Today is my comedy night. It's come around again. Looming large on my fearometer. Always niggling at the back of my head. Tonight Comedy Chops returns.
It's Part 2 of my 40th Birthday Trilogy (Pub Idle 3 to follow on Saturday night) and if I'm honest the thing i get most fearful about.
I've written quite a bit of material (not remembered it so it's written down on a clipboard), promoted it quite a bit and booked 3 good acts. In short I've done everything i can.
I'm covering Neil Armstrong's death, Turning 40 (of course) The Tesco Mobile advert and Olympics.
I spent all day avoiding actually writing down the gags, memorising and speaking it through. I made so many cups of tea, smoked numerous cigarettes and watch Elvis so many times on You Tube i actually felt constipated aswell.
Finally at 2pm i settled down and banged in a few hours graft. In my kitchen speaking out loud i sounded magnificent. The material was dynamite. Amazing. Like a cross between Bill Hicks and Billy Connolly. My god I'm a genius.
Then when i drove to the Hurlingham pub for the Comedy, my material got progressively shittier with every passing Mile. Until when i reached the pub in SW6 it was about as funny as Joe Pasquali with haemorrhoid's. How did that happen? In the space of 6 miles i went from Comedy God to Comedy Dogshit. Weird. Good job the gig wasn't furher. Would have been Mental carnage, or marnage.
My routine is always the same. I panic all day with low level fear. I usually have around 5 shits. Don't eat anything, smoke and drink diet coke and write down my material on a big sheet. Then i arse about putting it off watching Flog It! until i get sick of myself and knuckle down. Then i read it through 3 or 4 times and have shower. (today i used my birthday presents and gave myself a facial, which in the old days would have meant a really keen wank on my back, but now that I'm 40 meant clinique face scrub & moisturiser)
Then i get in the car and spend the journey trying to pray to relax, remember its only a pub comedy night and not to take myself too seriously. Usually that works for around 3 seconds so i start smoking & worrying again.
When i get to the pub i usually try to change the entire room layout needlessly causing massive headache for the staff, only to change it back. Then i go through a series of conversations with people without listening as I'm only thinking if people will actually show up, then at 8.50pm i go outside and look up and down the road hoping to see an army of 50 people coming to bolster the meagre crowd inside. I go to my car, smoke and consider running away. Then i pray, head back and it's time to start at 9pm. Fuck me, now I've got to remember to be funny and relaxed!
We had 44 people in, it was a lovely room. Atmosphere was excellent and i did all my material, some of which was pretty dam good. I relaxed, had fun and the acts were very very good tonight and it was one of the best nights I've done. I actually enjoyed it.
All that worry, stress, fear, panic for no reason. I actually saw potential in my style, delivery and material. This little soldier was a teeny bit proud tonight and i can actually look forward to my party now on Saturday. Phew.
On the health front i sank several litres of diet coke, smoked numerous cigarettes and got to bed at 3am for a 8am start for work. I shan't be posting that one on Nick Evans Personal Training. sshhhhhhh
xx
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