Stand-up? Sit-down!
A very strange thing happens to me when I do stand-up - the desire for love and attention from an audience overcame when I eventually got there. Blackheath is a very long way from North London - I can't ever remember what I said. What I like about A's evening, is that the sound guy tapes it, so afterwards I can always listen to myself, which is quite useful. And I'm much, much better when I just take a risk and say whatever comes into my head; when I'm totally prepared and planned and it's joke 129 followed by off-the-cuff comment 76 it's funny, sure, because I know the gags work, but it doesn't have that same energy and edginess.
Unfortunately, the sound guy's car broke down, but I asked a friend to write down a couple of key words from each story, and this morning I looked at her list of fortyish words, and I'm thinking "that worked" or "that wasn't so good." It's better than a tape, because I don't have to wait a couple of weeks to get my edited bit.
Want to know what I said? A mix of this, this and this, and some stories about going through Israeli security when I was a kid, telecoms habits of the urban middle-classes, the similarity between gaydars and jewdars, strip-tease artists.... OK, I'll stop now.
In the interval, I overhead two guys talking. One said to the other: "oh, they're very middle class. Went straight to central heating." Did not pass go? Did not collect one hundred pounds? Where is central heating, anyway? On the northern line?
OK, I really will stop now.
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