I had a fricking disastrous gig last night. Lot’s of tiny things conspired against me to really screw my night.
After a lovely weekend at the lovely Stand in Edinburgh I think it’s only fair that the comedy gods make me pay with a week of gigs that go weird.
On Tuesday i was compering a gig in which the headliner dealt (very well) with a rowdy heckler, but said heckler was too drunk to know when to stop, so he got kicked out. which led to other members of the audience screaming that he shouldn’t have been kicked out which became a big row and headliner stormed out.
I then had to go on and quell it a bit, then do a raffle. I’ve never done a raffle at a gig ever before – I’m quite good at it though.
The next gig had another raffle inexplicably in the break, it was hosted by the gig promoter and his friend and it was all very odd.
Last night’s gig was the Gipsy Hill Comedy Club, a gig I used to regularly compere in its old venue, but this was my first time in the new one in Crystal Palace.
I like doing this gig for many reasons, not least that there is a bus route that starts next to my flat and terminates next to the gig.
It makes it feel like my very own limo for the gig. Albeit a limo that takes a really roundabout route and I let a lot of other people get on along the way. and some of those people really scare me.
I waited for the bus to come, leaving more that enough time to spare for the journey. Well, ten mins more time than I figured I’d need to get to gig at 8:20.
25 mins later I’m still waiting for a bus that the sign assures me is every 10-12mins. It’s not appearing on the busstop countdown thingy and I’m starting to mildly panic. I double check all the signs and none mention this bus not working.
For the first time in my 8 years of living in london I rang that number that appears on every bus sign and map and got put on hold for ages. They then told me that this bus was being ’severely diverted’ and was experiencing delays of up to 45 mins – which for a 30 min bus journey is a little terrifying. The next one due would be in the next half hour. Thus making it impossible to get to gig on time.
There is a train station near me, I could get train to london bridge then back out to crystal palace. I trot down, checking the next train time on my little internet phone thing – the next train is in 3 mins – It’s a ten minute walk. I ran down, little fattening unfit body waddling along as people insist on standing in my way.
I manage to make the platform just as the train is cheerily pulling away.
I’d feel happier now if I had gone with my gut instinct and dropped to my knees yelling “Why God Why?”. but I didn’t, I just went into blind panic and rage and swore at people. The next train was in 20 mins and was already listed as being 5 late.
Talking to tom, the promoter, and stressing him out I tried to work out how it was possible to get to the gig. the next train would get me into crystal palace a full 14 mins after gig was supposed to start. Taxis were telling me there was at least a 25 min wait for one on a friday night.
So I waited, and in that horrible way, knowing that there was nothing I could do and that I should just relax for the journey i decided the only thing I could do was to get more and more angry until by the time I got to gig my left arm would be tingling.
running from station to gig I arrived suitably out of breath and we began the damn thing.
Unfortunately my rage had not led me to the happy comedy place, and my compering was erratic at best. I got them to some semblance of funny then brought on the lovely Ed Aczel and went backstage to try and pretend that I didn’t want to kick things.
After a break in which the audience seemed to have had a meeting in which the outcome was that they hated me I did my best (ha) and brought on the next act.
Then the night got farcical, as I left the stage I tripped over a wire that yanked itself out of the speaker, cutting the sound. This night was getting so ridiculous it was funny – aside from the audience telling me that it wasn’t funny, and seeing as funny is what they paid for they weren’t impressed.
I hadn’t noticed the sound had gone as I was hidden in a corner trying not to cry. Lou Sanders was the act, and carried on for her full set, luckily it’s not the biggest room in the world so it was a total disaster.
i was on again between her and the marvellous Alex Maple on next – but had to fill time whilst the speaker got reconnected. unfortunately by now I was dead inside and probably should have just sang a song or something like the old-school lot did.
Alex got the room back as I hid from everyone.
the final section was just the excellent Dan Antopolski closing, so was going to literally bring him on after making sure everyone was ready. Even this went wrong as someone shouted to turn the mic on, but it was already on. He was either joking/heckling/or I wasn’t talking into it.
hardly my finest hour, and apologies to all the acts and audience involved, I blame Boris Johnson.
I left the gig and wondered how the fuck I was going to get home.
My limo bus was waiting for me at the bustop, the backlog at the diversion was now cleared up and I made it home it good time.
And somehow even this annoyed me.