The home of the haikulator

 

Links

My Stand-up & gigs
The Coding Craftsman
BurberryAndBroccoli
MarkInventions

The Musical!
Incredible Productions

apostrophell
backlash
incredible
haiku


Previous Posts

Sell It To Yourself
A Nice Day Slightly Kippered
A Quiet Evening Out
I'm Singing On The Trail
Cramming It In
London To Scotland Via Reading
Evening With The Folks
It Needed To Be Done
Lllllovely
Detox

Blog Archives

January 1970
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
August 2009
September 2009
January 2010
March 2010
April 2010
May 2010
June 2010
July 2010
August 2010
September 2010
October 2010
November 2010
December 2010
January 2011
February 2011
March 2011
April 2011
May 2011
June 2011
July 2011
August 2011
October 2011
December 2011
February 2012
March 2012
April 2012
May 2012
June 2012
July 2012
March 2013
April 2013
May 2013
June 2013
July 2013
August 2013
September 2013
October 2013
December 2013
January 2014
February 2014
March 2014
May 2014
July 2014
January 2015
February 2015
March 2015
April 2015
May 2015
June 2015
July 2015
August 2015
January 2016
February 2016
March 2016
April 2016
May 2016
July 2016

Global Domination

Locations of visitors to this page

Thursday, June 19

A Bridge Too Far

I finished work at a perfectly normal time and headed in the general direction of my gig. I would normally head in the actual direction of the gig, but tonight I'd decided to add egg to the pudding. This is a metaphor (just in case you have Asperger's syndrome). After recent contact with a friend whom I've not seen in ages, now living in the Telford area, I decided to hook up with them at the next gig I was doing in their general direction. Tonight was the night.

The journey was fairly uneventful. The reasonably open road, some radio, some Radio 4 specifically, a stop for a coffee and a couple of apples - yeah, apples are just like muffins, except cheaper and lower in bad things. Tonight was also to be the first weekly weigh-in of the new regime. Regime!? Pah. It's just returning to eating habits that I know are better for me, and doing some exercise to prove that man and bike can be a powerful duo in combination. I was only slightly worried about not having lost any weight since my first weigh-in... so I had some apples. Lunch had been a bit more white-bread/butter than I would have preferred.

But I digress. The Sat Nav took me accurately to the wrong location, but it proved to be only a mile or so from the correct location. I picked up my friend and her friend, and then I took these two ladies in the "bitch mobile" (I didn't mention the term at the time, it would have put them off) to my gig in Cradley.

Now, there's something I should tell you about the gig in Cradley. I had to tell the ladies in the car, and it's important to set expectations for these things. This gig is not showbiz. Far from it. This is a pub which is not in the category of "nice". You don't take a girl to this pub on a date. You also don't go to this pub expecting to have a fight, or be poisoned or have a miserable time. It's got tons of character. It's just not salubrious. That's not how it works. Also, the night in question: it's a new act night. Audiences fluctuate, the audience can be a bunch of bastards, or lovely or disinterested, and there's no guarantee of their number. The acts can also be good, bad, ugly, or utterly mental. From this description, it sounds like I'm not keen, but nights like this are always worth attending. There'll always be fun to be had. Plus, they've been really nice to me and I've always enjoyed it.

So, disclaimers having been shared with the people in the car, we headed to the gig telling tales of crazy people and crazy nights past.

We arrived just in time for the opening act. I'll now stop detailing the night blow by blow. It wouldn't be fair to review the acts specifically. I can reference the fact that there was a guy there who is always very nice to me when we gig together, and who can be hard to follow. He was on good form. I will say that I watched some acts start out looking weak and then come along with tons of good material and delivery, leaving me worried that I wouldn't be able to follow them. I also watched the clock... as it ticked inexorably towards "too late to get back home at a reasonable time" and then beyond.

Of most note was a character act. Well two. It was one person doing two rather over-written characters, neither of which particularly worked, the second of which was simply totally mental. I think Catherine Tate has a lot to answer for in terms of giving people the notion that a prop-laden grotesque is, in itself, inherently funny. Though eating doritos and cornflakes with beer from a bowl... well that's quite odd.

I wouldn't normally pick up on another act's "act" like this, but I felt like it was distinctly in need of rethinking/editing, and I felt like the performer might have learned something about the art of comedy had she stuck around and watched the rest of the show. I don't really like it when newer acts turn up, go on, and then sod off. You learn more by watching.

Conversely, the gig was in the middle of nowhere and I suppose it was only to be expected that some people would want to get home. I would certainly have considered leaving early had I gone on at anywhere other than the end of the show. Having said that, I would probably have apologised to the other acts for leaving early. It's how I am. A comedy-chum of mine wrote something quite inspiring on a comedy forum. He described that one of the ways to determine if you're serious about comedy is to see whether you actually watch the rest of the show.

I watched much of the show last night. I laughed when I thought it was funny. It was a night out for me as well as a gig.

Apparently, I had "fans" in the audience. About 3 people had turned up specifically because they knew I was on. I was out to impress by car-load of women, then this would have looked like I'd rigged it. "Ooh, Ashley, you're famous in Cradley Heath" they might have cooed.

Yet the clock was saying a bad thing when I actually got onto the stage. It was 11.50pm. I made some gag about it only just being the date I was booked to appear on and then did about 30 minutes of Ashley gold. Well, that's not true. About 10 minutes of Ashley gold was peppered with other stuff. And you know what? I enjoyed myself. If you're going to take yourself to a stupid distance from home on a weeknight in the middle of nowhere with an audience that's dwindled to the hardcore "fans" and the people too pissed to have anywhere else to go, then you have to make it fun for yourself.

I had a laugh.

Then we got the hell out of there.

I dropped the ladies home after a very girlie chat in the car - for a second time in the same week, I concluded that "men are bastards" and felt like I meant it.

Then the long drive home. And it really felt like a long drive. I texted Janice Long to ask her to mention me and she did. That was a bit of a pep. Given the weigh-in and the general weight control plan, I didn't want to stack up on calories to keep me awake. Being mentioned on the radio always amuses me. I used a tip that Terry Wogan implied in his auto-biography. He'd always play requests that were for "something nice" since it allowed him to choose the track. Equally, knowing that Janice is based in Birmingham, I reckoned she'd relish the chance to correctly pronounce the name of Cradley Heath. So, I told her where I'd been - "a late running comedy night in Cradley Heath" - and asked her to play something fun. It was meaningless, but I was amused. It's strange to hear your words coming out of someone else's distinctive mouth.

Eventually, having gotten to the stage where I was counting the 0.1's of the last 49 miles - it's a bit like counting sheep, only you stay awake and time moves quicker, I got home, ready to smash up any car that dared block my drive. None had.

I stripped and got on my bathroom scales. Shit. I'd lost 6 pounds. Good. Brilliant.

I munched on two apples and hit the hay. I will pay for this excessive lack of sleep at some point. Even though I went to sleep last night after 3.40am, I can't actually sustain so many late nights.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

All content ©2001 - 2012 Ashley Frieze