mostly david ephgrave

The big news is I'm taking a show to Edinburgh this year, and I'm trying to get as much of the admin sorted as swiftly as possible so I can clear time to write it. As it stands, I'm creaking toward that kicking-off point. The show will be about my dad (the one slated for 2020 until Covid hit and put paid to that), and I'm excited and apprehensive about the task ahead. There's so much I want to get across - as my pages of scribbled notes already testify - but primarily, I want to capture my dad's character so that the audience leaves the room feeling like they just met him, which is no mean feat. And I want to tackle what's it like to lose a loved one without forgetting that the show's a comedy (which, as far as challenges go, is worthy of fully spandexed Anneka Rice). What's helped so far is the groundwork I did in 2020. For example, I already had a blurb that just needed tightening up. And I've also got a lot of material about him already, which...

Today I changed the ink pad in the Mostly Comedy hand-stamp for the first time in eleven years; it's fair to say we got our money's worth. Stampy-wampy, catchy-monkey. If I could be bothered, I'd dig out some graph paper and work out a rough tally of how many hands it's stamped, although it wouldn't take into account people who snuck in without being branded, of course. It's probably best I don't anyway as it would be a dull endeavour, although I'm sure the grand total's still impressive. That stamp has travelled from venue to venue and somehow managed to stay intact. You could even say it's a little iconic on a local level at least. When I wasn't replenishing my ink stocks - euphemism - I was prepping equipment for tomorrow's show to make life easier on the day. Our get-in is super-tight so the more ready we are, the easier it will all be. It's another busy one too with 200 or so people coming, so it's good to not ...

Today, Glyn and I visited a museum in London where we’re likely to be hosting a one-off Mostly Comedy in June (as if we don’t enough Mostly Comedys to contend with in the near future). When you’re approached to run a club by a venue that doesn’t usually stage theatrical events you can never be quite sure if they’ve considered fully how you need a focused space. This was even a problem at one of Mostly’s past long-term homes; this particular venue was managed by two people, one of whom was 100% onboard with our requirements, while I suspect the other had pictured it more like a musical open mic night with someone strumming away on a guitar in the corner while the audience drank and chatted away. That kind of set-up is bad enough when you’re playing music - I’ve done enough gigs like that myself, believe me - but it's disastrous for comedy, which requires complete attention to work; you can’t build a story with people coming and going, both literally and...

I did a short spot at an open mic gig in Finsbury Park tonight, which is becoming a habit; primarily as it's so near to home.  There was a real sense of luxury when I came out of the gig and it was only half eight. This makes me wonder why on earth I put myself through something if I'm that pleased by the realisation that I'll get home early; is this normal? Does everyone get that excited at the thought of finishing whatever they've set out to do? I know many people see work as a means-to-an-end and aren't defined by their job, but isn't performing meant to be different? You certainly don't do it for the money (unless you were one of the central cast of Friends or Frasier, when I imagine the massive episodic fee was a pleasant by-product).  That's not to say that I didn't enjoy tonight; it's a nice little gig, and was useful as a chance to try out a couple of stories I haven't told in public before - but ...

One thing I hate, but seem to spend much of my life doing, is self-promoting. Today’s a case in point. I’ve only been home from my holiday for a few hours, yet the time's been devoted to spreading the word about next week’s Leicester Square Theatre gig , both to agents and our Mostly Comedy mailing list. If you scan your eyes over the last sentence, you’ll see I never miss a trick, as I’ve included a booking link within it. If you hold the internet-enabled device you’re reading this blogpost on up to the light, you’ll see a sneaky watermark of my face mouthing the words ‘COME AND SEE ME NEXT TUESDAY’. Don’t ask me how I did it, as I haven’t thought the mechanics through. Despite being a self-advertising monstrosity, I feel desperately uncomfortable with it. I hate the idea that people think I’m always doing it, or that I only get in contact when I want something. Facebook's a good example: I left the social media platform a couple of years ago because I didn’t like...

I just did a some close-to-the-wire ordering of posters and flyers for the dates I’m doing at Leicester SquareTheatre next month , to make the most of a 25% discount; I’m a sucker for a bargain. I took a bit of a calculated risk by forgoing waiting for authorization of a proof from the venue before sending it to be printed, so I wouldn’t miss out on the weekend-only deal and have to pay full price. Hopefully, this shouldn’t be a problem, as I used the right logos, kept within the specifications, and didn’t use the c-word on the artwork once; I’ll keep my fingers crossed this doesn’t lead to a massive controversy resulting me being banned from performing in London / “waitressing in Torquay” again; if it does, I’ll have to revert to my back-up job of trundle wheel adjudicator; no-one recognises a metre circumference quicker than me. Once again, I was lucky to enlist the services of my artwork designing genius double-act-partner Glyn, who made the few...

I was a bit frustrated with how tonight's gig turned out.  My wife, who was there, assured me it was good, but I was unconvinced. It's the first time I've done my solo show since returning from Edinburgh, and my first gig (I had two others booked in, but one was cancelled due to a poor turnout and the other I cancelled myself), but despite having felt pretty good about it when I've been running it in the week, tonight just didn't gel. It didn't help that I had to take a lot of the tech with me. I managed to streamline things down to two suitcases, a bag and the projector stand between the two of us, but it was still too much. I got a bit stressed during the set-up and didn't settle out of that mindset. There were a decent number of people in - far more than I'd expected - but everyone was sat too far from the front, which added to the sense of detachment, and I felt like I was fighting for attention. I also wasn't happy with how things sounded, but...

I took a bullet for another comedian at last night’s late gig. I was booked to do a set at the Cow Café at the Underbelly on a mixed bill that started just after midnight; exactly twelve hours before my next show. I was a little reticent about doing it, as it was late, and I’d not had the best day. I felt a little brain-exploded and anxious, due to over-tiredness, and didn’t want to do anything that would contribute to this and stoke it; something told me that the environment I was set to enter would do exactly that. Thankfully, watching Ashley Haden’s excellently vitriolic debut solo show ‘We Are AllCunts’ before the gig helped blow the cobwebs out of my head and re-evaluate. It took me a while to find the venue, The Crags Bar, as it’s a bit of a way out; I knew the name of the pub through staying in thw Newington side of town a few times with Glyn, but pictured it being closer to the Meadow Bar than it was. I found the venue with a few minutes t...

There was a point during tonight's Mostly Comedy when I turned to Glyn, who was sitting behind me and said - in reference to the club as a whole - "How on Earth did this happen?" I didn't mean it in a literal sense; I knew how the gig took place on a nuts and bolts level. It was more a question of what fortuitous chain of events resulted in the club growing to the size and status it has in a relatively short space of time.  When you look back on its story as a whole, and our various leaps and punts along the way, it's really quite extraordinary. We met a handful of acts very early on who've all gone on to great things, which helped us secure bigger and better line-ups. We've played host to a number of stars who are currently in their ascendancy, along with a fair few old favourites. When you consider that our first show was mainly made up of school and drama school friends on the bill, the logistics just don't tally. We shouldn't have such a vast...

After over twenty years in my possession, I have to face facts: my guitar amp has been lost or stolen.  Me and my Marshall Valvestate had a good innings. We'd been through a lot, from my earliest rhythm & lead guitar fumblings, to various incarnations of Big Day Out and beyond. It was my rehearsal companion, my vocal P.A. at small-scale gigs and - most recently - my piano stool when I didn't own a piano stool. It was also a cumbersome pain in the arse. We lost contact for a while, after I left it at a friend's house in Hove following a gig in Bognor...but we eventually had a tearful reunion. I then used it at a couple of previews of last year's stand-up show and left it at the venue because we had another date in the diary (which was eventually cancelled). I kept meaning to pick it up, didn't get around to it, and now it's vanished without a trace. Fuck it.  It's not the venue's fault; it's mine. I should have gone to get it sooner. The staff w...

I confused a Norwegian city with a new town in Hertfordshire today, with embarrassing results. It was in the midst of a chain of emails between a comedian's assistant and me that my idiotic mistake took place. I was trying to plug a gap in a forthcoming Mostly Comedy line-up when, within minutes of suggesting the date, I got the response they weren't available, as they were gigging in Stevenage that night. “That’s strange,” I thought, "as I've got tickets to see them in Stevenage the following month. Perhaps the assistant's got their dates mixed up.” (I think in full sentences.) I checked the venue’s website to see if an extra show had been added, and it hadn’t. This left me in a quandary: should I just leave it at that, or find a gentle way to suggest they may have made a mistake? You can guess which option I went with. I tried to make out the error was mine, without realising I’d made a different gaffe...

Frustratingly, I’ve had to pull out of a gig I was doing in Winchester tomorrow night, due to an evil engineering work / rail replacement bus service situation on the line back to London. This is annoying on three counts: firstly, I could do with the stage time so I can cement some new material; secondly, I don’t like to be unreliable; thirdly – and most importantly – I was looking forward to exorcising the demons of my last visit to the city, back in 2004, when I slipped a disc in my back whilst doing a one-man Chinese Dragon dance. My oriental undulations had a point. They weren’t just for recreation. I was rehearsing for a pantomime at the Theatre Royal Winchester at the time, and was loving every minute until my spine threw a spanner in the works; so much so that for a while I fooled myself into thinking I could still do the show, despite the fact I could barely walk, let alone give anything approaching a performance. If only I'd had more e...

Tonight's gig was a world of difference from last night's, as often seems to be the case when I've recently had a bad one.  The room was small and sparsely populated (mostly with other comics); so much so that we took a straw poll just prior to 'kick-off' (football parlance) and nearly decided not to go ahead. Though I wanted to do it, to put to bed the previous night's teeth-pulling open mic experience, I'm easily swayed; another way of putting it is 'lazy'. If there's a chance of bowing out, I'm the first to bend over, so to speak.  I'm glad we did it in the end. Everyone was friendly and easy-going, and the acts were great. It had none of the oppressive undercurrent of last night's OpenMicGate. In many ways, it helped that the room was small and brightly lit, as it forced us all to be a part of it. It was essentially an informal chat over a P.A. system. I didn't see a single stern face either, which was a blessed ...

Today's been a day of juggling admin (as in ‘switching jobs’, not ‘stocking up on balls’). First thing's first, I sent off my application for next year’s Brighton Fringe Festival. I’d been feeling edgy about this since registration opened on Monday, which is ridiculous, considering how late I got in this year, but I didn’t want a repeat of my recent Leicester Debacle , which meant I won't be taking part in their festival next February. It's a relief to get my form in early, as it's good to chalk another task off the list. All I've got left now is the small matter of writing the show, but there’s nothing like a deadline to focus the mind. (Not that I’ve been accepted yet. Word may have spread.) I also continued emailing acts in an attempt to pull together some equally exciting line-ups for Mostly in the New Year as those we’ve been having of late. This is no mean feat, in and of itself, as the standard has been high (...

I’m purposely keeping my approach to the open spot I’m doing in London tomorrow a little loose, as a social experiment. This seemed to stand me in good stead for my short solo set at last Thursday’s Mostly Comedy. The fact it was such a tiny fraction of the evening, and Glyn and I had already been on to a good response, meant it wasn’t important; as a result, I did a better job. If I can sit back on the material a bit, as I do when I’m performing my hour-long show, I might enjoy it more and get a more enthusiastic response. Ultimately, the point of me taking open spots is to try stuff out. It’s not about getting stage experience, other than in the sense that I’ve done less stand-up on my own. I may as well play with what I do, in hope of improvement. It’s better to take risks and fail, if it helps me find new ways to succeed. (I sound like an internet meme.) The strangest aspect to performing stand-up on my own, particularly when th...

I don’t know what to do with myself when there's no Mostly Comedy to repeatedly check ticket sales for. It’s the first thing I do when I switch on my computer. Then I do it again…and again. If I’m walking down the street, I’ll check it on my phone. It’s a habit I can’t get out of. I think I’m obsessed. It’s not about making money; if we set the club up with that as our motivation, we went into the wrong business. I just want to see that it does well. It’s a mixture of pride and compulsion: I can’t get the Mostly Comedy ticket-selling-monkey off my back. If anything, I should be pleased to have a break. Our next date is in September with Stewart Lee, which sold out in four hours back in June. Before long, we’ll turn our minds to finalising our Autumn / Winter line-ups and then put them on sale. I’ll have another list of gigs to fixate about then. At least it stops me from constantly flicking all my light switches on and off. There are wo...

I’ve spent the afternoon editing together an audio clip of me performing stand-up, to send off to a comedy competition. This was a useful exercise, considering my recent doubts about my ability. In doing it, I was forced to watch a number of videos of my gigs, to work out what to send. While some of it made me cringe, a lot didn’t – and what shocked me most was there were laughs . ...quite a lot of them, in fact. Far more than I remembered. For some reason (*cough* Chortle review *cough*) I’ve convinced myself that there weren’t. It’s surprising how much you can reinvent something in your head, from a distance. That’s why recording my stand-up sets can be invaluable. It gives me the chance to experience them from the outside looking in, rather than the inside looking out. One thing I noticed was that the bits that came across the best had more attack. This was probably because they were in a club - and not a show – setting. It made me think that I’ve have been sitting ba...

Today, in a change to the usual theme, I've managed to fit time for relaxation around my work.  I caught the bus to Stotfold this morning, to walk my mum's dog. I do this once a week, when I'm available. I meditated on the bus, which helped me to start the day on a calmer note. I arrived at my mum's house to find Barley (the dog) staring through the front window. When he spotted me, he couldn't conceal his excitement. He was all over me when I opened the door. He's a contender for the Friendliest Dog on the Planet.  We took our usual route around the village, meeting a doting woman (over Barley, not me) and some cats along the way. We then walked around the circumference of the park before going home, where he sat at my feet while I made a sandwich, like the faithful hound that he is.   On the bus back to Hitchin I sent a few emails, trying to chase a line-up for our forthcoming Mostly Comedy Summer Special. It's proving a challenge. Booking acts...

For the first time in seven years, I haven't written a press release for Mostly Comedy.  I've always made the local press deadlines every month, but this month I've had other things on my mind. My solo show became my priority. That said, I would have put some promotional material together if it had been strictly necessary, but it was less 'pressing' as we were already sold out.  (There I go again with my 'first thought jokes'; *cough* Brighton review *cough*.) Despite it being less important than usual, I'm still frustrated that I haven't done it. I'm a completest, so these things make me tetchy. It's also good to spread the word about such a great line-up (*cough* Sara Pascoe and Aisling Bea *cough*). It's good status for the club. But it's still out there, without us having to encourage it along. That's why people booked in the first place.  (...starting sentences with 'that' and 'but', David? Has...