Now I like to tell people I’m a comedian and certainly give the impression that I lead some kind of glamorous life style, not of temping jobs and flyering in the cold for gigs, but of superstar whore parties and private jets. I don’t think anyone believes the private jet thing. But I also, thankfully, don’t think that people know quite how horrible the flyering can be.
There are a few gigs I flyer for, and usually it is just a case of holding a big sign in Leicester Square for an hour or two handing out flyers. The signs are often well printed, and despite the occasional Golf Sale comments it tends to be bearable rather than horrible.
One gig I don’t like flyering for is the Sunday one in Angel. The sign is a stolen estate agents for sale sign, turned around and in black paint “Comedy Tonight £5†has been daubed. It looks terrible. Also, I live in Angel and so do a lot of comics, it’s never nice to be seen like this.
Tonight I was hungover, I was cold, I was hungry and it was raining. The stick was leaving splinters in my hands, I’d left my gloves at home and I was in a thoroughly bad mood.
So probably not the best time for someone I would rather didn’t see me in such a humiliating pose to walk past.
and so obviously, they… The ex of my ex sees me, we never like each other… he clocks me I want to be swallowed up by the world.
Great.