mostly david ephgrave

The internet sometimes conspires to make you feel like an outsider. This is particularly the case if you opt out of the horrendous social media conventions we’re all expected to be a part of. Facebook’s the big ugly one for me; I joined it a few years after it started, largely to help promote mine and Glyn’s first Edinburgh run in 2008. Once on it, I’d use it both as a chance to try out jokes (as that’s always been my way) and to keep in touch with friends - though before long, my friend list stretched far further than just the people I was close to, to people I’d only just met; it turned new friendships into acquisitions with a Pokémon “Gotta Catch ‘Em All” aftertaste. A few years later, I deactivated my account because it felt unhealthy. Every so often, I restart it, but each time I do, it makes me feel more out of step, and if the algorithms don’t add up and my posts are missed, I wind up feeling lonely too; so much for bring people together. ...

I sometimes feel I’m on the outside of the group, largely thanks to social media. It’s probably paranoia, but I often worry people don’t like me, or think I’m self-promoting, detached or arrogant. I suspect I irritate those I know with too many jokes, or by trying to chase up an audience for my shows. Yet again, Facebook is the biggest negative influence, with me regularly feeling like I’m shouting into the darkness to disinterest. This suspicion also translates to my work, particularly with comedy. I regularly offer gigs, but seldom get any back. I’ll actively mention I’m on the hunt for spots and previews on Facebook and Twitter, in the hope that this might result in an act I know returning the favour, largely to silence - but when someone else does the same thing, or shares what they're up to, the Like Brigade come out in force. I know I’ve probably got the wrong end of the stick. There’s little point in worrying about what’s happening on Facebook anyway, as it i...

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...

A while ago, I heard Paul McCartney describe the lyric "everybody else is busy doing better than me" from his recent song 'Alligator' in an interview as being a comment on how he'll often look at how his work is perceived in comparison to others and be frustrated by it. I find this incredibly comforting. If a man who's achieved so much can look at his work and find it wanting, then we're allowed to do it too. It's a part of human nature, magnified by our current Facebook-and-Twitter culture. Everywhere we look, we're confronted by people presenting happier, more contented lives through their social media press releases; smearing Vaseline over the lens before they make their public broadcast. There's someone busy doing better than you, just a mouse-click away.  I wish I could remove myself from this unnecessary comparison and jealously, and see it for what it is: a falsity. But though I'm aware of all of it, I still do it. It's instinc...

I have a bit of a love / hate relationship with Facebook: I love to hate it. Despite writing a daily blog and tweeting incessantly, it might surprise people to learn that I’m actually very private. I’ll use social media as an excuse to work up ideas and force a little creativity – but when it comes to Facebook, I’ll keep myself to myself. I joined it reluctantly, on the eve of mine and Glyn ’s first Edinburgh Festival. Doggett & Ephgrave had been ‘trading’ for a couple of years with us making little money from it (some things never change). All of a sudden we needed to find somewhere in the region of £8,000 - £10,000 to fund our trip to Scotland; a number of fund-raising events were hastily organized, and Facebook seemed the best (and cheapest) way to promote them. I sometimes worry that the way I use Facebook gets on people’s nerves; you may not want to be constantly confronted by things I find amusing, or information about our latest...