Comedy is a cruel mistress
“Carpe Noctum” as Robin Williams would say
Thursday night took us to a new club gig.
I’m comparing, with a good sized crowd for a much anticipated club launch.
I’m introduced, I spring onto stage with my trademark energy explosion. And find myself inside every comedian’s worst nightmare. When the crowd decides straight away they don’t like you, nothing can redeem you. Sure-fire jokes fall flat. It’s like drowning in comedy treacle. My legs are tired, nothing works. I keep my links short, and safe in front of an unresponsive audience.When the night finally draws to a close, I slip away like a wounded dog. My tail between my legs … acutely aware that tomorrow is another high pressure performance.
Now it’s a Friday night & I’ve been reassigned to the closing act. I don’t mind, a welcome change of pace. I really took a knock the night before. Nice to be able to just sit and watch the show. Great crowd. Tonight’s M.C. doing a lovely job, all the acts having a great time.
I’m on last, but I’m uncharacteristically nervous. Tonight my mistress welcomes me with open arms.
I step on stage, open my mouth & I storm it. The crowd love me. I surf on their energy. Last night is just a memory, I’m fucking funny again.
I sometimes get people at the bar saying they’d like to be a standup. “Like” isn’t enough , you have to need to want it so desperately that nothing keeps you down. Tonight I go back for more I wouldn’t have it, any other way xx.