Glasgow tonight and they worked me hard. I did my own show, then headed to the King's Theatre to do a spot in a burlesque show (I kept my clothes on luckily) then on to the Glasgow Stand to close the late show. The variety was a good thing and it was a pleasant change to meet and chat with other comedians, but it was tiring enough already and on top of that some twat decided to put the clocks forward tonight
My own gig at the Oran Mor went well, but was remarkable in that an hour before the gig started I got news via Twitter that a group of 30 or so protestors had gathered outside with banners and leaflets to picket the show. I was about to be interviewed for a TV show, but thought that this was too good an opportunity to miss for a DVD extra so headed downstairs to go and film the protest. I was maybe taking my life in my hands, but I wanted to see this.
I thought I might have been able to remain incognito, but these people had done their research and I was almost immediately recognised. Two or three of the people came forward to take issue with me. I asked them if they had seen the show and they said they hadn't, though had seen clips on the internet, and that in any case it didn't matter as they didn't need to see the show. I tried to explain that it was pretty complimentary to Jesus, but they told me that it wasn't. It was a fool's errand to be honest and I probably shouldn't have bothered. They kept on telling me that they didn't need to see the show to know it was shameful and wrong. It was all fairly polite and I never felt in physical danger, but no one was going to change anyone's minds here. I said that maybe they shouldn't judge something without seeing it first. One of them said, "Have you ever seen a child being abused?"
I had to admit that I hadn't.
"But you still think child abuse is wrong. You don't need to see it to know that it is evil."
Well he had a good point, hey? And these two circumstances are the same. I tried to argue back that if I were to accuse an individual of child abuse I would probably want to have some evidence. But what was the point? These people had made up their mind and were unshakeable in their beliefs and their condemnation of me. I tried to ask them how they could be sure that they had got the right religion and didn't they think that the ancient Egyptians and Romans had been as sure of their own gods, but what was the point?
The venue manager, who I think had called the police and was worried that the protest might escalate came to take me away, although these people were not going to do anyone any harm and luckily the show had sold out ages ago, so there was little chance of them getting into the show and being disruptive. Protest is one of our rights, though it was an odd coincidence that whilst in London people were protesting about government cuts, in Glasgow they were protesting about me. There might be more important issues than my silly show. And it's a shame that after yesterday's positive response from a Christian (who had seen the show) there should be such a negative backlash. The Zion Baptists were sure that they were right. I am less certain about it all, just wanting to put some questions out there.
It's funny and almost flattering in an odd way for this to happen once, but I hope it doesn't become a feature of the tour.
It created some pre-show entertainment for my crowd, who were unlikely to be persuaded by the protestors and maybe gave the show an additional frisson of excitment, but I do not really relish or covet such attention. I know that my friend Stewart Lee did not enjoy the attentions of such Christians when the Jerry Springer thing reached its height - though you might argue that it led to him producing some of his finest stand up work and was partly responsible for his comedic resurgence.
Here are some other examples of
the Zion Baptists Protests. They are keeping themselves busy and have a lot to rail against. Not just atheists like me, but even other Christians who have chosen the wrong branch of Christianity, like the Pope.
At the Club Noir gig I was introduced on to stage unexpectedly and no one had told me that the curtain would be down or that I would have to enter stage left to pick up the microphone. I blundered on to stage through the curtain, almost tripping over, a good 30 seconds late and was then forced to try and project my voice into the massive theatre so all 600 people could hear me. I didn't succeed and people at the back began shouting that they couldn't hear me. A microphone finally appeared through the curtains. It was a potentially disastorous opening and my first proper joke fell flat and a woman mocked my trainers (I had packed light for this leg of the tour and only have my sandals and my running shows, which I suspected would get a comment - but in the kerfuffle I didn't manage to respond that by wearing trainers on a Saturday night I was just trying to fit in with the locals - when in Glasgow). But I pulled it round and it is perhaps indicative of how far I have come in the last few years that I managed to overcome these obstacles and not let it throw me too much. It was almost like one of those anxiety dreams, being almost literally thrown on to stage, without my baton de commandment (my microphone in case you were wondering) my first joke being greeted with echoey silence, in Glasgow. In fact I wonder if it might have been a dream. It was just a short set though and a couple in the front row almost expired laughing at my homosexual hand signs routine, which made it all worthwhile.
By now I was tired, hungry and a bit spaced out and slightly nervous about the gig at the Stand as I haven't done my stand up set for ages and I knew they would all be drunk and tired by this stage of the night so I'd have to roll out gags rather than routines. There was a boisterously drunk table of people celebrating a birthday at the front, who were really rather nice people and not attempting to be disruptive, but they were chatting away to each other in the manner of people who don't know quite how loud they are talking and I had to incorporate them into the show. Luckily everyone else were just tired and placid. Ten minutes in I couldn't really remember anything else from my set, but I managed to come up with some stuff, before embarking on the stuff about my small hands (I had remembered that the first bit of it wasn't all the offensive - I had remembered wrong). But I just about got away with it, even if, as I tried to find a cab on the echoey Glasgow streets I felt like I had been punched around the head. It had been quite an eventful night.
