I haven't really seen much of Montreal yet. The last two times I was here I was kept working all day long so only saw clubs and the hotel, but this time I have no such excuse. Except that I am trying to get work done in the day. But I am enjoying chilling out in the hotel, writing in the lobby, chatting to the comics passing by and reading Alastair Campbell's diaries (he'll be furious if he finds out I've got them). I have eaten my lunch in the mall below the hotel each day so far (though I am sure there must be some great restaurants within easy walking distance) and exercised in the hotel gym, which has little TV screens on the actual machines, which I am very impressed with. I watched Judge Judy as I pretended to ski today. It's better than having a shared TV in front of you, mainly because you can choose your own channel, but also because it's just much cooler having it on the actual equipment.
So I've mainly been relaxing and writing and done no sight-seeing at all yet. Though I inadvertently took in some of the sights tonight on the short walk down to the venue, when I took a wrong turn and ended up heading in the wrong direction (taking Frank Skinner and a couple of people from Avalon with me, who thought I knew some sneaky short-cut). We ended up going through China Town which was an interesting diversion, though Montreal is small and organised in blocks so we soon found our way to where we needed to be.
The Just For Laughs staff are very polite and helpful and there are crisps and sweets and drinks laid on in the small green room, which are constantly being topped up by a young woman, whose job, it seems is to top up snacks for comedians and then clean up their mess afterwards. There were Werther's Originals today and things that were essentially Wotsits, but a bit curly and about three times the length of your UK Wotsit. Things are very different here in Canada. Their Wotsits are huge. Werther's Originals are the same though. Not everything can be so different.
The gig tonight was harder work. It was a slightly older crowd and they seemed a little more shockable and I thought I was losing them in the middle, but the alternate handsigns for homosexuals routines brought them round and my 12 minutes ended strongly. It's a bit of a shame that I am not getting to do a longer set at all this week. I don't think my short set is very representative of what I do, not giving me the chance to go off on a flight of fancy, but I am pleased enough with the reaction. Still nearly everyone was slightly disappointed with their performances tonight, but really only because last night the audience had been slightly more appreciative. And Michael McIntyre had a real stormer, managing to grab a tray off a surprised waiter in the audience and refusing to give it him back. There is not much improvisation in most of the local and American acts here, so seeing someone do something spontaneous was very exciting for the crowd. But he was the only comic to do better tonight than last and inevitably this was the show that got reviewed (at least by
Chortle), which was a pity as last night was a show to be proud of, whilst this one was a little sticky (the running order had changed too, which I don't think helped matters).
So it was a slightly less enthusiastic and more desolate group of comedians who headed back to the ridiculously expensive Hyatt hotel bar, though we tried to cheer each other up with chats about our favourite comedy films and taking the piss out of the comedians who start their act with the well-worn staple, "I know what you're thinking, it's the love child of X and Y" in which they name two celebrities that they vaguely look like. We tried to do the joke for each of us, me plumping for being the love child of Dom Joly and Ardal O'Hanlon (who is of course at the Festival, though I haven't been mistaken for him yet) and me rudely deciding that Wes Packer was the love child of Shrek and Tom Jones. Michael McIntyre did a great one which you will need to ask him to do if you ever meet him (please ask him) saying "When I smile I look like a fat Chinaman", which he really does. Frank Skinner came up with the best one though, after we struggled to think of anyone he looked like, which was, "I know what you're thinking, it's Isabelle Dinoire with the face of Frank Skinner transplanted on to her face." For me the fact that he knew the name of the French woman who had recently had the first face transplant operation made it a fine joke.
So far there aren't that many industry people here and the Hyatt bar is nowhere near as packed as I remember the Delta hotel being back in the 90s (maybe because it's five pounds for a bottle of beer), but there are several nights to go and hopefully the shows will go more like the one on Monday than the one tonight. I am still having a lovely time on my working holiday.
