mostly david ephgrave

Today, I met my friend Rob in London for one of out not-as-regular-as-we'd like catch-ups. We spent most of the time sat outside the Spice of Life in Soho, where we became bait for beggars (which I think is the name of a Rolling Stones album) and despite responding to everyone who asked for change as politely and apologetically as we could - probably more than most would - we seemed to antagonize them more than if we'd said nothing at all. Their situation's an extreme one, of course, but you do start to get worn down by everyone's rudeness. A particular favourite of mine is being forced to step into a main road because a group of pedestrians won't budge to let you past. This happens so regularly it's practically become the norm and, my God, is it tiring; why can't we just help each other out? As well as avoiding beggars' eyeslines, Rob and I just generally caught up. I asked him if he might be interested in directing my Edinbugh show (provided he can fi...

I'm pleased with how tonight's Comedy Project gig went.  I've mentioned before how I find Soho Theatre Upstairs a difficult venue to play. It's not a comfortable room for comedy. It's hard to maintain attention. Glyn and I have tried everything there from on-book to off-book sitcom readings, stand-up shows, sketch shows and comedy plays. It's never been easy. The only way to keep the audience focused on you is to let off a flare every few minutes - and even then they'd only do it out of fear. The piece which was the best received was Doggett & Ephgrave's Comedy Shorts, which was half an hour's worth of filmed sketches. It's far easier to home in on specific detail on film. The Balloon Debate went well too, despite us being trapped in a 5' square wicker basket for the duration.‎ This morning, I told myself to push all these perceived challenges out of my head and to try to not to over-think it. I'd use it as a chance to tell so...

It must have been a while since my last casting, as the café I usually go into before them today appeared to be a long time closed down. It was very disappointing. I bounded confidently up to the door only to stop in my tracks. The café resembled a building site, with stepladders sprinkled liberally around the premises and light fittings hanging precariously from the ceiling. A sign in the window announced that a new restaurant was imminent. There would be no cup of tea and a Kit Kat for me. I’m surprised that no one in the area seems to have kicked up a fuss. The café was a Soho institution, which, judging from the amount of photos above the till, was proud to boast Colin Jackson as a celebrity client. A sportsman of his calibre would have been the perfect face to front a campaign to keep the place alive. Jackson wasn’t the only famous person to have supped in the Burlington Café. Their Wall of Fame also boasted a grumpy-looking Paul Weller, a nonplussed Louis Walsh and...