"Up the Creek" in Greenwich is a legendary comedy venue,
set up by the late great Malcom Hardee. I remember playing here in the early 1990s as an open spot, scared due to its reputation as a home to the best and most brutal hecklers in London. I was also somewhat in awe of Malcom himself,
who had of course been involved in my early humiliations, even though I was sure he wouldn't recognise me. I think I did OK on one occasion, but at least once I fell to the might of an audience who would not let any chink in confidence go unpunished. Ah, heady days of terror and failure.
I was less scared tonight, having played the venue recently and all having gone well. Weirdly Malcom made his prescence felt, as the MC Mark Watson started dicking around behind the curtain at the back of the stage and partially revealed the cartoon picture of Mr Hardee that was hid behind the red velvet. So he was kind of peeking out at me throughout my bit, which felt appropriate.
The place was pretty full and I sensed it was the kind of crowd that would listen to more protracted ideas and I was a little fed up of the easy set of sex gags that I had trotted out four times in the previous two nights, so decided to do some stuff that I thought was funny, but that was more of a risk in the stand up environment, namely the Rudyard Kipling and yoghurt material. It all seemed to go pretty well and it felt good to take command in this room where in the past I had been left drowning in waves of derision. But about fifteen minutes into the yoghurt stuff a section of the audience were finding themselves disenchanted and a few voices of protest started rising up amongst the general laughter and enjoyment. Though the heckles were not vintage Up the Creek, they were at least notable for their quirkiness - "Is your hair laminated?" was, I think, one question (it might have been lacquered, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't). I don't think my hair looks particularly laminated or lacquered and nor it seems did the rest of the crowd, so the only response seemed to be, "No.... is yours?" A democratic poll revealed that the protestors were in a tiny minority and the support for my boring yoghurt story was reassuringly vociferous. It's so great to play to a comedy literate audience who at least appreciate when someone is taking a risk and trying something different. I have found that in the last few months my confidence with dealing with hecklers (which I take on with gusto and relish - accusing the group of dissenters of being the lowest commone denominator and thus being responsible for the continued success of
Bo 'Selecta, which got a gratifyingly big response. I am also taking more risks and departing from the script a lot more and generally finding that the stuff I am making up is going as well (if not better, people love it when you improvise, giving the skill, I believe, a disproportionate amount of respect).
There was an amazing atmosphere in the room and to come here, headline and retain control, whilst still having to deal with the notorious crowd was exhilirating and exciting. I still don't feel that I am a real stand up comedian (no doubt partly due to all the history that you will have read about if you go back over those links), but on a night like tonight it seems like I am getting close. Even when I stumbled over a put down saying that if you want to be taking seriously as a heckler you should bring your own amplification equipment and show a bit of "profissionalism" instead of "professionalism, I managed to cover by saying that was the word I meant to use. It meant provisional professionalism. Ah this job is fun. I hope I can continue to get better at it.
