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Showing posts from May, 2017

Promo Wednesday.

Today was a productive day of doing press for Edinburgh, taking in a podcast interview and a little writing-to-order for a potential piece in an EdFringe magazine. The interview was fun. It was done over Skype, because we’re living in the future, though just prior to it, I had a moment of panic as to whether I’d know what to talk about; it’s very easy in these situations to forget everything that’s relevant and to come out the other side thinking, “Why on Earth did / didn’t I say that?” Consequently, I glanced through my show notes and reread my press release just before the interview, because only I would feel it necessary to research myself. I also went for a quick walk to the park near where I live, just to get out of the house; it’s quite something to go from not speaking to anyone for a couple of hours to having your conversation committed to tape (though I doubt the recording was analogue). In the end, our chat flowed easily and I fe

Waiting For the Day To Come.

The song that turned things around when my old band Big Day Out became a three-piece and told us we could continue without our lead guitarist (and one-time driving force) was this: Prior to his leaving, I didn’t have much confidence in my ability as a songwriter or a front-man. While I’d co-written a lot of the material with him, I'd never felt comfortable with our partnership, mainly because I was intimidated by his ability. He was always coming up with ideas he was hugely cocksure about (which is intended as a compliment), and while there was a crossover in our musical taste, I was more into songs that were truthful while he was more motivated by a good riff.   His leaving was ultimately a good thing as it cleared the field and took away my fear. The three of us who remained were on the same page and shared the same sense of humour. It gave us a burst of energy that could have driven us to great things if the tours I took when I left drama school hadn’t got in the w

Whom?

I’m really enjoying the current series of Doctor Who. I'm a big fan of Peter Capaldi - primarily for his performance as the wonderful, yet terrifying Malcolm Tucker - but aside from the odd episode here and there, it wasn’t until this series that his Doctor found its stride for me. When I heard of his casting in the role, I was delighted (he was an inspired choice), yet I can’t help but feel he was unfortunate in taking on the part when he did. Every idea has its natural life and eventually, these things can run out of steam, which generally how I felt about the last few series. It was just a case of poor timing that Capaldi should come in at the point he did when the revamped Who seemed to have used up most of its tricks; there are only so many rejigged battles against Daleks and Cybermen before things started to feel a little samey. Yet it’s with the current series that things have really kicked into gear, which is a shame as it’s se

Tellin' Stories.

In the past few weeks, after a bit of a reading hiatus, I’ve got back into the practice of devouring books. While I’ve always been an avid (or should that be ‘David’?) reader, I tend to go through periods when - through tiredness or otherwise - I fall out of the habit. This will usually be the case when I’ve finished a book and haven’t had time to start another during daylight hours; I don’t like beginning new books at bedtime, as I’ll end up having to reread the first few pages the following day to make up for what I missed through tiredness.   It only takes a gripping novel to remind me of how addictive reading can be. It’s such a lovely feeling when you submerge yourself in a story and get lost in it. There’s little to match the pull of a great book that no sooner have you put down you're desperate to pick up. A well-written novel is a little bit like magic; how is it that hundreds of words on page after page disappear to be replaced by such vivid imagery? Yet it

Mainly Mostly June-ly Morriss-y (Not Morrissey)

No sooner does one Mostly Comedy pass than another rears its head. See below for the press release for next month's show in Hitchin. It's a majestic feat of copy-and-pasting from old mailouts and near-defunct websites by a person who's tired of editing them. While I may be negative about writing press copy, I'm very positive about next month's line-up, which includes a member of one of Britpop's biggest bands, for Christ's sake; the blasphemy wasn't necessary, but my point still stands.   Press Release – 27.05.17 mostly comedy a monthly comedy and music club at the sun hotel in hitchin With seven of the last eight months’ shows selling out in advance, Doggett & Ephgrave’s Hitchin club Mostly Comedy is gaining a reputation for being a hot ticket; all the more reason to book quickly for June’s show featuring, amongst others, an acoustic set from The Bluetones’ front man MARK MORRISS . Can it real

Mostly Boiling.

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I’m pleased to report last night’s Mostly Comedy was a resounding success - yes: resounding - with my Mac repaired in time for me to get back to Hitchin and play co-host with all technical bells and whistles in fully working order. Angelos Epithemiou and Barry From Watford at Hitchin Mostly Comedy (24.05.17) I arrived at The Sun at 4pm to find Glyn and Paul in the midst of setting up the ballroom, which was nearly as warm as its Yellow Dwarf namesake. Entering was like stepping from one sauna to another, with the second one marginally more sauna-like than the first; not the ideal end to a frantic dash across London in stupid heat. Thankfully there were no problems tech-wise, so we were ready in time for Alex (Barry From Watford) and Dan’s (Angelos Epithemiou) arrival. Dan turned up first, who we’d never met, though we'd watched him at the recording of an episode of House of Fools a few years back . I’ve been a fan of his work for a while

Tick-Tock Tension

While I'd like to be at the Sun Hotel setting up for tonight's Mostly Comedy, instead I'm seated outside a coffee shop in Covent Garden, waiting for word from the Apple Store about my poorly laptop. The very fact I'm here is a calculated risk. It's all a question of timing; if I hear from them in the next half an hour or so, I should be able to get back to Hitchin without too much hassle. If it takes any longer, I may have to leave my computer behind...and God knows what we'll do at tonight's show. (Ooh, the drama .) It could have been worse. I'd originally had an appointment booked in Cambridge for first thing this morning that was early enough for me to book a room at a cheap B&B nearby, as this seemed the least stressful option. Then a slot came available in Covent Garden that seemed more convenient all round - leading to me cancelling both the Cambs appointment and hotel room (losing the money for the room; obviously); my life is nothing if no

You Ain't Seen Me...Right?

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I was disturbed to discover I'd been papped at Hitchin Station the other day. I was wholly unaware I’d been snapped until a few days later, when the photographer in question responded to a tweet posted from Doggett & Ephgrave’s account about my show in Brighton, to say they’d seen me waiting for a train and wondered where I was headed. What was strange about it was they’d obviously sat on the picture for a few days before sharing it with us; would they have kept it to themselves if it weren’t for them spotting the tweet about Brighton and, if so, why did they take it? I can’t imagine why anyone would feel the need to document seeing me in a reasonably likely public place. I’d be flattered if it weren’t so disturbing. How often have people taken pictures of me without my awareness? What’s the pull? It’s not like I’m a topless sunbathing Duchess of Cornwall or a wigless William Shatner. Seeing me at my hometown’s railway station is a re

Now Who's a Posing Comedian?

Today, my wife and I attempted to take some promotional shots for the artwork for my Edinburgh show. I’m pretty sure we got what we were after, but if we haven’t, we’re not far off it. We’d meant to do them all week, but kept being rained off - and any days when the weather was suitable, the location we’d earmarked would have been too busy, as it’s next to Hitchin Market; it’s enough to try to get results without people gawping at you. Even if we haven’t got the exact picture yet, I’m very happy with the concept. I won’t blow it here just yet, but it’s a nice idea that was suggested by my PR, that fits the show title ‘Now Who’s a Comedian?’ perfectly. It also plays right into my preferred style of show artwork, which is to use a single undoctored image that tells the story without much else. It’s also subtle, understated and naturalistic; there’s nothing I hate more than a photograph of a gurning, ironic-face-pulling comedian. The only reas

Making Small Friends.

Today I met Glyn’s new son properly for the first time. We popped over to their house this afternoon to say hello - not unexpected of course - and to hand over a couple of presents, along with a card for Glyn’s birthday last week. Not only did this give us the chance to meet the new arrival, it was also an opportunity to play with Glyn’s other son Max, who - a month into having a younger brother - was more excited about showing us his new heavy-duty bubble machine than introducing us to his sibling. I feel we've started to bond properly in the last few months. I felt the change kick in when we went to visit the Broadway Theatre in Letchworth a couple of months ago, with Max in tow. It was nice to chat with him, to be able to ask him what he liked and to hold his hand. What was lovely - as was the case today - was how he kept comfortably referring to my wife and I by name, like he sees us all the time, despite us maybe not having met that often. There’ll be plenty of op

It's Going to Cost Yer.

The most exciting moment today was when I stood with my wife to give her moral support while the man from the RAC recharged her car battery. We discovered the car wouldn’t start yesterday when I was about to get a lift to the station to catch the train to Brighton. Even the manual override to the keyless ignition wouldn’t work, which was ominous, if suggestive that the battery had died. I had to leave my wife with it yesterday while I took the bus to the station; I wanted to stay behind, but the people of Brighton needed their entertainment. Thankfully, the problem didn’t take long to fix today, but it made me wish I knew more about simple mechanics myself. What skills do I have that apply to the day-to-day? I can juggle three balls and pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, but neither of these is much use in an emergency. The only other task I’m adept at is opening jars, but why bother using me when you could use an

Brighton #3: All Work, Real Progress

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Tonight saw the last of my three Brighton Fringe dates, which was the best of the bunch. The Quadrant: The Stage is Set (18.05.17) If you were to ask me what I said at any given moment, I wouldn’t be able to give you much detail, but at the very least, most of it felt right. Things started to find their rhythm, and I didn’t feel there was anything that slowed momentum down, bar two bits, one of which I don’t feel has actually been properly written yet and the other might just need a slight rethink. It was definitely the best way to draw a line under my Brighton run as, if I’d had a dodgy one tonight, it might have left me unsure as to what to do next. Yet again I’ve discovered that the thing most likely to make sense of the material is to do it in front an audience. That’s what gives the show life - and as long as I’m fairly comfortable with the structure, I can have a bit of fun with it, giving an energy that can never be there without a res

Vienna Waits For You.

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Today, I purposely stayed in a pub after finishing my drink because a certain song came on the radio. That song was Vienna by Billy Joel; a song I hadn’t heard before until relatively recently, when I went to see him live with my wife and my mother-in-law at Wembley Stadium last year. It’s something that really resonates with me, as someone who can be prone to overdo it, or be too focused on achieving certain goals as being proof of my validity. I actually think I’ve got better at this lately and my work / life balance has improved. When I was a teenager, my band was my sole focus and the most important thing in my life, and succeeding - whatever that meant - was essential; if we didn’t get signed and achieve popularity, I'd have failed. As it was, we were on route to this when my life went another way and acting and comedy became my main motivation, but I always had the sense that I wasn’t doing enough; that every second not spent on work was

Maccaccaccaccacca.

What does any self-respecting thirty-six-year-old who was given £30 in Amazon Gift Card vouchers for his birthday spend them on? Special Edition remasters of two of Paul McCartney’s best 1980s albums Tug of War and Flowers in the Dirt, that’s what. You’d think this many years into the game my interests might deviate, but apparently not; the man who first bought Flowers in the Dirt on cassette from Wembley Market in his early teens is buying it again in his mid-(don’t you dare say “late”)-thirties on a different format; give it another twenty years and I’ll be paying to have the album implanted into my head. Yet again, I prove where my allegiance lies; I didn’t use the vouchers to buy the 50 th Anniversary remaster of Sgt Pepper- even if that was essentially another Macca-led project; I spent them on his less-celebrated yet often as interesting solo work. A lot of people would sniff at that statement, but only because they’re comparing the man’s la

Brighton #2: All Work, More Progress.

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One thing I didn’t anticipate on my way to tonight’s show in Brighton was I’d be performing to (amongst others) 27 German students. Informal. Their teacher popped his head around the door an hour before I began, to see (1) if there was anything on, and (2) if my show would be something I thought his class would understand. This was a hard question to answer as, while language wouldn’t necessarily be a barrier, they might struggle with some of the content, what with my propensity for choosing quite niche cultural references; did Noel Edmonds’ Nineties-era work make it as far as the Rhineland? Let’s hope not. My reluctance to answer with a clear yes or no may have been cause for doubt, as he didn’t commit to coming back. I took a bit of a risk tonight, by making some big changes to my set at the last minute, so I could be true to my original intention of using the three dates to chop and change what I do, to make the most of the chance to work t

Ephgrave's Eurovision 2017.

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People of my age and their parents tend to have a different vision of Europe (see what I did there?) hence the result of last year’s EU Referendum; consequently, I can’t imagine many Daily Mail-reading UK residents beyond retirement age enjoying last night’s Song Contest, despite having grown up with it too, when the vast majority of them made it clear they'd like to keep mainland Europe at a distance (unless they live on the Costa del Sol). This certainly isn’t the case for me, particularly when faced with such out-and-out camp; Eurovision is always entertaining, notwithstanding the fact my taste in music is so at odds with the competition’s usual fare. So it was that I found myself in front of the TV tonight with my wife, a couple of beers and a range of Euro-snacks, tweeting along to proceedings. See below for my unsolicited commentary: 8:02pm: Twice this year, my TV stopped working at a key moment: once as Big Ben stuck midnight on New Yea