I'm reading
The Damned United by David Peace. As you know I am not massively into football, but this is still a fascinating and gripping read. Brian Clough was an amazing character, uncompromising, annoying, obsessive, operating in the shadows of what may have been illegal and didn't mince his words. If you had to deal with me on a day to day basis I imagine that you wouldn't like him too much and yet he is a hero, with a
dual carriageway named after him. This novel entirely captures what is infuriating and magnificent about him and it's utterly exhilarating. I used to support Leeds United as a kid, again from a distance, though I did see them draw 2-2 with Bristol City on one occasion, with my mum and dad petrified that we'd be beaten up as we were in amongst the home supporters - I had to keep my Leeds badge hidden under my coat in case some City fans wanted to vent their fury on a 9 year old boy. But all the names of the Leeds footballers are very familiar to me and it's interesting to see what was going on behind the scenes - though this is a novel, there is clearly a lot of research in there and I suspect a lot of it is true.
You should definitely read this book. Or you could just wait for the upcoming film. Brian Clough is my hero. I think I want to be him.
Last night I gigged in Palmers Green and had more trouble from persistent hecklers, who came close to ruining the night. I knew I was in trouble as I waited in the bar and a very drunk woman staggered out of the venue wanting to go for a smoke. She swayed from side to side and slurred at everyone she encountered. She went outside but came back in again when she realised that she hadn't got a cigarette. Why do people this drunk come to gigs? She had been chipping in already apparently and it had been manageable but I was aware that by the time I was on she'd be that bit more drunk... I wasn't looking forward to it.
She saw me sitting alone in the bar - "Are you the rest of the acts manager?" she asked.
"No," I curtly responded.
"What just a hanger on then?"
"Yes, that's right." I was pretty sure that she wouldn't recognise me once I was on stage.
But it amused the barman that she had failed to realise I was the headliner.
Once I got on and she predictably started shouting out at the end of every feed line, destroying the rhythm and making it impossible for me to finish practically any of my gags I told the audience of the encounter. "I knew I was in trouble when she started heckling me before I was even in the gig. Subtly undermining me. "Are you the rest of the acts' dad? Waiting to pick them up?" I slurred, parodying her and myself. It was quite good fun for the moment and I incorporated her, but the audience were tiring of the interruptions, especially as I had to jettison every joke I had begun. Luckily I was being pretty funny. A rather chunky woman had the audacity to suggest as I was doing the "enemy's enemy" joke, that my enemy was my stomach. I let her know about her hypocrisy telling her that I just hoped she was pregnant. Minutes later the original drunken woman also called me fat. "I've been doing my best to diet since the last comment, but I am not sure there's been enough time for it to make a difference."
It was all quite jolly and funny for the first few minutes, but then the wheels started falling off. It was just too annoying, but I managed to persuade the drunken woman to leave, at least temporarily. After all everyone else wanted to see the comedy and she wasn't being funny, only slightly tragic and I berated her husband for allowing her to make such a prick of herself.
Once she'd gone I launched into another joke, thinking I'd at least get through this one unhindered. It does terrible things to your ability to get the timing right if you think someone is going to shout out in any gap you leave. I did the gag about being 18 and wanting to sleep around with everyone, then getting a bit older and realising it's better to be in a long term exclusive relationship. This is the lead up to a rather nice turnaround where I reveal basically that you then get a bit older and realise you were right first of all. It's one of my bankers and gets a good laughter of recognition, which I enjoy because I imagine that many people are sitting with their long time partners, involuntary laughing at the truth contained with in it and then having to check themselves to avoid an argument later. But this time I got to through the feedline, left a pause for effect, and then the second drunken woman shouted, "Yes, but we all know that."
Was I even going to be able to get through a joke in my 20 minutes? I explained that maybe I might not be coming on just to make factual statements and that possibly a joke had been coming. The second drunk woman had said she'd thought the other woman was funnier than me and that she'd rather see her on stage. I said I'd be more than happy to give her my fee and put it to the audience for a vote. Luckily, the rest of the crowd, not quite as drunk, were able to realise that a woman shouting non-sequitirs was unlikely to be that amusing and my second heckler was in a minority of one.
I managed to soldier on and give the people of Palmer's Green some actual material. I had done as well as was possible with these hecklers, but there comes a point where there's nothing you can do. I ended up doing 40 minutes, hopefully giving the majority value for money.
These club gigs can be tough and sometimes I wonder if I should carry on with them or just concentrate on my own shows. But it's gigs like these that are making me a better comedian and although too many are spoiled by people who are too drunk to function, most of them are rather more enjoyable.
Like Brian Clough, my hero, I have to take the rough with the smooth and keep my faith throughout the hard times. Sometimes you can be best at what you do and not get the recognition you deserve, but if you stick at it and keep grafting then maybe one day you'll get a dual carriageway named after you. It's all I aspire to.
