Regression

July 13, 1993. I got to meet Julia Sawalha, whom, at the time, I idolised beyond belief. My room at my parents' house is still decorated by Press Gang posters, which I won't quite let them take down yet. I thought Julia was brilliant. Meeting her was the most exciting thing that had ever happened in my 13 year-old life. I met her at a very rainy open-air production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and - because my dad had written to Julia on my behalf ahead of the play - I was allowed "backstage" to the dressing tent to meet the lady herself.

I think the only words I said were, "Hello." If memory serves, Julia was very sweet and tried hard to make conversation with me. I pretty much ignored her and left the area as soon as I could. I was utterly, utterly tongue-tied.

Now, of course, pretty much exactly 13 years later to the day, I am a mature, talkative individual.

Except last night I went to a comedy gig with a friend over in West London. The gig was mostly very good - a preview of the Edinburgh show of Richard Herring (who does an excellent blog at http://www.richardherring.com/warmingup - very much the kick up the arse I needed to start this Plog.)

As an aspiring comic myself, I do make the effort to try and tell people when I've enjoyed their stuff. I find it rewarding when people tell me they've enjoyed my set. Richard was hanging round in the bar afterwards chatting to punters... but suddenly I became that 13 year-old again. Well, not literally. Firstly, that would have been more of an event to talk about than a comedy gig. ("Last night some weirdy magic happened and I woke up this morning without breasts!") And secondly the bar staff would have probably thrown me out. But I was completely tongue-tied. Couldn't think of anything to say other than I'd enjoyed the show. So I said that. And then left, kicking myself for being slightly socially inept.

Put me in a room full of people I've never met before, and I'm more than happy to chat away, start conversations going, mess around. It's not at all a star-struck thing - I'm not at all impressed by anything like that - never have been. But put me in a room with one person whom I quite respect, and suddenly I have fewer social skills than a 14 year-old computer geek from Coalville.

Weird freaky connection of the day? Many moons ago, apparently Julia Sawalha used to go out with Richard Herring. (Cue spooky music.)

Anyway - unbiased view of the gig... I do really go for cerebral comedy, and Richard Herring certainly leans towards the cerebral. The schadenfreude gag was excellent, though and went down well with what seemed to be a fairly bright audience. If he has a failing as a stand-up, it's his audience interaction. He does make (piercing) eye contact with the front row, and talks to them... But it's more "at" them, picking up on imagined reactions. "Oh, you tutted at that, didn't you?" when no tut was forthcoming, or picking on people unnecessarily. The audience was very well-behaved - not a heckle all night, and yet he seemed to decide the audience were hostile, and it was a bit uncomfortable watching audience members being picked on for no good reason. Different styles of comedy, of course, but unless someone's heckling me / being a pain in the arse, I try and make friends with the audience - make it a bit more inclusive. I felt that was lacking a bit here, and isolated the audience a bit. As his persona on stage is likeable (with a comedic streak of paedophilia / racism / homophobia), the belittling of audience members didn't sit neatly with this.

Still - I laughed out loud a few times, and I'm a hardened comedy cynic. There was an excellent routine on potatoes and some very clever comedy around the (ironically-delivered) idea of disenfranchising stupid people. Of course, I'd turned into a 13-year-old by then, and so didn't understand most of the big words.

The friend I was with said it had been the best gig they'd ever seen, so can't say fairer than that. I'll certainly try and see it in Edinburgh this year - I love watching how shows evolve.

By the way, how come West London is so much nicer than East London? I've been conned!