The White Belly at the Underbelly where I have performed for the last four years has never been a cold room. There have been times when it has been as hot as a sauna and last year, when it was wet, conditions got very unpleasant. But I don't think I've ever been as hot in there as I was tonight. I actually thought I might faint at some points and I made a lot of unforced errors and slurs and stutters just because, as far as I can surmise, my brain was actually boiling in my skull. It was genuinely grueling to get through it all.
The crowd were equally affected by the sweltering temperature and being trapped in this airless box and were soporific and less responsive than usual. It was a shame because I had been really feeling up for it before the gig and there was a row of three major critics towards the back (I hope they didn't crib off each other) and yet I was having to fight for every word.
I made a good crack of it given the conditions though, doubling up my energy in places, though hitting too fast a pace as a result. The roar at the end suggested that the audience had enjoyed it more than me and my manager Jon seemed happy, but I was annoyed that I hadn't been able to give the best performance possible. I had had to stop to take off my jacket and loosen my tie about halfway through. I had not wanted to do that, partly because I am enjoying wearing the suit and partly because I knew my sweat soaked shirt would be stuck to my pasty skin. I got some ironic wolf whistles.
I think if animals were kept in this condition that someone would be sent to prison and it's a shame to have to be contending with such things when the show is hard enough to do anyway, and when I also have to cope with things like tiredness and hangovers, that are admittedly of my own making. A woman had fainted in one of the other venues in the building today and I wonder if at some point this heat and airlessness might have more serious consequences than throwing a performer off his or her stride. I have visions of some tech coming into an oddly still and quiet room to find everyone dead in their seats, their rictus grins frozen on their faces, their faces starting to melt like so many Nick Griffins.
I did make a small comment about the venue possibly doubling as a gas chamber.
My expectations and standards for my show and myself are high and I want it to be as good as possible every night and I felt a little bit blue afterwards and perhaps anxious whether the reviewers would make concessions for the heat, but also completely wiped out. More like I had been working in a mine shaft than talking on stage for an hour.
I sat in a stupor in the beer garden with some friends, unable to join in too much, a bit overwhelmed by the experience. I hope the audience felt the show was worth the discomfort and will do my best to find some way round this. I might be forced to have a fan on during the show, which I fear will be distracting and only offer the hope of succour, without achieving too much, constantly reminding people of how hot they are.
But then my sweating face and body probably does that too.
I went for some late pasta at Bar Napoli. This was probably a bad idea on some levels, but the carbohydrate energy roused me and my spirits considerably. As did the fact that when I entered the restaurant the waiter did an ostenatious Seig Heil. I guess he was taking the chance that I was a performer. We laughed about it. It was good.
And the food was again excellent and just what was required.
I doubt I am going to lose weight this Fringe.
And I don't think I have too much to worry about. The word on the street is good and the reviews I've had have been excellent. There were three in today (that I saw). Dominic Cavendish will probably not be giving me the worst comedy experience of 2009 award.
The review was good, though I think played up the controversial elements more than it needed too and annoyingly gives away jokes. I also got 4 stars in
The List and
on the Time Out website with very pleasing reviews.
So I shouldn't be moaning at all. I have also sold out every night so far (which has never happened to me before) and tomorrow is already full up too and I am pretty much ecstatic. Even though the inevitable insecure and arrogant dictatorial part of my brain protests that there is still a star missing from each of them!
But how I would have killed for a start like this at any of my previous Fringes. There is of course good and bad luck about when critics come to see you. Maybe only I can really see the difference between one of the electric shows and the ones that feel like they're taking place in an electric fire.
And more competing posters are getting the Hitler treatment. This one, from @GordonHodgson,
is my favourite so far, but
this one also has a certain charm, the military theme perhaps heightening the humour. And as my own picture shows, Denise Van Outen is a particularly popular target. They should all be proud. They are doing their bit to defeat fascism and the BNP.
Oh yes and on Wednesday at midday, @CollingsA and myself will be attempting a live podcast on Twitter. You can follow the action at #chpod, but please so not use that hashtag during the podcast or it will ruin all the sense. If it becomes unworkable we will have to call a halt to it. If you want to make comments as we go then I will be checking #candh so use that hashtag if you wish. But it would be nice if we could get through it all with an uninterrupted conversation. Not sure how long it will last or if it will work, but hope you'll come along for the ride.
