mostly david ephgrave

The past few days have been sad ones for the comedy industry, what with the loss of two old-time comic greats, Ken Dodd and Jim Bowen. I never got to see one of Dodd’s infamously epic shows in person, which was a shame, as it would have been fascinating to see a performer of almost unparalleled experience at work. I actually tried to book him twice for Mostly Comedy, which didn’t work out, which was a pity, as it would have been a real coup for the club and a solid learning experience. Hearing Ted Robbins eulogise Ken Dodd on BBC Breakfast on Monday served to reiterate just how distinctive his comic voice was; Robbins inevitably slipped a couple of his gags into conversation, and not only were they perfect, you could also hear Dodd’s delivery in the air (as opposed to in his hair, which was another trademark). There aren’t many comedians who can be present in their own jokes while also not being there. As for Jim Bowen, I was lucky enough t...

Today was one those days when admin conspired to get in the way of the writing I’d hoped to do. Despite this disappointment, I managed to get a lot done, including the press release for this month’s Hitchin Mostly and the mailing list mail-out on our forthcoming dates with Mark Watson, Richard Herring, Hattie Hayridge, Angelos & Barry and the rest. I very nearly had to abandon everything this morning though, when my coffee grinder refused to work when I tried to facilitate my all-important first caffeine hit of the day. As a man who can barely function without a mug of coffee with his breakfast, I was a strange mix of sleepy and livid. All attempts to trick the machine into working came to no avail, leading to a trip to Caffè Nero and a hasty online reservation of a new grinder from Argos. I’d actually intended on going to Caffè Nero today anyway to do my admin, as I thought it would make a change from doing it at home or in the office, so I co...

Jim Bowen was only forty-four when he started presenting Bullseye. Bowen, Series One. Yes, you heard me right: forty-four. That’s just ten years older than me. While I’m a fan of Bowen and see him as an institution, that doesn’t mean I’d want to look like him a decade from now. If I do, my degradation rate will be similar to Walter Donovan's after drinking from the wrong grail at the end of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. (Classic reference.) Jim, Circa 1981 To hammer the point home, I’ve compiled a list of famous people who are the same age now as Jim Bowen was then . It’s right at the time of going to press and is pretty comprehensive. Strap in… David Tennant, Matt Damon, Ewan McGregor, Gary Barlow, Susanna Reid, Lisa Snowdon, Tamzin Outhwaite, David Walliams, Pete Sampras, Ethan Hawke, Jamie Theakston, Tess Daly, David Coulthard, Melinda Messenger, Mary J Bl...

The only things I’ve ever bought on eBay are a kangaroo suit and a gimp mask. I should explain before you think they were for something nefarious. They're both props. The mask was for a sketch and the skin costume was for a script reading; click here - and see below - for proof. A marsupial, Michael Barrymore and me. Despite having an alibi, my eBay history concerns me. I don’t like the impression it creates. I wouldn’t trust someone who’s purchased that and nothing else. Do eBay have a panic button? If so, I wonder what third item would result in a custodial sentence. What if GCHQ are putting together a profile of me? I’d hate my ownership of a leather face garment and a marsupial outfit to affect my job prospects. I suppose it could be worse. I could have bought this too. That is the most terrifying fancy dress costume on the planet. Still. Free delivery.

As I hurtled towards Marco Polo Airport by speedboat this morning, I felt like James Bond.  Admittedly, Bond would have been behind the wheel himself. He'd be surrounded by a fleet of water-skiing Russians and under a barrage of machine gun fire. He'd be brandishing a weapon too, making quips to an imaginary audience each time he successfully shot an enemy. In truth, I differed from Ian Fleming's creation in every way, except for being on a speedboat. Still, one out of four wasn't bad.  It certainly was the best way to leave Venice. Actually, it's one of the only ways you can. This didn't matter. I was pleased to be leaving the water-locked city in style.  I felt like a Bullseye contestant on their maiden voyage, with a Bendy Bully in one hand and a wad of freshly-counted cash in their back pocket; like a spaniel with his head out of the window of a speeding car, ears and tongue flapping in the breeze; like Prince Char...

Watching tonight’s episode of the BBC1 game show Pointless led me to mull over a question I’ve been pondering for ages: why does the studio audience always clap and cheer when Alexander Armstrong reads out the jackpot?  Surely no-one finds big digits that exciting. I've never cheered spontaneously after giving out my phone number. If I’m honest, I know the answer: it’s because the floor manager tells them to. It’s supposed to add a little tension to proceedings. Being aware of this doesn’t make it any less irritating; once you notice it, it quickly starts to grate. It’s not like everybody in the audience has a vested interest; they can’t all be related to the contestants. I could understand it if the prize was evenly divvied out. They’re also not actually applauding anything. It’s not as if the money is sitting somewhere, waiting to be collected. The sum total only exists from the moment somebody wins it. Richard Osman hasn’t got a...

I often watch reruns of Bullseye on Challenge - and it will no doubt offer an insight into my pessimistic nature, if I tell what I think when they cut to the studio audience. The crowd is always awash with the elderly. When the camera swings around to reveal a sea of geriatric faces, I think to myself of how they must now be long dead. Maybe I’m being overly presumptuous. The odds are certainly stacked in my favour. The show originally aired between 1981-1995; anyone in their twilight years during that fourteen year period will almost certainly have gone to that great big game show in the sky. In a way, these repeats stand as a small tribute. One thing's for certain: I bet that everyone concerned had a lovely day.