A nice little gig last night down at The Fortescue, Plymouth. Brilliantly run by my comedy chums from the Plymouth Comedy Avengers, this is a must for any keen audience looking for some up and coming stand up to watch. The night itself had added style in the drunken poetic ramblings of an audience member called Ed who decided to "have a go" on stage. From what I could make out the poem was about female flatulence and following his debut he then failed at obtaining alcohol through lack of ID and disappeared into the night leaving his worried carer behind. The line up tonight was great. MC was Richard James who was again on top form and improves every time I see him, Tom Lucy is annoyingly young whilst being annoyingly good at the same time, new comic Freya Beavis is finding her comedic stride and of course Tom Glover is simply a sublime masterclass of how to connect with an audience. And me? I think I went down alright. I also had what I think has been my biggest complement to date. A woman came up to me after the gig and said, "I want you to know. I own several cats. However, I agreed with everything you said.". High praise indeed. |
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My brain hurts...
As you know I am new to this comedy game and one of the hardest parts now is the writing. I find myself in turmoil permanently writing and re-writing stuff. Is it funny? Will other people find it funny? I end up writing the same 20 second section over and over again like a scene from The Shining. You find yourself analysing yourself and everything that happens during the day. Can that be made funny? Would it be alright to say that? But even then once it's written, I mean once it's finally on page, the next step is to take that huge leap from performing material you know that works to a new bunch of words that have made you giggle in your front room with only Eastenders for company. To be honest, I don't know what I am saying here except I now have massive respect for the comedians who spend a year preparing for their next show. I need to take the plunge more often. Try more of my new stuff. If I die then I die. As the old saying goes... "He who has not tried has already failed whereas he who has failed but not tried has tried to fail. But if you try to fail then surely you failed to try" But then again I could be talking bollocks. So the next gig is Sunday, down at The Nowhere Inn, Plymouth. It's run by one of the nicest yet darkest people on the South West comedy circuit, Tom Latimer. Tom has the ability to say what everyone is thinking but to scared to say. He is a reactionist and shit me does he get audience reaction. I always look forward to seeing him perform as no subject is off bounds and there is always the chance that the night will end in a fight.
For me Sunday is a new set. It's been road tested once but is uncharted water. Like a first date it will end either on a high (the equivalent of her going halves on the bill and then inviting you back to her place for a "coffee") or disaster (you have a reaction to the food, you pay bill and then on the way home she tells you how much you remind her of her brother). However it goes, Sunday is going to be an interesting night. Following the atrocities in Paris last week, I stumbled on the above article. WT-Ginger-F? Is this shit for real? I can't make my mind up as to whether this whole article is tongue in cheek or whether the right wing are losing their pretty little minds to mass hysteria. By all accounts this story has reached the journalistic heights of the Daily Mail so it is only a matter of time before my parents come knocking at my door to tell me that I am terrorist scum and then sit down to do the sudoku. Am I now a terrorist? Am I now condemned to being watched as I cross the street? What if somebody decides I look suspicious and takes matters into their own hands? "But you honour. I ran him over as he looked like a ginger fundamentalist. From the way he crossed the road the sausage roll he was carrying looked like a detonator." That will teach me not to shave my beard. Apparently us redheads are the near majority in the fundamentalist ranks. Well that's arse. Surely any terrorist training would occur in the Middle East where the sun shines for 10 hours a day, and the temperature hits the mid 30's. Well that's ideal weather for anybody with red hair. Any ginger wouldn't have time to train as they would be continually applying factor 60. So if you see a ginger on the street will you treat them with the contempt that you always had or will there be a small element of fear from what you have read.
You have been warned. A nice gig last night in Winchester. What a smart little venue. Good old Hilary Fox worked her little socks off to push the gig and ball is now most definitely rolling. Check out the future events at Late Train Comedy.
As always I find myself in awe at the level of comedian for non-paid events. To be honest, I wish I didn't. I wish I could sit back with my feet up and say, "I was the best. My material was perfect. I delivered it perfectly" but that is never the case. I'll end up doing a gig that flies and of course I'll soar on the back of that, but then by the time I do the next gig I realise how far I need to go just to keep up with my peers and come crashing back to Earth. Don't get me wrong last night was a good gig. The crowd were great. The atmosphere was there. But I know I can do better. Maybe I just have a crap habit of comparing myself with everybody else when I shouldn't. But I would be a fool not to try and compare myself with last nights line up. A month off is a month off too long I think. Lesson learned. Move on you ginger wanker. Don't be such a lazy twat. Well reading this post back it seems to be more therapy chair than comedy chair. Pretty dull... "Sultana extremists. They do not speak for all muselis" Well here we go. First gig in the 2015 comedy saddle. It's been a month but I'm not rusty, just ginger.
Screw it. I have been umming and arring for a week now as to whether or not I should go properly live with a website and whether or not it makes me look a bit of a pretentious twat. Well if I don't do it then I'm never gonna know. Yours truly, pretentious twat.
Winchester you should check this gig out. Now run by the fantastic Hilary Fox this new monthly gig is gonna kick arse. January's line up is simply beautiful. Let's face it. Its either this or smegging Downton Abbey.
I had just got used to archaic internet speeds when BT go and bloody pull their finger out and launch our family into the 21st century. At least now I can ignore my wife and kids on several devices at once.
So here we are. 2015. And here I am. Typing shit on a computer like it is some sort of therapist. Like it will ease and appease me. I don't know what I am doing or why I am doing it. Maybe somebody will read my shit, maybe they won't. Maybe I will continue to type to a similar crowd as a Gary Glitter comeback gig.
Who cares? The writer writes for himself and not for you. |
Mat Costin
Apparently I'm funny to some people. Archives
July 2015
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