Turned out better than I expected...

... on Tuesday night. My gig at Harper Adams College near Stoke, a traditionally quite tough room from what I've heard, was actually quite a good laugh. Which is, y'know, kind of the point and stuff.

I'd heard fearsome things, like how the crowd will take a pint of beer to the stage and then refuse to listen until the comic has downed it in one. Real "dance, monkey boy, dance" stuff. But my only real complaints were as follows;

i) The layout was weird. Loads of seats off to the sides, and then just two big leather sofas in front of the stage, which were occupied by big strapping lads in rugby shirts, one of whom was sporting a very fetching black eye. Not at all intimidating.

ii) In keeping with a lot of college/uni gigs, there was no compere, meaning I hit them completely cold. I did the business anyway though and got them laughing straight away. I'm quite good at this, you know.

iii) They were an odd crowd in that they would piss themselves laughing and even applauded me a few times for some pretty throw-away comments and lines, but then I would get quite muted responses for some of my jokes that are usually big hitters. In the balance of things, it all evened out and I still seemed to be having a good gig, but it did throw me a little.

iv) Harper Adams is an agricultural college. The place was half uni campus, half farm, meaning everything there smelt ever so slightly of straw.

Other than that, it was a fun night and the drive there with the Bronster was cool too, even though we did witness some scally lad break into someone's car and make off with a bag which the owner had left on the seat (not the smartest of moves in this day and age). We left a note on the windshield with our details and then went on our merry way. Bron did eye me in that way that only a woman can when she is about to test your manhood before asking, "Why didn't you chase after that kid?"

I used to do karate and as such people expect me to still be quite handy. I get out of breath, however, walking to the fridge and back. I am quite clearly not the lean, toned fighting machine of my youth but this fact was brushed aside by Bron with an expectant flash of her eyes. I then proceeded to point out to her, with as much subtlety as I could muster, that I have no intention of meeting my fate on the business end of a scally's penknife for the sake of a stranger's property. Besides, even if I had caught and collared him, the little shit would have probably done me for assault.

Anyhoo... In the post has arrived a DVD from the Comedy Store of my gig there last Friday. I watched it. It's good. I rock. I just hope the management at the Store agrees. Fingers crossed.

Not much doing yesterday, except in the evening when, trusty guitar in hand, I recorded a song on my four track and got Bron, who has a sweet folk rock style singing voice among her many assets, to croon on it. It sounds pretty good, you know. What a talented house I live in.

We then went shopping. Not fascinating in of itself, but there is something quite superbly bohemian about doing something as mundane as going round the supermarket, but doing it at midnight.

Off to see a play tonight (get me with the culture) - an amateur production of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (sic?) are Dead", starring some of Bron's former students. I studied that play for A Level English, so it should evoke many a memory of being a tortured, confused teenager. Oh happy days.

Peace. X