis-sold, it’s the Roaring Meg in Stevenage. I just walked past it on my way to the retail park that has taken its name. They’re similarly uninspiring. The river is less of a roar and more of a dribble; cystitis sufferers produce greater flow. The retail park is soulless. What was once a thriving enterprise is nearly devoid of atmosphere, save an underlying essence of emptiness and despair. With a Toys R Us. When it was first built I was excited. Back then, the thought of a bowling alley, an ice rink, a Harvester and a Blockbuster Video within a small surface area was enticing. I celebrated many birthdays on site. There was an indoor cricket pitch there for a while where I once had a joint party with a friend. Why someone with an almost pathological fear of sport would agree to such a venture is beyond me, but I did it. Now, there’s very little at the Roaring Meg of note. The river would be a metaphor for the shopping ce...
Read more