Funny Man

When I go to perform stand-up, I always bring a notepad with me. I get to the venue and order a drink. Sometimes it's a pub and I can watch the act before me, sometimes not. I sit down and open my notepad. In it is directions I've left myself from the last time I performed: what I need to improve on, what I need to remember and what worked well. I start to write and give myself a goal. These are all hastily jotted down in bullet points, not because they're easier to read, but because at any moment I can be dragged away by the manager of the place, or have someone sit down and talk to me. Today I've bought my notepad to help write this blog, as a way to chronicle what happens over the next hour.

I arrive. This is probably the nicest place I perform at that isn't in London. It's a nice big pub, with a stage and chairs in one corner and a small reclusive spot with tables and couches in the other. I order a drink from the bar and get I.D'd immediately, I tell the barmaid that I don't have I.D. but that I am performing tonight. She asks the manager, he says he remembers me from two weeks before and I get my drink. The room is already full and so I'm forced to sit at the bar, there are two men on either side of me, both seem to be alone. I wait my turn.

After thirty minutes, (twenty minutes later than I thought), I get my calling. I had already finished drinking and writing long before. I pick up my notepad and walk on stage, bumping into people as I go. I change the mic level and place my notepad on the chair at the side of the stage. I start my routine the way I have for the past month, nothing new here just the same easy laughs to make the crowd like me. It's weird to think that at one point I was frightened of what people would think of me as it seems so simple now, the only frightening part is telling new jokes, crossing new boundaries, seeing how far I can take an anecdote before it loses its appeal. The crowd keeps laughing and I keep talking, at some point I take the mic down from the stand and start pacing. I rarely pace the stage, I think it's cheating, you trick the audience into believing your jokes are funnier than they are. Tonight I think my jokes are funnier than they are.

I finish my set in around twenty minutes, the last fifteen consisted of all new material. I counted three applause breaks overall and whilst I leave the stage I get literal pats on the back from some of the audience. I sit back in the exact spot I was at previously, the two men are still there. One of them asks if I was just on stage, I tell him I was, he says he thought I was quite funny. I write on what I need to improve on and order another drink at the bar, this time the barmaid doesn't ask for I.D. She tells me that she liked a joke I told about my au-pair. I thank her. Normally I'd think that was an invitation to start flirting with her, but not tonight. Tonight I need to write so I don't forget. So I write.

The next comedian comes on stage, I watch ten minutes of his act before I take my leave. I can pinpoint exactly which comedian and which special he stole two of his jokes from, I wonder if anyone else can too. I'd steal jokes if I didn't think that I'd be caught out by an audience member. But it seems that he got away with it, at least he had before I left... maybe the audience turned on him in the end. I find a bench on my way home and add a couple of things to the pad. Before I left the pub, the manager paid me. Even if it's not much, it's always nice to be rewarded for a job well done. Tonight for the first night in a long time, I think I deserved the praise.

I'm back home now. I look over my notes and realise how scrappily written everything is. My handwriting seems to have gotten much worse since I started jotting things down instead of writing in full sentences. I grab a glass of milk before I climb the stairs to my room, sit down in my chair and start typing.

I'm tired now.

Sam


Published at 21:30