stand-up

A few words on the subject

Like almost nobody else of my generation, I grew up wanting to be Ben Elton. In some senses, anyway.

I didn’t want to wear sparkly suits, big plastic yuppie glasses, grow to be a much derided public figure, inflict tourist-trap musical theatre, go on to knock-out thin, annual Daily-Mail baiting Christmas novels called “Flavour Of The Month”, “Recent Headline Scare” and “Bandwagons” and have my inevitable move from young free-wheeling lefty idealist to middle-English family man hailed as a “hypocritical sell-out.”

No. I wanted to be a stand-up comedian and comedy writer.

I can recall pacing my bedroom floor listening to my brother’s Ben Elton tapes (“Motormouth” and “Motorvation”, plus the Comic Relief recording back when that was funny) learning the routines by heart. And I mean by heart. To the point where a school-chum quoted “nothing open’s a dogs arse faster than a hand stitched pair of Guccis”, and I, with punchable smugness, politely corrected it to “pair of hand-stiched Guccis.”

I know, I know.

Anyhoo growing up as I did between 1980-1990 Ben Elton was comedy. Dad liked Dave Allen and Jasper Carrot of course, and we all mutually enjoyed reruns of The Two Ronnies. But “Friday/Saturday Night Live” was where it was at and I devoured every line of Fry & Laurie, Mayall & Edmonson, Enfield, French & Saunders, Emo Philips, Steven Wright, The Oblivion Boys, Craig Charles, Chris Barrie, Raw Sex, Dodger, Bonzo and the rest.

Howe’er, it wasn’t until I dropped out of college in 1992, was diagnosed with depression, started seeing a psychotherapist and spending endless long days watching Countdown, the International Chess Championships (c’mon Nigel Short), and eating my bodyweight in brown toast that it occurred to me to nervously take to the stage myself.

First gig – The VD clinic, Hampstead. Feb 28th 1993. Aged 20.

Went on after a local comedian who popped down to try out some stuff – Rob Newman. Luckily he was winging it somewhat and I had honed my material (Big Issue, TV adverts, Pop Tarts, Dinosaurs and bad puns) to an inch of its life.

Absolutely stormed it and embarked on a burgeoning stand-up career with Edinburgh in my sights and a national tour on my mind.

Until…

45 gigs later.

Downstairs at The Kings Head. 1995. Supporting Rich Hall.

Died on my arse and swore I’d never spend an evening having my self esteem pummelled to crap by a pub-room full of drunk boorish strangers again.

Hung up my microphone and never went back.

Have no idea what brought me back. The passing of twelve years had something to do with it I suppose. I was living in Cardiff, had just had my third novel rejected by Random House and was working for the nice people at Legal & General.

P’raps it was that feeling of getting old, of being a 35 year old call-centre Team Manager with nowt but a handful of dropped projects to show for myself. Or maybe it was the feeling of going to bad comedy clubs and thinking “damn, it should be me up there,” rosily-remembered nostalgia.

But more likely it was having opportunity shoved at me when Dan Thomas, another L&G staff member, took over a local comedy night at Chapter Arts Centre, 35 seconds from my front door and a pal of his told me he was looking for comics.

Yeah, probably that, let’s face it.

Comedy was no longer Ben Elton and Eddie Izzard of course, as it had been when I’d given it a goodbye kiss and left it on the dock. Name dropping Emma Thompson and Tony Slattery wasn’t opening the doors it used to. Sweeney & Steen had become nostalgia. Tony Hawks was writing travelogues. Alexie Sayle had gone off to become the grouchiest, bitterest man in comedy history. Lord, where was Sean Hughes when I needed him?

Well I pulled together 10 mins of stuff, hit the boards, and it all came flooding back.

The Cardiff comedy scene is very much up and coming and I attempted to gig as much as I could, most opportunities provided by comic Dans Thomas & Mitchell.

I don’t know if I can say I was serious about it. I suppose I was, much in the same way I am serious about anything during the 6 intense, plan-filled, ambition-fuelled days it’s occupying my head.

A dozen appearances followed (including compare spots and a self penned sketch that went on too long) before I upped sticks and moved to London, heart full of hope that – my comedy chops warmed, grilled and smothered with Reggae Reggae sauce – I would be prepared to take the London Stand-Up scene by storm.

One gig to date. Hmm.

My notes made on the night.

15th December 2008

Comedy Spot Drop In Night – The Exhibit, Balham Stn Road Balham.

A few words on...

Stand-up

The collected

ill-informed drivel

Richard Asplin

(take two 2007-2008)

Over ran. Did about 10-15, longer than anyone else. Other comic had been blanked off with a lights-down, but I wasn’t. Good sign? Or longer running time available. No real response from the comics. PJ made reference to how I was Mark Lamarr in much better shape. And how Mark Lamarr is a cunt.

Approached PJ after set, asked him what he thought. He said I was doing his act. From this I guess he meant “middle aged man crises” humour, rather than actually his jokes.

PJ suggested I come down on Sunday to the next gig at another venue and he would comp’ me in. Don’t know why. Just to fill the room? Need to find out whether I can do this / where gig is etc.

Very strange. Had built this one up in my mind as my “comeback.” Deliberately only chose material that has worked in the past – although in hindsight, Trevor McDonald stuff has only ever killed in Sharon’s lounge. NEVER got the response it deserves.

Really hoped to rip it up among novice tryouts and impress the comics/audience/organiser.

Came off quite shaken at lengthy silences and lack of reaction.

Jennifer said my set was just very unexpected. I had “energy” on stage and it was like a “proper” set, possibly why it got a quiet reaction.

But surely laughter is involuntary. Quiet surely means “not funny” in a club? Other comedians in a clique? Who’s this new boy with all his confidence? No camaraderie afterwards. No backslapping or advice.

Gave name to Mark, other stand-up, who would facebook me. So far, a day later, nothing.

Did the best I could with my best stuff, but just couldn’t get a response.