September 24th, 2009
On Tuesday at about 3.45pm – just at the beginning of a monumentally dull staff meeting – I got a call from my agent.
“Hi Lucy, how are you?”
“Good thanks Sarah, how are you?”
“Mmm, ok – Lucy, why didn’t you go to your casting today?”
……….
“Hmmm? Beg pardon?”
“ You had a casting for that comedy programme – I sent you the details….”
FUCK.
It’s true; she had. She sent me an email about an amazing casting for a TV programme looking for a female comedian. I remembered it specifically because the writing was pink. It was advertising for an established but undiscovered young female comedian to be part of some comedy debate programme in return for loadsa dosh. Not even kidding. It was so pant wettingly fantastic that I got half way down the brief and thought,
“Well this is jolly lovely but there’s no way on God’s green and pleasant earth that I’ll get seen for this… ah well. Such is life, where are the biscuits?”
WRONG.
Had I read to the bottom I would have seen that I was indeed invited to a casting. At 2.40pm on Tuesday. CUNT CUNT CUNT.
BUT
My agent then informs me that if I can make it to Camden for 5pm they will still see me! I was in Grove Park during the conversation in question. FAR FAR from Camden. FAR FAR from civilisation come to that. I had roughly one hour to make it across London at rush hour.
The journey included
1 x 15 minute A team style driving
1 x 10 minute breathless train journey during which I tried to put make up on my face using a teeny tiny mirror.
1x 20 minute agonising tube journey
1 x 5 minute Anneka Rice sprint down Camden Road glaring up at building names and accosting a PCSO for directions and explanation of my map/scribble.
Do the math people! I made it! Yeah! Sweaty, wheezy and with patchwork make up. I made it.
Didn’t get the job. But that’s not the point.
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September 17th, 2009
Sex is funny. It’s one of those universal truths like the thing with the fella in possession of a large fortune wanting a wife. Picture the chap next to you on the tube dining at the Y and after the initial nose wrinkle of disgust, I pretty much guarantee that the corners of your mouth will curl into a secret smirk of amusement. Of course they will. Just like the stories that really have us all rolling on the floor are the ones our mates tell after the third glass of red about the guy that pissed on her in bed once.
Actually that really happened. To me. Yes my sex life is one long fucking stand up show.
But I don’t use it in my set. This is not, I should hastily point out, because I’m embarrassed or shy – anyone who’s spent the evening in a pub with me and my ninety million decibel voice and my aptitude for falling over will know that I do not embarrass all that easily. No. I don’t use it because I sort of feel like it’s cheating. Sex is already funny so if I reel out a description of sordid acts some guy I met off the internet wanted to try with me, people would probably laugh – but only because the part that sounds a bit 2 girls1 cup would make them all a bit nervous. Shock people and they’ll laugh (unless you tell them they’re adopted or that their parents are dead – people rarely laugh at that). BUT if you can talk about cutlery or walking the dog or office utensils and make a room full of people laugh – then you my friend are a funny person. Official. Well, in my opinion anyway.
I went to this comedy workshop day thing once and a comedian called Adam Bloom who I think is very hilarious said that a funny story does not a funny person make. I think talking about fucking your auntie with a purple dildo comes (oo er obviously) within this bracket. It’s also why I’ve decided to stop making jokes about special needs children.
Tags: Adam Bloom, sex, Stand up comedy
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September 8th, 2009
Ooh I’m getting into this blogging malarkey. It’s fun and makes me feel important and interesting. Something generally lacking from the rest of my life – but more on my broken psyche later…
So last night’s stand up gig.
It was at ‘The Hob’ in Forest Hill which is a really great venue and I urge everyone to go down there either for their proper real comedians night on a Saturday or the New Act/ New Material night on a Monday. If anyone reading this is a baby stand up like me, definitely give this one a shout as the people that run it (edcomedy) are friendly and encouraging and also there’s a real stage and EVERYTHING!! None of your microphone stuffed in the corner business for them, oh no! The audience was very small but no one threw anything or called anyone a cunt so that’s also nice.
Some odd things happened – including a man in a dragon suit trying to kiss my friend and me going home with a glow in the dark hula hoop after testing it out in the bar…
But as to the actual business of my set…
It was ok.
Not crap but not a raving orgy of comic success either.
Which is irritating really.
I am irritated by my own mediocrity. If it had gone one way or the other – that is, had I been a raging hit or a miserable and humiliating disaster – there wouldn’t have been an awful lot of analysis to be had.
Either
‘That was fucking brilliant, I win!’
Or
‘That was shit – I want a bucket of gin’
Easy.
But ‘ok’ is annoying because I find myself poring over tiny details trying to work out why things just didn’t quite gel in the way that they have done before.
Ultimately of course, it’s just life (Deep huh?). Things are going to be different each time and actually, I keep forgetting that I haven’t been at this game all that long at all. Last night was gig number 10 I think. And if you take into consideration the fact that one of the New Act promoters I emailed last week replied with a message stating that ‘New Act’ meant having done under 500 gigs, you begin to realise what a mountain there is to climb. Another comedian I met told me that it took him 50 gigs before he didn’t just feel like he was in a car crash for five minutes.
So onwards and upwards. Take heart. Don’t run before you can walk. And other placating clichés.
And in the next blog – Why sex is funny but not clever….. because someone told me there wasn’t enough sex in the last entry.
Tags: Stand up comedy, The Hob
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September 3rd, 2009
Wish I wasn’t so bone bastard idle. It’s like an affliction and I almost wonder if I should get benefits. The main problem one encounters is that life tends to metaphorically leave without me while I’m still trying to get my shoes on. Consequently I end up standing about wondering why things haven’t quite turned out how I imagined they might.
Case in point; I have this year decided to put the old acting career on the back burner and focus my energies and meager talent to stand up comedy. Actually one of the side affects of this, interestingly, is that I’ve had more acting work this year than I’ve had since leaving drama school. Tsk.
When one is a baby stand up comedian, one has to trawl the internet (or in my case, facebook) for Open Mic Nights and New Act Nights or Throw Bottles Of Piss At Some Poor Soul On A Stage Nights. Then email or telephone and try to persuade a stranger that you’re well funny honest. Sometimes they couldn’t give a monkeys. Sometimes all they care about is that you will bring a plethora of alcoholics with you. Scoop them off the street if neccassary. More often they are of the slightly patronising ‘have you got a website?’ variety. Pointless question for New Act and Open Mic nights in my oppinion. No I haven’t got a poxy website – what’s it going to say?
‘Lucy is jolly funny, all her friends say so.’
Can’t prove it obviously – haven’t actually been behind a microphone for long enough to notch up any idea of whether or not this is really going to work out. I’ll let you know.
And I will of course let you know. Once I’ve waded through the list of email addresses… Which will happen…. After I’ve made tea. And eaten a biscuit. Looked in the mirror and worried about the length of my neck for fifteen minutes. And oh dear now I’m late. I’ve also wasted some time wondering if the pixies will do it for me. Like they helped that shoe maker chap. He did awfully well out of that. I’m also hoping they will tidy up, do my tax return and find £10,000 down the back of the sofa for me.
So where I should have been doing this at the beginning of the year, I’ve done it this week instead. BUT, ladies and gentlemen I am getting booked up I can tell you – with a massive ONE gig booked for September. Oh yes indeed. Bet those pixies are kicking themselves now!
The general point of writing this blog is to reflect on my endeavours in the world of stand up and what it’s like to make people laugh, get stage fright, cope with people talking over you, die on your arse or succeed in a triumphant stream of hysteria. Hope it’s interesting. I have, hopefully, a gig booked on Monday, so asuming I make it through alive and with dry knickers (not in a rude way) I intend to let everyone know how it went through the medium of bloggage.
Thanks for reading my first crack – I hope it’s worked as I’ve spent a good eighteen minutes on it – time I won’t get back should it dissapear off into the ether when I click on Publish… Also I can’t really be bothered to cut and paste it into Word to check the spelling. So sorry. I’m not thick. Just idle.
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