mostly david ephgrave

I'm grateful for the little light that came on today, metaphorically speaking*, while playing a few old songs on my acoustic. It was like a gap in my DNA was filled** to complete me. I felt comfortable despite being out of practice, and for once, I didn't question what I was doing; it just felt right. I had a brief moment of clarity that wasn't undercut by my mood or sense of self-worth. If I can tap into this, it might give me the impetus to start something new. It probably helps that I've been revisiting the songs from my 2018 standup show, 'David Ephgrave: My Part in His Downfall', by posting video clips of them on social media as a placeholder until I start my next project (whatever that is). In truth, it's hard to know where to begin with that. The combination of Mostly Comedy's closure after so much difficulty and my long, drawn-out route back to the Fringe has left me burnt out emotionally, creatively and financially, and I need a chance to regrou...

I've got to break through the fug of my current mindset to get my comedy-writing mojo back. My ideas pad (mostly full of bus times and general admin). It's hard to find the energy or will to write at the best of times when procrastination looms & lurks like a loom-lurker, without the current circumstances ramping my lethargy up a gear. It's not that my sense of humour's gone, though I now need dowsing rods to detect a joke. And even when I find one, my bastardly depressive mind kicks in to scupper it: "What's the point, David? No-one will pay you for this." When Glyn and I started renting an office six years ago , I'd get into the routine of going down there first-thing to work. But before long, I'd be swamped with admin of running a comedy club without the joy of something creatively worthwhile to offset it; at least when I was writing a show I had a place to run it - albeit a tiny one - though, in time it became another isolatio...

I kind of feel I've reached the limit of what I can do by myself creatively without someone else to believe in me. It might just be the gloom of the New Year without the impetus of something to sink my teeth into (cliché), or it may be a genuine reflection of where I'm at, but I'm just not feeling excited about what's ahead. I've worked so hard over the past four years, with my 2018 Edinburgh show 'David Ephgrave: My Part in His Downfall' ending up something I'm very proud of, and yet I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. Mostly Comedy has become something of a compulsion with me checking our emails and the ticket reports far too regularly, but despite the frequency I tinker with things to do with it, I've started to resent it. To be honest, it's been a love / hate relationship for years, but as it stands I've started to dread the shows as they've become an exercise in organisation I'm bored with in an atmosphere whe...

There’s something comforting about watching a programme or reading an article on a subject you know a lot about. Personally, I’m referring to The Beatles in this instance. I’ve just got home from the office, to switch on the TV and catch up on ‘The Nation’s Favourite Beatles No. 1’: a documentary that aired last Christmas, as a shameless promotional tie-in to 'The Beatles 1+’ (the DVD accompaniment to their singles collection, ‘1’). It’s a well-known fact among my friends - and to anyone who’s paid close enough attention to Glyn's and my radio show and / or stand-up - that I’m a bit of a Beatles nut. My brain is addled with Fab Four trivia. I became interested in them while at junior school, when I pulled out my mum’s Sgt Pepper LP to play 'When I’m Sixty-Four' to my elderly babysitter, because I assumed it might be her sort of thing, without realising that I was a couple of generations out. Listening to that album ignited a fascina...

My mood has been affected today by the sad news that Paul Daniels isn't well. He’s a hero of mine and one of the biggest influences in my choice of career. I may not have ended up a magician, but my fascination with magic enabled me to take my first steps toward being a performer, taking in music, acting and comedy along the way. I was obsessed with him as a child, and would tune into his magic show every week. Then, last November, he performed at Glyn’s and my comedy club; stepping from childhood fantasy into reality, shaking my hand as I welcomed him on stage. Everything about the gig was perfect; Paul and Debbie were charming, both on-stage and off. Before he went on, he asked me to set his props, which felt like a privilege. His performance was a master-class from someone who was still as sharp as a pin and at the top of his game. Everyone watching knew it; people fought to sit at the front or be pulled up on stage. It was a wonderful, unforgettabl...

I’ve lost my impetus for writing over the last few weeks. This is probably partially a comedown from finishing my Brighton run. I spent months building up to it, and now it’s passed, I’m finding it hard to work up the energy to pick up where I left off. I’m less enthused by my own ideas. The lack of deadline doesn’t help. When you have a reason to write, you step up your game. Without one, you have no need to do it. You sit staring at a blank computer screen, drinking tea and eating biscuits. You wind up fatter, slightly more hydrated and a lot less prolific. Writing a blog every day is a hell of a commitment. I’m proud of myself for keeping it up this long (a year and nine months), and now I’ve got this far, I don’t want to stop. Like everyone though, I need a little mental space. I’d hate it to become a weight around my neck. I still find it very useful. Mine and Glyn’s new radio show is a case in point. Each week, we pick a topic to run as a central theme for the sh...

It would probably come as no surprise to learn that I am a devourer of the classic comedy sitcom. It’s been the case since as early as junior school, when I kept two scrapbooks: one devoted to The Beatles and the other to Blackadder. Any time either a Fab or a ‘Blab’ appeared in a newspaper, the article would be carefully cut out and Pritt-stuck into the appropriate tome – often with my own little handwritten notes alongside it. My first ever gig was pre-assembly at the St. Nicholas JMI school, playing the Blackadder theme on an upright piano as my fellow students filed in. I was obsessed with the dry, sarcastic wit of Rowan Atkinson – and desperately wanted some of it for myself. I managed to convince my junior school friends that the BBC were going to make a series I was writing called 'March! Jenkins' (an idea lovingly ripped from 'Blackadder Goes Forth') – and spend many a lunch break drilling them through scenes from it. I was a megalomaniac e...