So today is my comedy club. Comedy Chops returns tonight. This usually means a day of furiously trying to write topical material only to forget it when confronted with an audience of 50 people. We shall see.
I am trying hard to change my attitude. I am convinced no-one is going to turn up. My head is saying negative things and i am more worried than a bulimic at an 'all you can eat' buffet.
The Negative head is saying. It's only a pub room, you haven't taken at far as you could, you should have written more material, people only come because they know you. Blah blah blah. My head is so helpful to me. It's like having an ultra annoying younger brother. Either that or Chlamydia. It's a fucking pain.
I willed myself to be optimistic, positive. To accept what it is. In the scheme of things who is really going to notice and remember of i was good or not. Why the big deal? Am i that important?
So the whole day i drank enough diet coke and tea to last an entire AA convention. Wired. Smoked more cigarettes than a unit on a mental health ward and paced around so much i must have completed an ultra marathon. In my pants.
The result? 43 people showed up. The acts were really good, i managed to do some marathon routines i really enjoyed doing and everyone had a good night. Yes the professional acts slightly belittled the place and the fact is was a back room in a pub, but it was cool. A big living room style room, which was challenging as people were lolling back in armchairs like they'd just eaten Sunday lunch. Not the raucous comedy crowd i would have loved. But sod it, a good night.
Why did i worry in the first place?
Lessons to be learnt? Write a 3 minute routine to do at start every month. Relax. Don't have comfortable armchairs at the front so people too chilled, change date to early in the month, be tighter with acts and intervals and never ever ask a woman how long pregnant she is, when she isn't pregnant. Embarrassing.
I honestly wanted to die. I tried to get round it but it just made it worse. I couldn't have dug a bigger hole for myself. Good job i didn't mention she was ugly too (she was) But it was cringing. Everyone else found it funny. But fuck me. That's a textbook error! Awful.
I had to give her the 12 Krispy Kremes as 'worst month competition' winner to appease her. Maybe i did it so she can look pregnant by eating them. Schoolboy error!
So, really it all went OK. I was pleased. I stayed up very late drinking yet more diet coke, tea and eating Victoria Sponge cake. I really am that rock and roll. It's what my Nan would have wanted.
News from TOWIL (The Only Way is Llanelli) - My Mum is flagging and in need of a rest. Uncle Ken has nearly finished the repainting job on the house and Auntie Jean has cooked some beautiful welsh cakes. Story in Llanelli Star? A telegraph pole has been removed from Princess Street becuase people had to walk around it stepping into the road.
It's all fucking go down there folks
xx
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