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I am in such a different headspace to three years ago in Edinburgh that it’s almost insane. Or it was insane last time. Admittedly even if not a single person was buying a ticket then I couldn’t do as badly as I did in 2014. But also I am here for the right reasons: to create a good showing then improve it. John from Fareham had given me much wisdom. Individual opinions one way or the other don’t matter. I am assessed in my job daily. I am still working. If I stop being funny my family starve to death. They are still alive. And at least one of us is really fat and one other of us looks like she’s fat. I am winning.
Today was a proper joy. Apart from the bit where I had to trudge up the hill to the New Town Theatre carrying an amount of Emergency Question Books that would definitely cover all demand (it turned out I overestimated it by a lot) and realising halfway there that I’d forgotten my all important “Tiny Rick†notebook and thus having to go home for it. Luckily I worked out I could drop off my bags at the Stand and double back. But I was will knackered and sweaty and rained upon by the time I arrived at the scary Masonic Hall I was working in.
An efficient and friendly crew (and I am lucky that this is also very much the case in Pleasance One - these youngsters are all working their socks off without complaint) got us set up for the show and the Doug Anthonys arrived to soundcheck their song. I haven’t really met them properly (they were actually witness to the second performance of the OTG in 1988, when after we’d been booed off as the Oxford Revue, we returned to try and put on an offensive one-off show at the Gilded Balloon- because we needed the £10 each we were being paid - not that they will remember), but they were as charming and funny as I had expected them to be. And we then went ahead and created a really enjoyable podcast including a brilliantly performed bit of visual comedy that will make no sense as an audio, but which, for a moment, tricked me into thinking it was genuine. Tim, played bamboozled and dippy in his wheelchair and seemed not to notice Paul had put a triangle on his mic stand. Paul pointed at it, but Tim smiled back, with vacant eyes. He seemed not to have realised that the instrument was there…. but then, that was the joke and however much Paul indicated it during the song, Tim seemed to misunderstand. It was beautiful and hilarious, as was the podcast chat.
And I walked away from the theatre asking myself why I hadn’t agreed to do a daily podcast as always. Of course, that would have been insane, but maybe I should have done more than three.
I had a heartstopping moment when I got home to discover there was only 2 seconds of the tech recorded on my Tascam, but felt confident that the sound guy must have removed it, rather than copying it to his computer. But several hours passed before this was confirmed and I worried we’d lost the whole thing. But luckily it was all there (aside from the first 40 seconds) and
look here it is for you to listen to.
And James Acaster is confirmed for next week’s show (with Iain Stirling looking very likely to be on it too.
Book your tickets here. Both these acts have sold out their original runs.
179 people came to the show (that should have been on Saturday, except we fucked up the dates), so thanks to those who skipped work for us. Both the others have already sold more than this and are likely to sell out. That is a good thing.
And amazingly the stand up show actually sold out tonight, prompting me to think that maybe I am just going to sell 100 tickets more every night for the rest of the run and get about 2600 people into my 320 seater venue for the final show. That’s just maths. We will see.
My first day wobble looked stupid. And I can be fairly confident that the Fringe won’t bankrupt me this year and that I should make a bit of money. All these things help stave off the depression that can grip you in this stupid Festival. Plus, it was a blinding show, by far the best of the run so far, even though my mic went wrong and was crackling along for the first few minutes. The positive mental attitude makes it a lot easier to do a great show. But so does having people in the room. 320 people in an audience is an amazing achievement for me in any town, but even more so in one that I am going to be doing 20+ other gigs.
I then met up with some friends for a drink and a bit of dinner in a lovely bar near our house, that wasn’t too noisy or too rammed. I found out that the podcast was safe. One of my friends told me that he was going to the gym I have joined for the Fringe and that one day one he got a hand job in the steam room. If that isn’t an incentive to go to the gym then I don’t know what is. It’s an all male steam room, but at this stage of my life I don’t think I can be too fussy and I think my wife might even let that slide. Shame that I am uncomfortable about the whole hot room spa thing (as detailed in the show).
Edinburgh is the most wonderful place in the world. Anyone who blogs about it being a waste of time or effort is a fucking idiot.
I don’t know how I’ve pulled this off.
That’s what I would say if I had been in the steam room.
