…and the day continued.
The Stand 2 is getting a little hot for a cardigan, but I feel there is little choice. I may seek a thinner cardigan on the way past the department store tomorrow.
It was a slightly odd show. Thursday was probably the strongest and that was the first time I had ever done the show in its entirety, or rather, the first time I did it until I had to stop as I had run out of time. Today it had a quieter reception. Perhaps I am concentrating too much on what I think I am meant to say to fit as much of the show in as I can and not enough just performing and showing off. To hell with the written down intentions.
It is the smallest room I have ever played on the Fringe and maybe my lunatic theatrics are a little overbearing (as well as dampening the front row with occasional spittle spray).
I will loosen up tomorrow, I may even add that third poem I have threatened.
Sodden at the end of my show, I met with Michael Legge and we strode like Victorian entomologists through the streets to see Caroline Mabey’s show. It is silly and big and great fun.
Then, there was the mistake.
Having typed mere hours before, “drinking is no longer an option”, the rules of the fringe Choose Your Own adventure game. And as I went to buy Caroline a vodka and Michael a pint, soda water with a piece of lime rind was what was no longer an option.
I had Set List in two hours. I never drink before Set List. You require your wits. A series of odd phrases are, one by one, projected on a screen and the comedian must busk a routine, pretending it is their regular set list, the sort of collection of words they would write on the back of their hand.
I drank a pint of Vegan craft ale, then I had a gin. On reaching the venue, the previous show was overrunning. This was not a good sign because the booze needs to still be swilling near the edges, not be fully absorbed. It can slow you down.
Error number 2, I agreed to go on first. It is at least two years since the last time I did it. First is not good. You want to watch a few of the other acts, get your brain creating ideas for their suggestions.
Too late.
I went on.
Not hyped enough.
First three, my brain worked for.
I think they were ‘Oedipus App’,’Witchcraft Benefits’ and “why I admire serial killers”.
Then, I got stumped. The gin had gone in too deep.
The final one, Trump Tramp Stamp, fuck, nothing.
I floundered. Talked my way out. The end.
Now, my mind is filled with suggestions.
Too late mind, shut up.
On the way home, I bumped into the hecklers who had been thrown out during Daniel Sloss’s routine. They told me pirate jokes then released me.
“A pirate goes to doctor’s. He has some small tumours on his arm. The doctor says, “they’re benign”. And the pirate replies, “No, I counted and there be ten.”
Thank you and goodnight.
My shows are HERE and HERE and then on UK tour from Salford to Dartmouth and beyond.
Part one of this blog is HERE.
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