A test of my professionalism...
... and a hark back to my amateur dramatics days (luvvie, darling) as the mike at my gig in Barnsley tonight packed in and I was forced to do twenty minutes using only the admitttedly formidable power of my own lungs. Against all odds, to a big room with a hundred or so people in it, I had a good gig.
It's been a while since I had to project my voice, as evidenced by the aching in my torso from an underused diaphragm. Having said that, all of me aches for reasons that will become clear later. Suffice to say my classical training (ahem) won over and I was informed, to my delight and relief, that I could be heard at the back of the room with crystal clarity. I am a true pro, unflappable in the face of such petty setbacks. The show must go on (and all those other showbiz cliches).
Nothing wrong with my ego.
Or my bank balance! Over £600 of the cash owed to me rolled in over the weekend, along with a £400 tax bill. A tad unfortunate, but not-so-easy come, easy go, as my finances seem to work at present. At least my rent was covered.
Quiet weekend just gone, especially so as my gigs on Friday and Saturday were pulled at short notice. I felt like weeping, as if I were watching those little bags of money just fly away...
Still, a good gig last Thursday in Welwyn Garden City, the first night of a new comedy club, which is always a challenge as you are effectively setting the standard, determining whether people come back. There is also the added problem that the crowd may not be used to how a comedy night works and will not know how to "behave". Fortunately the night went swimmingly. I opened the gig with a fun 25 minutes, even having the audacity to start with a joke I'd just thought of, something I would have never dared do not so long back. I think the improv workshops have really helped my confidence in that respect, broadening my capacity to think on my feet.
What was the joke? Oh go on, I'll tell you. Basically, the compere was doing a routine about corporal punishment and asked if anyone had ever received any at school. A woman in the crowd replied with a (frankly horrific) tale of how she once had a teacher put a monkey wrench over her ear and twist it, all because she didn't happen to be very good at maths. I went on and told the woman I felt her pain, because;
"When I was at school, I really struggled with cross country, so the gym teacher... fucked me up the arse. After which I learned to run very very fast indeed!"
Not in the best taste, but it brought the house down.
Ah, you had to be there.
Anyway, a quiet weekend as I said, save for drinks in the Comedy Store on Saturday and accompanying my flatmates to a frankly mental gong show in Middlesbrough on Sunday, where I consumed my own body weight in Guinness and curry and yet didn't spend a penny, due to the profound and appreciated hospitality of the promoter (cheers Pete). Oh happy days.
Anyway, on to the root of my aches and pains... I played five-a-side last night! Some freinds of Chris Tavner needed a couple of extra bodies for a game, so Dug and I headed down to make the numbers up (which is just about all we did). It was much fun and there is the possibility of it becoming a weekly thing, which would be benificial since, when naked, I already have trouble seeing my dick when looking down, due to my ever-expanding barrel-like gut. Not that I spend hours doing such things, but you get the jist.
Today though, I ache as if four or five large men had taken turns over several hours to methodically beat me with large sticks. I swear it even hurts when I blink. Or type.
Owww.
Owww.
Owww Owww Owww.
No, sorry, I can't take it anymore. Catch up soon.
Peace. X
It's been a while since I had to project my voice, as evidenced by the aching in my torso from an underused diaphragm. Having said that, all of me aches for reasons that will become clear later. Suffice to say my classical training (ahem) won over and I was informed, to my delight and relief, that I could be heard at the back of the room with crystal clarity. I am a true pro, unflappable in the face of such petty setbacks. The show must go on (and all those other showbiz cliches).
Nothing wrong with my ego.
Or my bank balance! Over £600 of the cash owed to me rolled in over the weekend, along with a £400 tax bill. A tad unfortunate, but not-so-easy come, easy go, as my finances seem to work at present. At least my rent was covered.
Quiet weekend just gone, especially so as my gigs on Friday and Saturday were pulled at short notice. I felt like weeping, as if I were watching those little bags of money just fly away...
Still, a good gig last Thursday in Welwyn Garden City, the first night of a new comedy club, which is always a challenge as you are effectively setting the standard, determining whether people come back. There is also the added problem that the crowd may not be used to how a comedy night works and will not know how to "behave". Fortunately the night went swimmingly. I opened the gig with a fun 25 minutes, even having the audacity to start with a joke I'd just thought of, something I would have never dared do not so long back. I think the improv workshops have really helped my confidence in that respect, broadening my capacity to think on my feet.
What was the joke? Oh go on, I'll tell you. Basically, the compere was doing a routine about corporal punishment and asked if anyone had ever received any at school. A woman in the crowd replied with a (frankly horrific) tale of how she once had a teacher put a monkey wrench over her ear and twist it, all because she didn't happen to be very good at maths. I went on and told the woman I felt her pain, because;
"When I was at school, I really struggled with cross country, so the gym teacher... fucked me up the arse. After which I learned to run very very fast indeed!"
Not in the best taste, but it brought the house down.
Ah, you had to be there.
Anyway, a quiet weekend as I said, save for drinks in the Comedy Store on Saturday and accompanying my flatmates to a frankly mental gong show in Middlesbrough on Sunday, where I consumed my own body weight in Guinness and curry and yet didn't spend a penny, due to the profound and appreciated hospitality of the promoter (cheers Pete). Oh happy days.
Anyway, on to the root of my aches and pains... I played five-a-side last night! Some freinds of Chris Tavner needed a couple of extra bodies for a game, so Dug and I headed down to make the numbers up (which is just about all we did). It was much fun and there is the possibility of it becoming a weekly thing, which would be benificial since, when naked, I already have trouble seeing my dick when looking down, due to my ever-expanding barrel-like gut. Not that I spend hours doing such things, but you get the jist.
Today though, I ache as if four or five large men had taken turns over several hours to methodically beat me with large sticks. I swear it even hurts when I blink. Or type.
Owww.
Owww.
Owww Owww Owww.
No, sorry, I can't take it anymore. Catch up soon.
Peace. X
posted by Ben Schofield at 1:52 AM
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