CNPS numbers spotted 6 (975). It's getting close now. If the gods be willing I should do it and hopefully before I leave London. Can you bear the suspense?
Tonight's audience in Aldershot were the polar opposite of the fannies of last night. It was as if I was being warned by some deity or deities not to become complacent. Yet just as it is doubtful that I will face as partisan an audience as last night, it is unlikely I will ever have to do this show to quite such hostility.
This wasn't really anyone's fault. I had been booked on a double bill with John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman, who do esoteric political comedy and from what I've seen are very funny if somewhat cerebral fellows. But the gig had been publicised like a stand up gig, with just out three names on a poster and little indication that we were working up new shows that weren't going to be quite ready and the heavy implication that this was a night of stand-up.
As I waited in the bar for the guys to finish there had been a lot of walk-outs. John and Andy had not been what they were anticipating. When my director Jeremy was mistaken from an actor from "Bedsitcom" which the punter thought was brilliant, I began to wonder how my eccentric tale of a man obsessed with car number-plates was going to go down. I guessed it probably wouldn't go down well.
As I waited back stage to go on I could hear that the audience were in high spirits. There was some commotion and cheering going on,. Apparently one of the men in the front row was getting up on stage and moving my glass of water around.These people wanted gags, not a story about how an autistic man overcame the break up of his relationship by attempting to steal the bra of a renowned feminist intellectual.
I went on with a heavy heart to loud and drunken cheers. I made a joe about the bar having done well tonight, which got a small laugh. The people in the first two rows were already chatting to each other. "This is a preview of my show for Edinburgh and it's very much a work in progress."
A man groaned and said something like "Oh not another one."
I said, "Yeah mate, I'm sorry, it's like a theatre show. I don't think you're going to like it. you might as well go."
To give him his due he cheerfully and drunkenly said, "Right you are," and left immediately. It was quite funny and must rate as my quickest walk out of all time. I hadn't even actually begun my show and said about twenty words.
I carried on trying to explain what was going on and the talking continued. I was thinking there was little point in doing this. I was clearly not going to give these people what they wanted and they were too drunk to concentrate on something with such a narrative through line (and which to be honest doesn't have many traditional jokes)
These days in nearly all performance situations people have paid to come and see me and whether they are familiar with my work or not are usually aware that it's a show with a theme, rather than a random collection of gags. In this case, at least a section of the audience had come wanting stand-up and I wasn't going to deliver. This will probably never happen to me again.
I got a little snippy and said to the people who were talking, "This probably isn't what you want to see. It'll save us all a bit of time if you leave now too."
"No, no," said a short but stocky man near the front, "Don't be like that, we'll give it a chance. Don't get alll defensive."
"I'm not really begin defensive" I replied (I was being a bit defensive, though more resigned to the fact that this wasn't going to work for these people at least), "It's just not going to work for you if you talk all the way through it."
"We've paid to see this mate, get on with it."
"Look I'll happily give you the £3.50 back." He thought I was being rude to him, but I wasn't really. I just knew from experience that this wasn't going to work out and was trying to give it a chance.
He refused my offer and I started my observation about why the Greek gods are the only ones that make sense of the world. The talking and groaning contiuned. It wasn't the kind of evening they had hoped for. Some more people left.
Then about another minute in the guy and his party got up too. "I told you," I said, "if you'd just gone two minutes ago then you'd have got some money back as well."
I wasn't handling this very well, being overly grumpy about the fact that I felt like I was wasting my time. There didn't seem much point in doing the show to a crowd of people who didn't want to see it. But in hindsight I am annoyed with myself because there were about 60 people in and it was only the 20 at the front who were causing the trouble. But I was acting as if everyone was against me. I was visibly thrown and not performing well at all which didn't help.
The man became a little bit aggressive to me as I wished him a sarcastic good day. He came back and stood by me in the light and told me to stop bneing condescending. I was only being a bit condescending, but then I'm a comic and that is sort of my job in the situation.
In any other circumstance I would have been terrified of this bloke and worried that he might hit me. He might well have hit me. But being on stage gives you a confidence that kind of transcends normality and I faced up to him without any fear.
I was ungracious though and didn't really notice that other elements in the audience were supporting me in this struggle.
I ploughed on, but unlike yesterday there was little sparkle in my performance. I just wanted to get through it and go home. Again, I am annoyed that I acted so unprofessionally, and even though it may be understandable in the circumstances, it's still wrong of me to not give every show my best. Of course having people laughing at waht you're doing will lift a performance, whilst having people bamboozled and chatting or sitting in confused silence is inevitably going to make the gig harder. The CNPS stuff is the crux of the show, but if you don't get where it is coming from then it is a very bizarre form of entertainment.
More people left, "This is shit mate," said a middle-aged man as he passed in front of me. I made some snotty comment about him being not clever enough to understand what I was doing. I was handling this really badly and had let it all get to me. This kind of thing happens sometimes, but I was annoyed with myself for handling it badly.
I ploughed on although a lot of the stuff played to silence there was a core of people enjoying it. But my resolve and my confidence was a bit shot and whilst yesterday I could ad-lib through the unwritten bits because the audience was with me, tonight I was pretty uninspired.
I was only upset with myself for not handling things better. If I'd had this gig last Sunday it might have destroyed my confidence in the show. But I know it will work fine with an audience that have some idea what to expect. And I know that I can't afford to be complacent and have a hell of a lot to still do.
Having walked around Aldershot before the gig I had sense a strange atmosphere not unlike the one I'd experienced in the karoake bar on Brighton pier. It was Friday night and people were out on the streets, determined to get pissed and try to make the most of the week being over. But there was a desperation, hostility and frustration to it even at this early stage of the evening. It's Friday night, this is what is expected of us, this is what we are going to have to do. It felt like an entire town hoping for a fuck, but spoiling for a fight. The town was resigned to the fact that the fuck wasn't going to happen, so was already steeling itself for the ruck that would act as its substitute. To such an extent that you felt that any fucking that did go on would be informed by this predeliction and be aggressive and loveless.
This green cloud hung over Aldershot like some kind of mind influencing gas from off of rubbish old Star Trek. And I must accidentally have carried some of it into the theatre with me that night as I sensed the same thing during my performance. Though it only seemed top affect the first three rows - the people towards the back seemed to be free from its influence.
I am a lucky man as much as my job is difficult and depressing at times, I don't get to the end of the week and have the same kind of urgency to blot everything out and release five days worth of pressure and frustration.
So hopefully the angry men in my audience managed to release some of their pressure by taking things out on me, which hopefully meant that one less face was punched in Aldershot last night. And maybe that any love-making that went on had a little more sensitivity.
Though thinking about it most of them were probably too drunk to get it up.
Imagine if I'd managed to say all that in response to their heckles. I'd have looked like a god. Rather than a stuck-up patronising curmudgeon.
You live and learn.
