Wolves and Ducks

Today's blog comes to your face direct from EAT in Birmingham centre. Oh yes, I blog from all the classy locations. See me as your blog version of Alan Wicker, giving you in words small glimpses of the exotic world around us, that you, the ordinary punter may not get to see on your menial scummy living budget. To boast even more, sitting opposite me is the lovely Helen Arney (who was nearly Carol Vorderman but she's not bitter) who I made get up at 9am this morning to drag along to a children's show I was doing, despite my gig with her not being till the evening. The other alternative was to leave her stranded in London with high train fares to tonight's show and so saying she had an option is like saying Sophie took too long over her choice. This is, yet again, another day that my half closed eyes show the world that I do silly things for money. Yesterday I took to stage infront of 1500 people dressed as a wolf and proclaiming to be a undercover woodland detective for a whole 60 seconds, and on this Friday my afternoon started with a small 6 year old boy called Adnav telling me I look like a duck. This was then justified by a girl called Shania telling me I was at least a deformed duck, and me eliciting a confused noise response proving I had no clue if this made anything in the slightest better. I honestly don't know if it did. I like to think she meant a duck that was so deformed it looked like a small bearded man, but there is a chance that she just meant that not only did I look like a duck, but one with a gammy leg and a smashed in face. This is definitely a way to lift the day.

Last night was an odd one too. I haven't felt stressed about a gig in a long time and yet as it dawned on me that I would be taking part in Comedy Rush a show featuring 60 acts all doing a 1 minute set each, I started to worry about what I would be doing. This is a hugely ridiculous thing to worry about. I can do hour shows, how on earth can one 60th of that worry me so much? But it did. And it worried everyone backstage too. Having to prepare a minute is terrifying. How can you cram what's needed to entertain an audience, especially a large one at the Shaftsbury Theatre at that, in a mere 60 seconds? I realised that had I been an open spot this probably would have been easy. Those first days of struggling to write a 5 minute set would've had me on that stage with a well prepared minute with ease. Of course it wouldn't have been funny. Nor would have been well performed, with my younger self probably shaking with nerves for that whole brief amount of time to the extent people would have witnessed merely a blur shuffle across the stage. But now, with two hours shows under my belt - not literally. It would make my trousers very uncomfortable - and more material on top of that, a minute seemed just bonkers. Luckily I chose, with help from Rohan to do a character and so romped onstage in my big blue wolf onesi and called people 'slags'.

I don't really remember it, as the minute flew by, but it seemed to get work. My only fleeting memory is noticing just how comfortable it was to be onstage in my onesi and I worry this will now become somewhat of a habit. I'm all for comfortable gigs - one of my favourites was the Twitter Comedy Club where I sat at home in my PJs drinking a cuppa soup while typing. So maybe this now will be the way forward? How better to make an audience relax too, then make them all wear onesis? Hmm, although they may get too comfy and have a snooze. There's definitely something here. I feel inventiveness for the sake of laziness coming on. I will ignore the fact that organising a onesi based gig will take more effort than the comfort gained for wearing one and so technically put my chillaxing state into negative gain. Wow, that last sentence surprised me too. Anyway, ultimately yesterday eve was much much fun and it was great watching all the other acts try their different things from sketch and street performance to some very sharp gags from people like Mike Wozniak and Hal Cruttenden. All I know though, is that I was the only one dressed as a wolf, and one day, I'll work out if that was a good or bad thing. Either way, its still better than being a deformed duck.