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Showing posts from May, 2016

In Summary.

...and so another month passes.  I can't believe it's nearly June. Where does the time go (and all those other such things that old people say)? May's a key month for me, as both my wife's and my birthday fall within it. It's also when the Brighton Festival takes place, which I usually rock up to; either on my own or with Glyn. It's a month I'm very aware of and never expect to actually be, in the same way a child might think Christmas won't come around.  I should go to bed, but my cat's sleeping on my lap as I write. She's been a little edgy all day, so I'm loath to move her, now she's finally settled down. She often brings me comfort, so I like to give her comfort too. Having said that, she just yawned and leapt off me in the direction of the kitchen; so much for comfort: she just wants food.  I should go to bed before it gets late. So long May 2016; you were fair-to-middling. Let's make June a little better, yeah?

Four Legs Good.

I took my wife to The Gate restaurant in Islington yesterday for a birthday treat, and ate enough food to risk a Mr Creosote-like explosion before I left. The Gate is notable for its – shock horror – solely vegetarian menu, but what a menu it is. Everything was lovely, without a hint of something lacking, like your more staunch meat-eaters might assume. A non-fussy carnivore probably wouldn’t even notice. Either way, it was perfect for pescatarian me and herbivore her, for whom the ability to order anything was a novelty. It was the first time we'd ever been to a vegetarian restaurant, save a quick lunch in a veggie café in a monkey sanctuary near Looe. It was nothing like the negative mental image it may create (the restaurant; not the zoo). It wasn’t poncy or 'try-hard' and there was plenty of flavour-filled variety. I’d recommend it to everyone, except my mum, who’d struggle, unless she could smuggle in a slab of gammon in her handbag (which she probably

In Someone - Anyone's - Inner Ear.

Last night's episode of In Your Inner Ear was one of our best, in my opinion, but did anyone hear it? It helped that we'd recorded a programme a couple of days previously, so we were sufficiently warmed up. We'd made a conscious decision to take our time and be clearer with our delivery, which was an improvement. It's fair to say that twenty-seven episodes in - an impressive feat in and of itself - we've found our groove, resulting in a show that's fun to listen to and fun to do; I just can't help but feel the energy's a little wasted if only a few people tune in. We have a history of taking on projects with little direct gain. That doesn't mean these things weren't worth doing - we're always learning - but I think we are far better at what we do than our slow-burning career as a double act attests.  Most of this is due to lack of time and focused effort; if we'd concentrated on one thing, rather than entrepreneurising (is that a word?

Always Look on the Shite Side of Life.

I'm finding meditation invaluable at the moment, when it comes to settling my frantic brain. Another thing I apply in huge doses is selective deafness. While there have been a lot of positive advances in my work and with my attitude this year, the first half of 2016 hasn’t been without its setbacks. There are plenty of niggles that could overshadow the good stuff if I let them. Take last week’s run on the Brighton Fringe: on the plus side, it was a huge advancement on the show I wrote and performed there the previous year. My first extended foray into solo stand-up was understandably tentative and careful, whereas this year’s show is already more confident, more varied and – I think – funnier than the one before. I’m prouder and more sure about it, despite my inbuilt and instinctive insecurities with what I do – yet sadly, no-one reviewed it thus far. Consequently, I’m set to enter my first solo Edinburgh Fringe with a couple of scathing reviews still lurking at the to

Fully Booked.

The past couple of evenings I've walked to my local pub, to sit outdoors with my book and a ginger beer, and take a moment to destress.  It actually felt like something of a luxury. While I love reading, and tend to always have a book on the go, I'd been going through a faze with my current one, where I'd always start it when I was too tired to take it in; giving in after a couple of pages.  I'm not always like this. I'll occasionally devour a book in a few quick sittings, but this hasn't been of the case of late, due to my Brighton show prep. Every day, I'd do my best to be brave and tackle it, but I was too sleepy to compute the details. It wasn't grabbing me, as I'd never give it time to draw me in.  Taking it to the pub garden yesterday in the early evening made the world difference. It suddenly went from a string of seemingly unrelated words to a narrative. Conversely, it also helped my brain to switch off, as I had a story to invest in.  I

"You Can't Dust For Vomit"

Tonight, for the third Friday running, I went to London's Prince Charles Cinema on Leicester Square for one of their "beer and pizza" screenings; this week's film was the subtle mockumentary classic 'This is Spinal Tap' (I'd include the umlaut above the N, if my phone would let me.) Spinal Tap, like Withnail and I, is infamous amongst the touring actor / musician scene. I'd heard most of the quotable lines long before I'd actually seen it. I can remember my long lost actor friend Richard Doubleday, who I haven't seen in ages, schooling me in how to look up at the flies in disdain as the tiny sign reading 'Rock 'n' Roll Heaven' flew in at the end of the show of the same name ,which was my professional debut, in tribute to the Stonehenge sequence. It was unprofessional, but if we hadn't done it, it would have been an opportunity missed.  It's a strange film to see amongst an audience, as the dialogue's so subtle and

Who's Better, Who's Best?

A while ago, I heard Paul McCartney describe the lyric "everybody else is busy doing better than me" from his recent song 'Alligator' in an interview as being a comment on how he'll often look at how his work is perceived in comparison to others and be frustrated by it. I find this incredibly comforting. If a man who's achieved so much can look at his work and find it wanting, then we're allowed to do it too. It's a part of human nature, magnified by our current Facebook-and-Twitter culture. Everywhere we look, we're confronted by people presenting happier, more contented lives through their social media press releases; smearing Vaseline over the lens before they make their public broadcast. There's someone busy doing better than you, just a mouse-click away.  I wish I could remove myself from this unnecessary comparison and jealously, and see it for what it is: a falsity. But though I'm aware of all of it, I still do it. It's instinc

Doing Nowt.

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I didn't really achieve anything today, which is frustrating. As I intimated yesterday, it's strange to suddenly be in a position where I have less to do, in comparison to the mad panic dash that led to last week's shows in Brighton. That's not to say that I don't have things to be getting on with; I just feel a little purposeless compared to how things were in the last few weeks. At least I've managed to do more today than my cat. She has recently taken to sleeping on the chair closest to my living room window, after having been completely indifferent to it in previous months - and today, she's only really moved from it to (1) check on the food situation in the kitchen or (2) to pester me for some of what I'm eating. I know cats sleep more than most other species, but her lack of effort for anything has to be seen to be believed. She'd snore if she could muster up the energy.

"The World is Treating Me Bad: MISERY."

Today, I’m feeling a little despondent. I often get like this when I’ve finished working on something intensively. I find myself questioning why I did it in the first place and whether it had / has a purpose – so it’s no surprise that I feel this way this week after the frenetic build-up to last week’s Brighton run. I don’t want my feelings to be misunderstood. I’m very happy with how my new show is shaping up, and feel so much more content with my material and delivery, compared with that of my solo début last year. Working alone for the first time was a huge step I wasn’t sure I was up to back then, whereas now I know I am (or at least that’s how I feel if you catch me on a good day). Despite my more positive outlook this year, I’m still frustrated with the uphill struggle I find myself in. I had to cancel one of the four dates I’d booked last week due to an insufficient turnout. I’ve also yet to have any reviews surface, which is a pain,

IYIE #27

Tonight, I met with Glyn and Stephen to record Sunday's episode of our radio show In Your Inner Ear, barely minutes (or days) after we committed the last one to tape (or MP3).  Tonight's show felt considerably less frenetic than the previous one, largely due to us setting an intentionally slower pace. Glyn and I discussed this before Steve arrived; both of us feeling we could afford to sit back on our conversation, rather than racing ahead, as is our habit. We'd both listened to the last episode when it went out - and while we liked it, we were aware of the cross-talk that went on, particularly from the moment Steve joined us, when suddenly there were three people vying for space. Funnily enough, this was something our friend - and regularly IYIE listener - Glen Davies mentioned when we bumped into him immediately before recording. "I love how you all talk at once," he said. He meant it as a positive, but it's still not what we want.  It was nice in a way t

I Ain't Afraid of No Ghost (or of No Double Negatives)

Tonight, inspired by the impromptu quiz on Sarah Greene our In Your Inner Ear co-presenter Stephen Halliday set for me during the show that aired this evening (don't ask), I watched the infamous BBC quasi-documentary Ghostwatch.  I can clearly remember wanting - but not being brave enough - to watch it when it first went out in 1992. I was very into reading about the paranormal as a kid; an interest that was stoked by my one of my mum's friends, who lent me a lot of books on the subject. I think most children go through this stage: seeking out things that terrify them, then wishing they hadn't. It didn't help that the books I borrowed were pretty graphic, and written in the style of enclopedias that were recounting solid fact.  By the time I started secondary school at Thomas Alleyne in Stevenage, I'd sought out the ghost stories that were connected to it (it opened in 1558, so there were bound to be a few). I used to hang around the building The Grange next door,

IYIE #26

This afternoon, for the first time in the best part of a month, we recorded a new episode of 'Doggett & Ephgrave: In Your Inner Ear'.  It was nice to do a show after a surprisingly long hiatus. The topic for the evening was 'Heroes', which kindly holds the door open for next week's theme, which will be 'Villains". It's nice to be a few steps ahead for once, if only for a couple of days.  I'm having real trouble concentrating on writing my blog at the moment. I keep starting something late in the day , then trying to stave off sleep as I write it. This is no exaggeration: I literally nodded off during yesterday's post, which is why it made little sense this morning. Today is little better. I've just been overdoing it. Consequently, I could have done without the radio show today, so I could have more time to rest and recuperate. I keep nearly going under during this blog, so I'll keep it briefs (as with Gary Lineker / Leicester / Ma

Don't Call Me Shirley.

Tonight, I went to see the classic spoof film Airplane! at the Prince Charles Cinema.  Ir was a lot of fun. It was great to see it in a live setting, surrounded by a load of people who knew it inside out. It really suited being watched amongst an audience as it's the sort of film that's best enjoyed with other fans. It was reassuring to see how many other people of my age were drawn to the same sort of thing as children, and have memorised it ever since.  I took Steve with me, as a small thank you for his help with Brighton. It felt like an appropriate gift, as the film was right up both our street. It was a Beer & Pizza night, so it was watched to the sound of much slurping and masticating. Watching the film put me in the mood to watch Airplane II, which is special if only because it features William Shatner; any film with Bill amongst the cast is instantly lifted to classic status.  

Quadrant #4 (Sort of)

It made for an anti-climactic end to my Brighton run to finish with a 'no-show' today.  Well, technically it was a 'two-show', in the sense that two people turned up to see it (one of whom was a friend), but I wasn't going to put the three of us through such a tense experience. No-one wants to be one side of a comic-punter-punter triangle; it's a lose-lose-lose situation, whichever way you look at it.  Most frustratingly of all, we managed to fix our ongoing sound issues, so if we'd gone ahead there was a good chance that everything would have worked. I guess that's just the way it goes, though I'd sooner it didn't. I'd also set out to record tonight's show for reference, so it was a shame to have to abandon that too.  Instead, we made the best of a dissapointing situation by having a quick drink, watching Matt Green's show and then catching the train back to Hertfordshire. Watching the show made for some much needed light relief a

Quadrant #3

Well, tonight was exciting, though it could have been tragic.  That may be slightly melodramatic. Nobody died; just my computer, for a bit. I arrived at my venue in Brighton in good time and switched on my Mac, before setting to work at sorting out the sound set-up. I then returned to my laptop to plug it into the projector and the sound desk, to discover an ominous flashing question mark in place of the usual start-up screen. This suggested one of two things: either The Riddler was present, or my computer was buggered.  Glyn arrived a moment later - he'd come down to assist me, in place of Steve, who wasn't available (not that I wouldn't ask Glyn first) - and together we started to frantically Google in hope of some technological advice. After holding down various keys to no avail, we searched for the nearest Mac Store...and lo and behold, it was just minutes down the road. I rushed to the nearby shopping centre with my Mac under one arm and my wallet poised for imminent

Quadrant #2.

While I enjoyed tonight's show, it was marred slightly by irritating technical problems.  Well, this was how things felt from the inside looking out; my assistant Steve assured me it was good show and was well received, but it was frustrating to be constantly upstaged by electrical interference and dodgy mic connections getting in the way of the material - and all of this after being very thorough when setting up before to the show  Slideshow gags rely on precision timing (as poncy and self-serving as that sounds). You need to be able to trigger an audio-visual cue in an instant, without having to go off to adjust a level, or to take out a channel completely if it's interfering with everything else. I couldn't rely on this tonight; I had to keep dipping behind the curtain to the side of the stage to twiddle with knobs (*crass joke*) like a quasi-Wizard of Oz, to make things work. I also had to hold the mic with a specific unnatural grip to prevent it cutting out. This isn

Quadrant #1.

I enjoyed my first Brighton show tonight.  I arrived in town at around four-ish, with my (unpaid) assistant Stephen in tow, and made my way to the venue, laden down, as ever, with a mass of equipment. Rather fortuitously, my show is the first on every day, which is great, as it allows more time to wrestle with the - as usual - erratic technical set-up.  Minutes into the get-in , the comic who's assisting with the running of the space arrived to say the audio desk had blown out a week ago and has yet to be replaced; not the words you want to hear when your show is heavily technically reliant. She was the first to admit that she wasn't hugely tech-savvy, but between us - and with my reasonable sound knowledge (and experience of having to make gear function in a variety of bodged situations) - we managed to get the bare minimum to work. The only setback was the feed from my Mac would every so often emit a horrific foghorn-like sound that vibrated through the whole building, that

Tight As.

It's a little soul-destroying when you're about to start a week of traveling not sure how you're going to pay for it.  So much of being a performer is speculating to accumulate, along with budgeting for something to then get to it somehow unable to afford it. This can even be the case when you're doing the more standard fee-based stuff like touring; however much money you're meant to receive and however better off you're supposed to be after you've done the work never seem to tally. To say this is frustrating would be an understatement. It's far worse financially when you're working on self-produced stuff, like my stand-up show this week; even when under the helpful umbrella a Free Fringe venue, where the expenses are slashed. You go in with the mindset that just breaking even would be a dream. Then, to top it off, a negative review or a poor turn-out can make you question why you even did it in the first place, if only for a moment.  i'm sure

Toilet Training.

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I was just rushed out of a train toilet cubicle, because I was apparently taking too long.  Well, I say I was rushed out; in fact I wasn't. I stood my ground (except for being seated). I'd never realised there was a time limit. I hadn't been in there long before I heard the sound of a drunk impatient passenger waiting outside, with clearly the more important bladder of the two of us. He couldn't believe that someone else might need to use the facilities. After all, they'd been laid on for him. This man was the centre of the universe; when God needs to go, he needs to go.  Suddenly, the heat was on. This man had the full range of subtle tactics at his disposal. First came the single door-kick. Then the repeated hammering with his fists , closely followed by the shouted "Hurry up". This chap was a credit to society. If I weren't for the wood (or plastic?) between us, I would have kissed him on the lips.  The only thing he hadn't reckoned

Bonanza.

My dad told me today that my nan would have been 100 this weekend if she were still alive.  This seems hard to fathom; it certainly beats my personal milestone of turning 35. My nan was a lot of fun and we were very close. I have quite a few vivid memories of her, despite her passing away when I was very young. I used to follow her around her house and she used dote on me and encourage my creative whims. I was a big fan of Rod Hull & Emu at the time and desperately wanted an emu of my own (in a puppet sense), so she helped me make one, using a sparkly sequined blouse for the body and a pair of tights for the neck and head. It was surprisingly effective despite our limited means, and did the trick until my parents tracked down a proper puppet, which I think came from a friend (Bernie Clifton?). She also helped me finish off all of the chocolates from my advent calender in just one sitting; she was a bad, yet playful influence.  It's all about anniversaries at the moment. Tomo

Late Night Debrief.

All in all, I'm very happy with how tonight's preview went.  I feel there's the essence of an outline of a show forming from all the bits and pieces I'm trying out. I still struggle with trusting that things are funny, so can race over potential laughs, but that's par for the course when you're not actually sure where those laughs are yet. You've got to run the show in first, before you learn what you can take more time over.   I'm proud of myself for sustaining an hour of material in front of audience that were clearly there for the 'headliner', safe in the knowledge that the vast majority of the material is so very new. Dare I say it, I'm also starting to enjoy it. It's more my cup of tea than last year's show - and now I've taught myself that I don't need to try so hard to be different from what I do with Glyn, I'm starting to enjoy myself more . It's official: projection is allowed.  ...I sign off now, as it'

Bring it On.

I'm in the slightly strange position of quite looking forward to tomorrow's work-in-progress set at Mostly Comedy.  In many ways, things are stacked against my favour. It's a nigh-on certainty that the majority of people will have booked to see the other, higher-profile act. That's the way it works these days, now the club grown into such a name-filled event. The crowd will often differ heavily from one month to the next, as new punters are lured in by TV names. You could say it's a victim of its own success, though I wouldn't entertain that thought for long. I'm proud of what it's become - though it's a shame it can sometimes be harder for us as hosts, having to combat against the obvious gulf between being the familiar and the unfamiliar face (even on your home turf). (Though we still have a handful of staunchly loyal followers.) The gig hasn't sold as well as the last few dates, or the next two coming up, which is inevitable when half of th

Good Day, Good Day.

I left the office today, feeling happy with how my show's shaping up.  I'm under no illusions that Thursday's work-in-progress set won't be rough around the edges. I'm also fully aware that the show I take to Brighton next week will be markedly different from what I take to Edinburgh...but that's okay. It's all part of the process. I'm looking forward to having a four-night run next week to play with the material and see what works, safe in the knowledge that I still have two months after Brighton to chop and change what I've got, to tailor it to Edinburgh. The results in the meantime should at least be entertaining, as they were when I performed ' Work in (Hope of) Progress' in Bath.  One positive upshot of putting together my set is I enjoy performing the material so much more than last year's show, even at this early stage. The content is a lot more playful than '...and Ephgrave' and takes in a greater variety of subjects. I&

Pretty in Pink.

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At the risk of sounding twee, I love all the blossom that’s about at the moment. (That’s right: I love every single bit of it .) When I walked into town today, I made the conscious decision to pay attention to it. I took a longer route in fact, through the cemetery, so I’d see more of it. There’s a vast multitude of colour around at this time of year, if you make an effort to look out for it – and on a sunny day like today it has even more impact; fields, gardens, parks and roadsides across the UK are awash with white, blue and pink. It lifts the mood, like a flora-based antidepressant (as in vegetation; not margarine.) There's a tree near my house that's in full bloom. It only ever lasts a week or so before the wind does away with it, but those few days are worth it. In life, sometimes the simplest things are the best. I'll be off now to skip and dance around it; I knew I shouldn’t have smoked that jazz cigarette.

Why Eye Oughta.

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Yesterday, I spent twenty minutes incapacitated in Wilko car park because I had a bit of grit in my eye; I sometimes wish the ground would swallow me up. The Theatre of Conflict. The most annoying part, besides the grit, was the fact I’d made a conscious decision to leave my bag in the office rather than take it with me, which I’d otherwise always do. If I’d taken it, I would have had a bottle of water and some tissues with which to construct an ad hoc eyewash. Instead, all I could do was rub it (my eye, that is); blinking constantly while tugging at my eyelid. I genuinely felt trapped. I couldn’t go in the shop without looking strange, and I couldn’t stay where I was without seeming suspicious. I ended up walking to the far end of the car park to where I’d be almost out of sight, but this only made things weirder. Every so often, someone would come out of shop's exit and walk past at me; keeping a fully-functioning eyeball trained on my definite questionability. It w

Busy Billy.

Tonight, I went to see Bill Bailey at the Gordon Craig Theatre in Stevenage, which was unsurprisingly a joy (primarily for the first bit). I've only seen him live once before, at a cosy work-in-progress show at the Menier Chocolate Factory, with me and my wife sitting practically in the front row. He seemed a little flu-filled that night and keen to keep his head down and get through it, whereas tonight he was on sparkling form. It was inspiring to watch; he's the best by a long chalk.   Today was personally useful too, as Broadway Baby shared an interview to promote my Brighton run. Hopefully it will help encourage an audience; either way, it made me feel more positive about it. Here it is; read on .

Henning, Hen-out, Hen Shake-it-all-about.

Tonight’s Mostly Comedy was one to be proud of. First off, with Hattie Hayridge and Henning Wehn on the bill, we had an exceptional line-up. You’re off to a good start when you play host to familiar faces; more-often-than-not, an audience feels most comfortable when the people they're watching have form and a television presence; such is the nature of promoting comedy – but the atmosphere can go through the roof when those acts are on top form, like they were tonight. It was probably the one date in Mostly Comedy’s 2016 diary that made us most tense, what with the difficult task of moving a sold-out audience en mass from Henning’s originally scheduled appearance last month. Ticket holders had four weeks to decide whether they’d like to stay with the April date or switch to the new one, before the event went on public sale. Thirty people did nothing before the deadline, which made us paranoid they hadn’t seen the message (well: the numerous mes

How Do You Do It?

Today, I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make the Mac-based slideshow software Keynote do something that PowerPoint does very easily.  (If the above sentence doesn't pique your interest, nothing will.) I switched to Keynote a few years back when I bought my MacBook; Glyn and I have been using it to run our slideshows ever since. For the most part, it's user-friendly, but - like with all computer technology - there's always some little bug or other that gets on your wick. I've lost count of the times a simple task took hours to complete, because some link in the chain wasn't working as it should; if I ever meet the person who devised Apple's infamous colour wheel, I'll punch them square in mush.  All I wanted was for an MP3 to trigger on one slide and then continue under the following slides as I flick through them. Then, when I realised you can only do this on Keynote if the audio file starts at the beginning of the presentation, I tried to

Bank Holiday Aftermath.

I decided not to go to tonight's meditation class so I could free up some time to work on my show, but ended up using it to complete an email-based interview for an online listing site, which should help promote it. I'm glad I got it done quickly (I only received the questions today); it's good to strike while the iron's hot, plus I can start tomorrow on a fresh slate, rather than having to concern myself with admin.  Today's been busy, taking in a meeting to discuss a possible extra venue for Mostly Comedy to take on in the New Year - more details to follow - and a spot of dog-walking for my mum with my wife, and a visit to Kwik Fit to have a tire changed (on my wife's car; not on me). I've also managed to squeeze in good forty minutes plus of meditation, which has been invaluable for settling my mind in the midst of all the show-looming freneticism. Seeing my mum's do g helped too, as he's a good antidote to stress. I'm fully aware that today&

Double Dare

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I'm going to keep today's post brief, as I've just started reading a new book, and as my brain's a bit frazzled from thinking about my Brighton show, it could do with the time off.  So tonight, in lieu of a fleshed out blog, I'd like to raise a small point: is it me, or has Peter Simon into a latter-day Jason Donovan?  I took the screen grab of the Simon / Donovan hybrid hosting a show on the shopping channel Bid TV a couple of years ago, and every so often I return to it and marvel at their similarities. It's bizarre, as if it weren't for what I've seen with my own eyes, I would never have made the visual connection. It's uncanny.  I, for one, don't want to see his 'flash outlet'. 

Out and About.

Tonight, I met my friend (and our In Your Inner Ear co-presenter) Steve, for one of our infamous Old Man Pub Crawls.  The embarrassing thing about our OMPCs these days is the skant amount of alcohol. Steve had two, or possibly three Ginger Grouse, while I had just the one. What's become of us? We used to at least make a vague attempt at insobriety; now, a mix of medication and sensibleness ensure that any versions of the demon drink barely pass our lips; we've fully embraced the 'old man' part of the Old Man Pub Crawl summation.  While I didn't really feel in the mood to go out tonight, after making the effort, I had a good time. We have a habit of making similar jokes and finishing off each other's ideas, which is an unsurprising byproduct of knowing each other for so long. It like the result of some sort of scientific experiment; we just need another person with a slightly different upbringing to act as the control.  Our conversation went off on a variety o