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Freed(em)on.

I exorcised a few demons tonight. 

I took part in the first heat of So You Think Your Funny, which was a surprisingly enjoyable experience. This wasn't the source of the demon exorcising, incidentally; I'll get to that.
Competing in a comedy competition is something I never thought I'd do; SYTYF in particular. I remember attending a semi-final with Glyn and our fellow cast member Calogero Tumminello, when we took our play the Balloon Debate to Edinburgh in 2008, and us all remarking as we sat in the audience how the idea of being part of an event with that name was terrifying. It sounded like a taunt. To make it worse, the applicants performed between two free-standing screens bearing the So You Think Your Funny legend; those five accusitory words boreing into them from both sides. It may as well have been called 'PROVE YOURSELF'. 

Tonight, seven years later, I stood between those free-standing screens myself. I didn't see that coming. Back in 2008, the thought of performing stand-up hadn't entered into my head, least of all solo. Right now, it's still a fledgling experience, with me being only eight months into it. Why not confound my own expectations by giving SYTYF a go, at the only time I might be eligible to do it?

(...I'll get to the exorcism in a minute.) 

Everything about tonight was lovely, just to confound my expectations. The organisers were friendly, low-key and put us at our ease. The fact that we weren't competing directly (the panel decide who goes through at a later date after seeing every participant) made things easier. I was reasonably happy with how my set went. We shall see. It was good to give it a go, if only to counter what Past David once said. 

After the gig finished, I walked along the South Bank, past the London Eye, then crossed Jubilee Bridge towards Embankment. I took in the skyline on my way. As I came down the steps on the north side of the bridge, I was confronted with the Playhouse Theatre: the scene of my less-than-joyful West End debut experience. I found myself tracing the route I took to the tube after each show. I was desperately unhappy back then, mainly due to illness. I was suffering from a full-blown bout of labyrinthitis, which made the job a near-impossibility. I also had the threat of two unsuited understudy tracks hanging over my head, which could lead to me being called on at any minute, with no notice, when I wasn't well enough to do it. I'd breath a sigh of relief as I stepped onto the escalator after the show, knowing all the while that my nightmare scenario could happen the next day. 

As I walked down the escalator this evening , I let out a different sigh of relief. It was good to be there in entirely different circumstances. Whatever comes of tonight's heat is irrelevant. I'm finding my niche. Being an actor / musician never satisfied me like being a comedian* does. I'm doing things on my own terms, and not trying to fit into someone else's crudely-drawn requirements. I'm grateful for the opportunity working at The Playhouse gave me, and it was a wonderful thing to do, but I'd much rather be telling jokes; therein lies the exorcism and the release. 

(I'm not sure that even means anything.)

 *alleged.


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