Last night's gig was... an experience. Being a lovely person and unwilling to sully the names of any of my comedy comrades, I shan't drop anyone in it. Suffice to say the evening involved two large placards, a last minute dash for a) other acts b) an MC and c) a headliner, a punter who claimed he'd been to lesbian speed dating, soy sauce and a punch-up. Just your average Saturday night at the Bath House.
Why not see if you can come along next time? Believe me, you'll never forget it. Trust me, I've tried.
8 comments:
Indeed it was rather good. I approved. And even chuckled. Chuckled like a man who appreciated chortling. Chortle, chortle, chortle. Etc. Anyway, it was good. I approved. Also, you're a damn tricky woman to track down.
Glad you enjoyed the Bath House gig... If you want to track me down, why didn't you come and say hi then?
Do I owe you money?
You don't owe me money as such...though you could answer me on why the second person on literally told about 3 jokes then shut up shop. Considering how long the first guy, yours and the women at the end's sets were, it baffles me that she pretty much said "Hello. Why did the chicken cross the road? What? You've already heard it? Oh. Night."
Also, I would have said congrats (if that's what you're meant to say to comedians. I don't know, there might be something more polite to offer. Such as gold. Or geese.) but as I was leaving after your set to go to the toilet you were a)looking busy trying to put on your zippy top thing, b)looking a bit grumpy trying to put on your zippy top thing and c)I needed the toilet.
Ah... Answers as requested:
- Sam's set was shorter because she's a brand new comic. When you start out, you generally only do a 5-min set, progressing to 10, then 15 and then when you get super-good (like Juliet who was on at the end), you get to do 20. It was only Sam's 4th gig and I thought she did rather well.
- Don't get me geese. I live in a flat and have nowhere to keep them. Gold would be OK. £20 notes even better.
- I am never grumpy. I am the very essence of good humour. But if I was putting my zippy top on, I was probably a bit on the chilly side. Chilly can look a bit like grumpy to the untrained observer.
So... you're tracking me down... why? Are you a lawyer for a very rich dead relative, whom I didn't know existed, and you now want to give me geese and gold?
Responses to answers
-Ah yes, that'd make more sense. More sense than my thoughts that she decided half way through to retire from comedy and just say "ta ta".
-If you're going to be fussy about gifts, you will receive nothing except some mammoth tusks which aren't, strictly speaking, easy to get from A to B.
-Chilly. I see. Always moaning, that's your problem.
As for tracking you down, this is due to me liking your stuff and wishing to see you, possibly, do the same jokes again. Has this made you paranoid enough to keep everything mega fresh now in case I turn up? What do you mean you don't care of my opinion? Sob...
However, due to your wish for more money, I have a plan. Get a £10 note. It is a £10 note. Now cut it up into 100 pieces. Now a shopkeeper will say, "That is not a ten pound note. That is a pile of rubbish". You say "But no! If I take apart a car engine, is that not still a car engine? If I deconstruct the human body, is that not still a human body except it has been stripped down to its constituent parts?" The shopkeeper will say "Ah yes, wise comedian woman, you are correct" and will accept your fraction of a tenner as a whole in payment for, let us say, £10 worth of monkey droppings. Repeat this shopkeeper-befuddlement process for every fraction of your original £10 and you have conjured up £1000 out of nearly nothing.
Should do the trick.
God, I should really do some work...
I'm guessing you don't work as a successful counterfeiter.
In reality I don't really work. Well, I'm contracted to and I turn up...but that's pretty much where my working life ceases to even pretend to be as important as everyone elses.
Aha! You're Ken Livingstone, and I claim my twelve gringots.
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