Tonight I did a
very strange gig. A very very strange gig.
When you’re a
comic at my level who’s working up new material, it's a struggle to get
stage time. This can be frustrating, particularly when you’re also a promoter who
spends your whole life (exaggeration) offering other people gigs, yet seldom
get your offers reciprocated.
(This sounds sexier
than it is.)
As a result, you
hunt far and wide for somewhere – anywhere
– to try stuff out, in a room that’s at least halfway toward being conducive
for comedy. It's a depressing experience, when you realise just how few
small-scale venues are actually equipped for this.
It wasn’t that
the venue I played tonight was awful – the room was pleasant and the person who
ran it meant well – but everything about it was unclear. When I arrived at
6:00pm (admittedly an hour before the show was meant to start), the club was
closed with no sign of life. I sought solace in a lovely record shop-cum-café
around the corner, before returning to the club at 6:50pm, only ten minutes
before I’d been called.
“I’m here for the
comedy gig,” I said to the guy behind the bar on arrival.
“You’re early,” he replied.
“What time does
it start then?”
“7 for 7:30.”
(So just ten
minutes early then.)
In the end, the room was full of other comics, who soldiered on, despite the haphazard nature of
the event, and the fact there was only one genuine punter, who kept leaving the
room every few minutes. We a;; did our best to get what we needed from it. I met
some nice people and saw some good stuff, I just wish it had been in better
circumstances. You don’t get this at Mostly Comedy.