mostly david ephgrave

Yesterday, I used the example of Star Trek's "redshirts" trope in my therapy appointment after my therapist suggested I'm too intent on trying to solve my current problems myself, instead of handing them to someone more qualified to deal with them (in this case, the solicitor I've taken on to negotiate issues relating to my dad's estate). If you're not familiar with the principle, it's simple: whenever the crew land on a mysterious alien planet, it's always the cast-members dressed in red and not blue - the actors with a handful of IMDB credits as opposed to Shatner, Nimoy or Kelly - who walk headfirst into danger to meet a sticky end. This happens often enough not to be a primary-coloured coincidence and is so common a plot-point to have inspired a comic novel of the same name.  While I'd usually agree with this summation, I know it doesn't apply in this instance, as things have been so terrible since my dad's death, I crave d...

I don't feel much momentum at the moment; everything's at a standstill. When I did the only preview that went ahead this year, I found energy I hadn't expected that drove the show along and made me feel I could still do Edinburgh, despite  the inevitable impact of the loss of my dad and the circumstances around it ; that, plus the money donated, showed I had support from an unseen audience. However, the project was inevitably on a knife-edge and still vulnerable to collapse; it was a delicate balance susceptible to sabotage from extra pressure. And that's what happened: I hit a familiar brick wall. The inability to strike a temporary compromise with a close relative over my dad's estate made me feel unable to leave home for a month with everything in flux, so I cancelled the run with a few days' notice at a cost of over £6000. And not only did the relative never mention the cancellation or the fact I was meant to be doing Edinburgh at all  until a ...

After five and a half years, Glyn and I have moved to a bigger office on the same premises, which now puts us at the advantage of having room to swing a Bengal tiger. When we took on the first space, we worried if we could justify it, but despite being the size of a modest broom-cupboard (with just enough room to keep a dustpan & brush), we put it to good use; all my solo shows were written and rehearsed there, and the majority of our radio shows were recorded there too, which was a bit of a squeeze for the three of us involved.  It was also a storeroom for our Mostly Comedy gear in-between shows, which pretty much rendered it impossible to run our material there without kissing. (Like that's an excuse.) While it's sad to see it go (admittedly only across the corridor) the move is a positive step that reeks of potential. The new office is actually two rooms - one the size of our original office and another approximately six times bigger - which enables us to ke...

Today we buried my dad's ashes at the church in Woolmer Green where we had his funeral, opposite his old school and the pub he drank in regularly, in the same grave as his parents. The service was brief but pleasant, in the presence of his close family, and I had the responsibility of lowering the casket at the opportune moment. Doing this was hard, inevitably, but it also meant a lot to be the one to do it, and I hope it would give me dad comfort to know the task went to me; I love and miss him unceasingly and he's always on my mind (look out, Willie Nelson), and he told me not long before he died that I made him less afraid, so I hope I helped. There's one conversation we had in his last few weeks that was pertinent. Like many men, we didn't express the depth of our feelings until the last moment, but they could still be summed up in a few words. At the time, my heart ached as we navigated difficult topics knowing there wouldn't be a second chance. But I ...

I know I've mentioned it before, but I feel entirely zapped of creativity at the moment; circumstances are such that I'd currently struggle to define myself as a comedian, or anything else. At best, I'd put myself as a frustrated comedy promoter in that all I'm doing is keeping my club ticking over post-Edinburgh without deriving much joy from it. My enthusiasm has taken a severe dip in the wake of attempting to settle my private situation and the knock to my confidence was compounded by the loss of my dad and by pulling Edinburgh, despite the attention and encouragement I'd received in advance; I feel like I conned the people who donated to my JustGiving page, despite the fact that cancelling the run cost more than the money I raised to do it. Outside of running the club, I can keep a low profile for awhile - I'm not going up for castings and the Mostly gigs are the only performance dates in the diary - but I'd still sooner not be doing stand-up th...

Today, Neil Innes told me off for writing a song so catchy it stuck in his head, which was a compliment I'm delighted to take on board. Posing with Neil Innes after tonight's Hitchin Mostly Comedy (03.10.19) He said it to me just after Glyn and I finished soundchecking Ukulele Girl for the evening's show; something I felt very conscious he was watching at the back. Being nonchalant about it was never going to be easy - this was someone who'd worked with Paul McCartney and George Harrison, after all - but I did my best to act like he was the sort of audience I put up with every day. He turned out to be lovely, which is always a bonus when you meet someone with his pedigree whose work you highly rate. I suspected I'd at least be able to talk to him quite freely about the work of him and his contemporaries, but it was nice that he was happy to discuss them, and was just generally a good sport. It goes to show how the biggest and best people we have at the c...