The Hat Factory, Luton
Had proper frights before this gig, not so sure why. The Hat Factory is a lovely looking room, but unfortunately, on the evening of a hot sunny day with a World Cup England match it was not a very full one. In fact it was a disparate audience of around 15 that showed to watch my pulp boying and Ed Weeks and co doing his preview.
This was the first odd thing, in 2003 I did Insert Punchline Here at Edinburgh, a sketch show with four of us, plus a director and usually one or two other people coming along to the preview gigs like a proper entourage. And their show tonight was exactly that. I walked into the venue and they were doing their tech rehearsal, top and tailing every sketch to give the techy man an idea of what the myriad of lighting and sound cues were as they all jovially bantered between each sketch.
I was almost embarrassed to say that my technical requirements were to turn a light on when I started and turn it off again when I was done, but if that’s too much bother, just leave it off and I’ll shout.
And as Pulp Boy is ultimately a show about loneliness I guess it was apt that sat in my corner of the bar with a notebook I did feel quite lonely, this is I guess the life of a stand up comic, I turn up to gigs in various towns, often knowing someone or other on the bill, but on the whole just being Mr Man who sits in a corner then gets up and does the funny. And the laughter does feel a bit hollow when you can be stuck in some godforsaken town and everyone that laughed at me all leave in big groups and I end up buying Dairy Milk at an extortionate cost from a train platform vending machine on my lonesome.
But Luton is not a godforsaken town, I imagine, I only saw the station, an overpass and the theatre, but it looked fairly fucking horrible, so maybe it is godforsaken.
The audience were odd, a mix of people seeming to like the show and an odder family of two 20yr old brothers, their girlfriends and their parents. They were very vocal throughout, but in an odd way, as in they were enjoying the show, but not heckling, just commenting, perhaps even narrating.
Since Leamington I have shaved around 1,000 words off the story, and like Swansea this audience left me reluctant to read it out, even though I have learnt a lot of it. But I have learnt those lessons and I ploughed on with it, and glad I did. They, for the most part, listened and enjoyed. The story is still too fucking long but getting near to being finished, the stand uppy bits are working better, but I still have some rather terrifyingly worrying gaps that I hope I can fill with the funny before August.
So, after Leamington I felt hopeful, Luton has left me lonely and scared, very much like I’m sure most people feel after a visit there.