COLDNESS ENGULFS ME...
...for reasons I will explain in good time, but in the meantime hello.
What an interesting few days!
On Thursday I went to the gig my housemate Chris runs in Crewe and did 10-15 minutes of brand spanking new material for my one-man show... and it all worked! I had a lovely time and it filled me with joy because;
i) It's always nice when a gig goes well
ii) I've been feeling really down about how i'm struggling to write of late, so to do some new stuff and have it go down well feels a bit like finding my mojo again (i've not lost it, it was here, in my pocket, all along)
iii) None of the new material was blue or rude. It's not that I have any issue with naughty jokes (in fact my set is quite "scatalogically cerebral" as one reviewer put it, which I interpret as meaning that I tell knob gags, but clever ones - either that or I have really intelligent poo), it's just that a large chunk of my set is sex based and I want more material that I know is funny (i.e. it will make a bunch of stag parties laugh on a wet weekend in Barnsley) but that I could do in front of more reserved crowds without seeming like some brutish ogre. Maybe I'm going soft. I don't know, but that meant something to me somehow. Basically, I have no issue with rudeness in humour, but it was nice to remind myself I don't rely on it to get laughs.
I then did a very nice gig at a hotel in Daventry on Friday. I thought it was going to be a nightmare as the organisers had set the gig up, let about 200 punters in and then buggered off. The "show must go on" spirit prevailed however and the other comics and I teamed up to sort out lights/sound/music etc, and a cracking gig was had by all. The drive back was fraught with fog and blizzard based danger, but I got back in one piece.
Saturday was was a little odder. After having had no confirmation from the promoter for my gig in the evening, I rang him to find that I was double booked and that the other comic had already confirmed. In short, I was out of a job. Grrrr.
Getting over that annoyance, I went to the comedy improv workshops that Bron runs on Saturdays (she is the real talent and brains of the house and the sooner the rest of us realise, the better) only to return home and find that the electricity had gone off. We managed to get the lights working, but the plug sockets and the boiler (which is wired into the mains) were having none of it. The house was like a meat locker, so as Bron and Chris nestled on the sofa in a blanket for a very quiet evening in indeed, I accompanied Dug to a party at the house of Ros, who works at XS Malarkey, a nearby comedy club.
The party was fun, but I can honestly say that Ros' city centre apartment, with its cosmopolitan vistas, beamed celings, stylish fittings and working electricity, led me to the the sharp realisation of what an utter sh*thole I live in. I honestly cannot fathom why I live in such squalor.
Oh, wait a minute, it's cheap. That's the reason. Well, the real reason anyway. I have another, grander reason, something to do with me being a artist (because artists are meant to live in squalor, at first at least), but that's just me being a ponce.
Anyway, I had a good time, and spent much of the evening cradling Danny Deegan, another comedian I know, in my huge hairy arms. As he curled up foetally and purred with primeval contentment, I was reminded that sometimes all a man needs is to have another man hold him and tell him everything will be ok.*
Dug and I stumbled back into the flat at about 7-30 in the morning on Sunday, bleary eyed and freezing. The day was largely a write off, though notable for the excellent curry Chris made for us all to use up the now defrosted chicken that was in the now useless freezer.
The electrician came this morning, and has managed to get the heating on again (my hero) and make a few sockets work but will need to come back on Wednesday to finish the job, which apparently may involve tearing up floorboards to get to the necessary wiring. Oh joy. I swear this flat was built by the lowest bidder.
Oh well, off I go for now. The freezer is defrosting and apparently it is all my fault. As usual. Sigh....
* Man Hugs provided at reasonable rates, no questions asked. E-mail for details.
What an interesting few days!
On Thursday I went to the gig my housemate Chris runs in Crewe and did 10-15 minutes of brand spanking new material for my one-man show... and it all worked! I had a lovely time and it filled me with joy because;
i) It's always nice when a gig goes well
ii) I've been feeling really down about how i'm struggling to write of late, so to do some new stuff and have it go down well feels a bit like finding my mojo again (i've not lost it, it was here, in my pocket, all along)
iii) None of the new material was blue or rude. It's not that I have any issue with naughty jokes (in fact my set is quite "scatalogically cerebral" as one reviewer put it, which I interpret as meaning that I tell knob gags, but clever ones - either that or I have really intelligent poo), it's just that a large chunk of my set is sex based and I want more material that I know is funny (i.e. it will make a bunch of stag parties laugh on a wet weekend in Barnsley) but that I could do in front of more reserved crowds without seeming like some brutish ogre. Maybe I'm going soft. I don't know, but that meant something to me somehow. Basically, I have no issue with rudeness in humour, but it was nice to remind myself I don't rely on it to get laughs.
I then did a very nice gig at a hotel in Daventry on Friday. I thought it was going to be a nightmare as the organisers had set the gig up, let about 200 punters in and then buggered off. The "show must go on" spirit prevailed however and the other comics and I teamed up to sort out lights/sound/music etc, and a cracking gig was had by all. The drive back was fraught with fog and blizzard based danger, but I got back in one piece.
Saturday was was a little odder. After having had no confirmation from the promoter for my gig in the evening, I rang him to find that I was double booked and that the other comic had already confirmed. In short, I was out of a job. Grrrr.
Getting over that annoyance, I went to the comedy improv workshops that Bron runs on Saturdays (she is the real talent and brains of the house and the sooner the rest of us realise, the better) only to return home and find that the electricity had gone off. We managed to get the lights working, but the plug sockets and the boiler (which is wired into the mains) were having none of it. The house was like a meat locker, so as Bron and Chris nestled on the sofa in a blanket for a very quiet evening in indeed, I accompanied Dug to a party at the house of Ros, who works at XS Malarkey, a nearby comedy club.
The party was fun, but I can honestly say that Ros' city centre apartment, with its cosmopolitan vistas, beamed celings, stylish fittings and working electricity, led me to the the sharp realisation of what an utter sh*thole I live in. I honestly cannot fathom why I live in such squalor.
Oh, wait a minute, it's cheap. That's the reason. Well, the real reason anyway. I have another, grander reason, something to do with me being a artist (because artists are meant to live in squalor, at first at least), but that's just me being a ponce.
Anyway, I had a good time, and spent much of the evening cradling Danny Deegan, another comedian I know, in my huge hairy arms. As he curled up foetally and purred with primeval contentment, I was reminded that sometimes all a man needs is to have another man hold him and tell him everything will be ok.*
Dug and I stumbled back into the flat at about 7-30 in the morning on Sunday, bleary eyed and freezing. The day was largely a write off, though notable for the excellent curry Chris made for us all to use up the now defrosted chicken that was in the now useless freezer.
The electrician came this morning, and has managed to get the heating on again (my hero) and make a few sockets work but will need to come back on Wednesday to finish the job, which apparently may involve tearing up floorboards to get to the necessary wiring. Oh joy. I swear this flat was built by the lowest bidder.
Oh well, off I go for now. The freezer is defrosting and apparently it is all my fault. As usual. Sigh....
* Man Hugs provided at reasonable rates, no questions asked. E-mail for details.
posted by Ben Schofield at 4:04 PM
1 Comments:
I'm not going through the freezer thing again! I just didnt' expect to walk in from work and have to clean up a load of water... DOOFUS!
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