Urban Heroine

I hate busybodies. Don't you? Mind your own fricking business!!! Twats!

So, I'm on the Piccadilly line tonight. Coming home from Silver Hammer, run by the lovely Daphna Baram. I don't mind saying - I'd had 2.5 pints of Murphy's booze, but I was ok, I can handle my stout! It was about half past eleven or something...

and there is this man and this woman on the train together. Sat directly opposite me.

I had a Tesco cheese and tomato pasta salad, so by all accounts, I shouldn't have even noticed them. Notice them I did though... what I noticed most was the body language between them. He was very much in her space and throwing her compliments and she was very much ... well embarrassed, yet  cornered. They were both drunk and the conversation led me to believe they worked at the same company, but tonight was the first time they had met... Yes, I feel I really got to know them... Anyway ... yum, yum, can I make these last few tomatoey pasta twists last to Earls Court? Will it be bad manners to lick the pot? Oooh, a few more bits of grated cheese.... mmmmmm.

I can't exactly remember when I ran out of pasta distraction, but the situation opposite me only went from bad to worse. I think the point at which she told him, she was only 24 and he said - "Oh, Fuck, Fuck, No, Fuck, I didn't realise you were that young", kind of piqued my interest. Who, was I to judge, I love a silver fox... And yeah, he was if I'm being generous (very generous) early forties, if I'm being unkind... He was wondering how 50 had crept up on him so fast and how it had become such a distant memory. I wonder if he had kids of his own that are her age, or nieces or nephews... Probably! He wrestled with his conscience for literally seconds, before continuing to tell her, 'it was because she was sensible and mature (or some other shit) that he'd thought she was older than 24' and so continued his charm offensive. Yeah, that kind of got my goat...

The journey and their story bimbled on - He was making sure she got home ok, but didn't expect anything from her. She was telling him, if he wanted to get off at Holborn, She was fine she could find Holloway Road and her home, safely by herself. He didn't take the hint... So, what -  Oh the times I've enjoyed the delights of being coerced into intimate situations because I'm too drunk and lack the self esteem to say... "Yeah, probably not gonna happen mate...Jog on!" Many a happy relationship, has started under those circumstances exactly. Oh no, sorry ... my relationships (few and far between as they have been) usually end up in me realising 3 months down the line, that the flattery and the booze, don't make up for the lack of genuine connection.

So it carried on...She appreciated him seeing her home, but may be too tired to invite him in. He really needed just one more beer if she had one for him... (things they were actually saying to each other) If ever a situation needed screaming at from a stranger, this was it.

Now I'm peeling off the wrapper of the pasta salad pot and looking the other way to try and disguise my genuine disgust at this guy's tactics, he is holding her hand and in her space, intermittently telling her she is lovely and you know... there was nothing you could pin him down for being exactly out of line, except a sense of her discomfort at it all. She really looked like she wanted him to back off a bit.

Then this happens, I try and get his attention. I think I've got a fairly expressive face and while partially hiding my face behind my pasta salad pot... because watching them had become too much, I do my best peak around, I make eye contact and I give him my best. 'Don't do this, you're being a real shit' kind of look... at which point he stage whispers to her ... "She is on drugs. She just looked at me with one eye"

I was fucking gobsmacked.

He what?

I what? I'm sat right here you pathetic shit. Even if I am on drugs (I'm not). I'm not fucking deaf.

Fuck you buster. The gloves are off now!

Except they weren't. Not to begin with. I was totally disarmed.

I think. Does he think I'm on drugs because of my wonky eye? Or because I'm mad enough to try and tell him with my bestest bitchiest glare to reign it in. I didn't know.... But I did still have until Holloway Road to sort this out!

Now, not only have I got to let it be known what a slimey overbearing shit he has been... I've got to do it while making sure it doesn't sound as if I'm on drugs!

Then they had the same 'walking her home safely / he didn't expect anything / could he come in for a beer? / wasn't she lovely' on a loop conversation another few times and then they get to Caledonian Road (the one before Holloway - her stop). This is it. I'm doing this. I'm speaking!

*gulps*

Shall I?

Yes, I will.

"Excuse me, I wouldn't usually speak to strangers, but I just wanted to say that I'm not on drugs and I don't like that you spoke about me, when I'm right here." He interjects - "We weren't talking about you, we were talking about us" - Me carrying on "Well, I'm sorry, that is what I heard, I'm sorry if I misunderstood and I'm sorry for eavesdropping, I was only looking at you like that, because I didn't like  the way you were completely in her space and making her feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry for staring."

There it was ... and what did she do?

She mouthed 'Thank you' at me and looked very very relieved. I looked back at her to make sure that is what I'd seen and it still looked like a grateful face... He was pissed off.

As they got up to leave the carriage, I said "Have a nice evening." She said with a smile "Yes, and you" It was the most assertive thing, she had said in about fifteen tube stops... He said. "Yes, thank you for your comments." I don't think he meant it.

I hope she got home ok.

I hope he has a bit of a think about his seduction techniques.

Somewhere to plop out ideas...

Yes, I've been gone for ages without any explanation, but I'm back now. For a bit at least. What did you do since last April? I did my first Edinburgh run last August (mostly a nightmare), then I got back and hit more brick walls than I care to mention. Emotional brick walls, Creative brick walls, Career brick walls... as I say, all kinds of walls. Well they say you build your own walls, but I'm slowly trying to knock through a few of mine. 

So, In December, I finally quit my job, after years of complaining about life at the council... in the end things got really horrible, so I chose my happiness and sanity over financial security and I have to say it felt great to leave all that horror behind me.

I'm off work for the moment, so I have some time on my hands and looking for somewhere to dump ideas and try and do a bit more writing. I'm guessing this is as publicly private as anything else - no one I know that was blogging when I began really still bothers and I doubt anyone will read this unless I choose to draw attention to it.

I still do stand up comedy. I'm still only gigging once or twice per week, but still going says something doesn't it? Dumb persistence... Still on the open mic circuit. Still doing mostly five minute spots, but most of all, still enjoying myself. (Most of the time.) It does form 90% of my social life and takes care of a similarly large chunk of my self esteem, so I've no choice but to continue for the time being

I was bold enough to complain this week about my lack of success in relationships and was told - "You have two cats and a nice checked shirt. What more do you want?" In fairness, I was probably talking to the wrong person, but if that isn't an incentive to turn things around, I don't know what is! 

Anyway, imagine this is me dipping my toe back into the world of blogging. Imagine there are people reading... Imagine you need something to know it is worth visiting here again... Well

• Imagine I'll write more in the future about what is fun and what is not about being at home all day and explain my views and experience of job hunting. 
• Imagine I'll wow you with intimate gossip from the world of open mic comedy and insightful gig reports.
• Imagine I've invited you in ... as I rebuild my life ... from single jobless aimless sofa dweller into successful creative type with a fulfilling day job and happy relationships, 
• or just watch as the shit really hits the fan and my life falls to pieces... or maybe a bit of both. 

For now, here are a few pictures from the last ten months of Og-land. 

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1) Attempting to write an Edinburgh set - Spring 11. 

2) Post 'Race for Life' with Mummy Ogs - July 11. 

3 and 4) Cakes I made - Summer 11. 

5) Drunk in a borrowed hat in Edinburgh - August 11. 

6) An aptly named street in Islington, where I used to hide in breaks from hateful work - September - November 11. 

7 and 8) The cats - All the time.

9) The only Veg harvested from the garden - September 11.

10) Another cake - December 11

The Results Are In

We had an overwhelming response to the straw poll. Hmmm, I say overwhelming, but well - two people replied and that is enough for me (thanks Su and Ade)... And the decision was - the blog lives to see another day. I’ll try and keep it updated at least once a week. We’ll just see how things go though shall we…

It has been ages since I’ve really written anything and not keeping up with this has left my creativity a bit rusty and cobwebby and not really much use to anyone … so it may be a slow start, but stick with it and hopefully we’ll get back into the crazy anecdotes and hilarious observations in no time. Did those ever happen before? Who cares, let’s look forward to them in the future…

I guess I should fill in a few of the gaps. September to November in one quick update … well maybe not too quick - this is me... Always striving for brevity... Always rambling on unnecessarily …

So - What’s been going on?

FLAT

I’m all moved in and happily settled with Sprogs now. We are like a proper old lez couple and have even received our first joint Christmas card. (thanks Norm) We had a house warming party. We’ve got new sofas and lovely shelves. I mean who could ask for more. I think Becki would ask that cats stop leaving anonymous gifts on her bed (sick and muddy paw prints - that kind of thing), but I can’t see what her problem is. There is no pleasing some people.

ROMANCE

Fate is a funny bitch at times… A week after I moved in to the new flat, ready to begin my new start with Sprogs, living the happy go lucky bachelorette dream, I met a very decent chap called Pete at a friend’s after work drinks. We hit it off and we started seeing each other. Oh yeah - Just like that!

And guess what. I pulled the relationship to pieces, found fault at every opportunity and within three months, I’d reached the end of my tether and called it quits... Ahem, I did have my reasons, but least said, soonest mended…Ha ha ha, I’m glad I’m not following some hideously predictable pattern of meeting people, making attachments then losing my bottle a few months down the line. That would be awful!

So… I’m single once again and am trying to get back into my writing and gigs and knitting. It’s much less complicated for me this way. Better for all concerned really. Yep, single is great!

*secretly weeping at my complete ineptitude where relationships are concerned.*

*sniffles and moves on – who cares anyway*

JOB

Oh, you know how fed up I was with my job? Well - First round of Tory Cu ts…They only deleted my post. Not exactly the way I’d hoped to end my six years in local government performance. I was a mix between shit-scared and feeling as if I’d had a huge weight lifted off my shoulders.

While colleagues (some who have barely spoken to me before) were offering their sympathies, I was secretly looking forward to getting myself one of those blankies with a hood and sleeves and snuggling down to pass the cold winter months watching Jeremy Kyle and Diagnosis Murder.

Alas, it is not to be. For once, I am a victim of my own success. Colleagues encouraged me to apply for two fixed term Contracts Officer posts that were being advertised. I did so and before the four-week consultation period of our restructure (including my post deletion) was even complete, I’d landed myself a new job. I start in the New Year… not just a coincidence then that I’m now blogging my way through my notice period on the old job…

COMEDY

I’ve barely managed to maintain a gig rate of one per week, just about clinging on to that. I had some really nice gigs back in October and early November, but it has been a bit sketchy the last few weeks. My beef, not the fault of the gigs... onwards and upwards hey?

ROUND UP

Gosh, my “just filling in the gaps a bit exercise” has made me realise it has been quite a hectic few months really. I don’t feel so bad for abandoning the blog now.

I thought I had nothing to say and then all that came spilling out… Wowee Zowee.

This Saturday I’ve volunteered to be an Elf at a Christmas Fayre taking place at one of Islington’s Day Centres. So… at least there should be some cheeky photos of that for next week’s update. As I said in my facebook status earlier today – Elves do drink Guinness and swear don’t they? Ho ho ho.

A bit of a favour... Please.

Firstly, a warm welcome to my new follower Jack - Hi... Thank you for following. This favour may not apply to you so much, but join in if you fancy...

For those of you who have known me a little longer, you might find it easier to help with this... you might find it more difficult, but I know you love a challenge...

So, here's the thing - I'm biting the bullet and next weekend, I'm having photos taken. Photos of me. How did I reach this terrifying descent into the world of vanity and self obsession? The back story is fairly simple: last year I was asked for a photo of myself for a charity gig I was doing. (yes admittedly, this has only happened once so far in my 18 month open mic comedy career...) Nevertheless, it happened! When (if) it happens next time, I'd like to have a proper photo to give the promoter.

At the time, I provided a photo taken in the pub. My hair dresser took the picture for me, just after he had done my hair. Yes, I met my hair dresser in the pub. He doesn't cut my hair at the pub, we do that round his house, then go to the pub to show off the new do straight after. He works in a proper salon in the day time and is a friend as well as someone I know from the pub.

Anyway, back to this photo situation. I liked that photo. I've even posted it for you here, but it is already on facebook and twitter, so not a massive surprise.

It obviously isn't a professional shot, which is what the other three comics on the bill of the charity gig were able to provide. So, I'm having some taken and it is happening a week from today. Giada (who'll be taking the pics) has said it should be fun, but I'm reserving judgment on that until I can see if she can capture me without my eyes drifting off in all directions and me generally looking like a mong. As if I weren't anxious enough about my first (and probably last) photo shoot, I've been asked to do homework before I go! Yes, homework and this is where you come in. Below is an extract from an email from Giada. See what you think:

"unless you already have very specific ideas about what kind of photos you want, I'd suggest this exercise... think of 3 adjectives to describe your act. Maybe ask some friends too as your perception can be different from how the audience sees you.* This will give us a starting pont to identify your voice on stage and try to represent it in the photos"

This reminds me of the Walking Tall personal branding course I went on. Hmmm, that was fun too. Even asking for these words seem incredibly vain, but can you help? If we all come up with depressed drunk cat woman, perhaps I'll cancel the photo shoot and chuck myself in the Thames instead.

I don't think you'll let that happen. Will you? Please - 3 words each, be honest, but not too honest. Put them in a comment here, in an fb message, in an @Oggers76 tweet or in an email, depending on how well you know me and if you have a blogger account or are just passing by...

Oh, if you haven't seen my act, you could still have a bash at this, base your answers on as little or as much as you might have read in the blog. It could all help.

Mucho thank yous in advance people.

At the very least, good or bad - there will be more pictures in this blog at some stage soon!!

While I've been writing this post, that NHS advert about 'drink can do damage you can't see'. Honestly, sometimes I wish the NHS would fuck right off and I haven't even had a drink since Wednesday.

Comedy - You win some, you lose some...

Voice of Doom...

Oh, Oggers, you aren't still persisting with that silly comedy idea of yours are you? How long has that been now? Going on towards two years? Are you getting paid yet? Still just the one gig a week is it? Ha ha ha ha, you could make a joke out of that, couldn't you???

Voice of a tiny mouse... (me)

Err, No. Not paid as such and well kind of yeah, its about 19 months and I'm still keeping a hand in... You know... not gigging as much as I should. It is just, I do quite enjoy it and even though I don't work hard enough at it and I sometimes go on stage not very well prepared... the audience quite often appear to enjoy it too and I'm not doing anyone any real harm am I? Anyway Doomy Doomster, why don't you go fuck yourself?? Up your big doomy gloomy bum-hole. *Squeaks and runs back to mouse hole for large portion of non WW comfort cheese*

Oh sorry, those inner monologues again. Where were we...?

Ha, that would make a good pixar movie, like Ratatouille, but the mouse is a stand-up? Did someone make that already? If not, it could be a girl mouse, with the voice of me... Oh yeah.

Should I crack on???

I did two gigs last week. Number 70 and 71, for the number crunchers out there...

The first was my Laughing Horse Heat on Monday. I didn't make it through to the next round. I was gutted. Should I be toughing it out and saying, it really doesn't matter? It does a bit. If 16 acts compete against each other and you don't even get into the top 6, it isn't all that encouraging. I think I did a pretty good set, in a big crowded room, where I could see and hear the appreciation right to the back, so it wasn't a total disaster. Looking back on it, yeah, fair do's - I wasn't as strong as some of the other acts, but we can go round in circles here.

Reading Norm's blog, you might get the impression that the whole evening was a collection of scarcely thought through observational comedy that could drive even the most considerate audience to get out their PSP's, iphones, blackberries, gameboys and discmans, if they still had such devices... You might wonder how the judges even picked 6 acts to go through. I said after the event and even while munching on my sour grapes, it was a good night of comedy, spoilt only (for me at least) by bringing in the element of judging. Other friends who have been to a few of these things have assured me it was a very tough heat. Of course that is exactly the kind of thing I'd say to make a complete loser feel better.

I hadn't really expected to get through. I'm sure there are life coaches and NLP pushers out there that would say that kind of attitude won't get me anywhere. I hadn't though, but it was still disappointing. Either way, going in circles again. Sour grapes and knocks to confidence is what competitions are made of, apart from - you know - for the successful ones and ultimately for the winners... Well, good for them!

I was almost too embarrassed to leave the house come Tuesday, but leave the house I did and as you know - tiny victories - I had lost 2lb at WW. "Weight Watchers - When being a loser makes you a winner..."

I'm on fire here, Movie Proposals, Advertising Slogans. This is it people, as good as it gets...

And breathe and relax and back to last week...

Come Wednesday, it was off to Desperately Seeking Stagetime. The question on everybody's lips. Where was Norm? Maybe not everyone's lips. Sorry Norm. Conclusion: He was probably doing a paid fifteen somewhere.

First 12 acts to arrive, get 5 minutes, anyone signing up after that, gets 3. I got there early enough to do five minutes and when the time came, hoping to play around with a few new ideas, I got stuck after only half my time. After which, I told one segment of my brother set and then offered up my last minute to someone with only a three minute spot if they bought me half a shandy. I never got that half a shandy and to the best of my knowledge, all the three spots just stuck to three...

Even though I only managed 4 minutes. The night was made of win in several ways:

I walked from work to the gig, without getting lost and still arrived relatively early. (about a 50 minute walk.)

I didn't get drunk and I didn't take my beer on stage either.

I ad-libbed and got laughs and felt love and warmth from the audience (of comics).

I didn't smoke.

I was not the last person in the pub.

I made the tube home.

I didn't eat take away.

So. There you have it: You don't have to be a Laughing Horse quarter finalist to be a winner, although yeah fair enough - it would have helped.

Next week at gig 72. I'll be breaking one of Keith Palmer's golden comedy rules: Don't agree to do your comedy at a non comedy night. I've been invited to Tooting of all places. Yes, Tooting in South London *spits* to do five or ten at a bands night. A potential disaster? Yes completely, but I do have a certain weakness for musicians and as such, I couldn't resist. Wish me luck ;o)

Glee 17: Opening Night and Meeting a Mitchell

A new night for new acts set up in The Stow? This was not to be missed!!

Or maybe it was going to be missed. I got out of work later than planned and headed to the bus stop. bla bla... bus issues... bla bla, late late. Oh poop...(See I'm trying not to go over board on the detail.) Anyway, I was cutting it fine to get to the pub in time to sign up for the night and Becki asked me if it was still worth going. Yeah, yeah... I'll be there by 7.15... I'll have a Guinness please :)

When we got to the pub, we got drinks and went to have a look at the upstairs room where the comedy was happening. The room seemed like a good layout for the comedy purposes, but there were only eight or nine people in it and the organiser pointed out they were ALL acts. It looked like Sprog might be the only audience. She is familiar with that arrangement, but as it turned out later on we needn't have worried, plenty more peoples showed up. It was, when the time came - a really nice crowd.

In the meantime, we went back downstairs to wait there for the show to start, rather than stay and attempt to mingle with all the nervous distracted comic types. Back downstairs, Billy Mitchell was in the pub. I'm like 'oh look Billy Mitchell is in the pub.' Well actually, I was giddy with excitement. Updated my Twitter and the lot. We found a table, where I positioned myself with my back firmly to Billy, because I can't be trusted not to stare and we both busily tweeted/texted loved ones about Billy's presence.

Linda arrived. (Linda is one of Sproggle's work buddies) She wasn't staying, she was a bit p!ssed already and heading home for cheese on toast. Oh ok, maybe she would just stay for a little lemonade. Woohoo. This night was working out quite nicely.

As the start of the show neared, Billy and his friends got up and headed upstairs. No Effing Way! Billy Mitchell was coming to see me do comedy! hee hee. I'll be best mates with Babs Windsor before I know it. We can share grumbles about the plight of the larger chested lady. Was I getting ahead of myself?

If I'm honest, this comedy show needs a bit of work. It is so cool to have this happening on my doorstep. The Stow can get a bit forgotten as far as comedy opportunities go. They had a good crowd in and it is a great room for comedy, the organisers were very friendly and welcoming. They just need to polish up on the format a bit and possibly get a few more established new acts along as well as the first timers who had volunteered. Although more power to first timers' elbows...

Thing is, some of the acts didn't seem to realise that the idea of new acts night was to try out your OWN material. I think a bit of guidance in that department may help, because not everyone knows that kind of comedy etiquette. For some it was really was their first ever gig and with all the will in the world, that does show, but all comedy nights need to start somewhere and so do all comedians.

I was lucky enough to ease myself into comedy from the safety and security of a comedy school setting. If you haven't had that back up, I guess there is a temptation to get on and do the jokes you've seen work for your favourite comics. I guess not many of them will be reading this, but I've no doubt someone will put them straight in time. Let's hope it isn't Harry Hill/*insert other famous comic here*'s lawyer that lets them know

So - I'm not just saying this, I'm saying it because other people said it. I was the best act in the first half. As it turned out, I was also the best act of the night, (people said that too) but by the interval, we only had the first half to judge by. It was and it wasn't a personal triumph. My material was hazy in my mind tank, not having had a read through before, but I got laughs even through the bits that were muddled. There was quite a bit of ad-libbing, which thank heavens did got laughs as well. I lost my voice a few times and had to have a quick coughage, but over all it went nicely and even Sproggles said it was one of my best times.

I should be able to remember the blinking set though and being the best act on a night where some of the other acts don't even understand the concept of open mic comedy is somewhat of a hollow victory. Is a victory hollow or shallow? Either way, it was still a victory. Beggars mustn't be choosers. Or something.

So, back to the interval and we go downstairs again. We are walking through the bar and Billy Mitchell makes eye contact and Billy Mitchell wants to talk to me and he does and he and his friends are all full of compliments and it was like MEGA ACE!! Turns out his name is Perry, because there was that weird bit where we all introduced ourselves and he obviously knew we knew his other name, but he was very nice about saying - I'm Perry... That cleared things up no end and saved embarrassments. I'm ashamed to say, I've forgotten the names of the other friends we were introduced to. One of his friends was a sign language interpreter though. Always handy to know one of those!!

Linda had already headed home for the cheese on toast, so she missed our star struck meeting!

We went up to watch the second half of the show during which Becki got to punch a fat man in the guts. (He was asking for it - no really - he was - it was part of his act.)

The comedy ended just after ten, because the promoter was allowing for the fact that Walthamstow isn't the easiest place to get in and out of, but actually when the comedy ended, most people headed back down to the bar for more delicious booze.

Becki and I weren't sure where to seat ourselves in order not to appear too stalky toward Perry and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we ended up about a table or two away from him and were pretty much minding our own business, as he got hassled by quite a few different folks wanting to chat, get autographs and photos. We tried to cool it out and were determined not to make more obvious than required our wonderment at him being there... I totally didn't even ask if he could pass on my number to the hot new doctor on the Square. I didn't even ask that!

Then somehow on the way back from the loo or some old nonsense, I got caught up in a conversation with Perry and his pals, while they were chatting with the organisers of the evening and before we knew it, Sproggles and I had been invited to sit with Perry and his mates.

This was just MEGA MEGA ACE! I'm not sure they even asked the organiser to take a seat, just Sprogs and I. We mostly chatted about the night and how it was a great idea and it was nice to have that kind of event in Walthamstow and then had a bit of a rant and discussed how things could have been improved. I got more compliments, which I took with my usual charm - "Err, yeah, Ha - I'm not very good at compliments, but thank you..." *hides behind hands*. And there we were - Becki and I drinking and gossiping with an actor off the tele'.

I can just see me not too long from now - "So Babs, these big boobs - not all fun fun fun is it?" NO? Still too soon? Oh, whatever. A girl can dream.

Well they were lovely people and good company, so all in all, it was great to meet them.

After a while it was home time and Perry and his buddies bimbled off and Becki and I turned down the offer of an after show drink up around the organiser's house. Although, there was a general consensus that we'd be back for more Glee 17 action on 20th January next year!

We had places to go and people to see, don't you know. OK, so actually, Becki and I came back to the flat and had Dominos again. Why oh why? we just can't stay away from that place! We have WFC now. What are we doing with those Dominos nerds? I'm sorry WFC. We'll be back soon :)

A time for Industry

Yes, this is right! I said Industry!! I had better explain... before people start to think they are on the wrong bloggage.

Well - So good is my diary planning that in the space of five days, I will be doing four comedy gigs!? You could say my gigs are like buses. None for ages, then four come along at once. Well it hasn't been ages, but it has been a little while. You wouldn't want to wait for a bus for 10 days I guess...Then after this week, I could end up going another two weeks until I gig again as well. What a goon! Anyway, this is a very disorganised list of what and where they are. If any blog passer by was interested in attending, just shout me up and I'll get you proper details.

Tomorrow: What Am I funny Huh?, Queen's Head, Piccadilly Circus.

Sunday: LOL Show, High Wycombe (scariest of the four - Mr Cee of the Comedy School said "Bring your best stuff, they can get rowdy." He offered me a spot, but then threw in this advice after hearing my set, twice in a week!? I took it as a huge compliment to get the gig and he obviously must have enjoyed something, but does he think I have some secret funnies that I've not been sharing with the students at the Comedy School?)

Tuesday: Party Piece, Stamford Hill, (I've not got my name down, but I'm hoping that is a mere technicality. I will be there for the discount Guiness, performance or no performance...)

Wednesday: A gig for a brain injury charity called Headway in a pub called the Water Poets... Someone at work asked me if I was interested in doing it and I get to do ten minutes if I like, so that should be nice. I suppose I'll have to take the brain injury section out of my set though. It simply won't be the same!!

I wonder if this monumental run of comedy magic will make me or break me. If I live to see Thursday of next week without liver poisoning, I'm hoping I will at least have learnt a few comedy lessons. Plus I'll be polishing my "60" medal with glee :) There is a medal right? Norm mentions it so much, there has to be!? I'm hoping the gigs go well, I don't lose my job and I feel encouraged to do a few more gigs EVERY week, but let us not hold our breath for this spell of industry lasting, hey?? Let us not tempt that eggy basket of funny fate.

Oh and I'm still knitting my scarf... intermittently and I have an order for a new scarf for a very special someone, so I had better get busy with the knitting needles too.

OK, I'm going home now and you will all be glad to hear that I am having an alcohol free day today. Yes, I'm not proud, but this is a big deal to me. My week has been a social whirl...I've been out five nights in the last week and am now saving up my energies for my "Comedy Tour" :) I guess having t-shirts printed is a little premature, but hey ho.

Gibbons

I went to a gig in Angel last night at The Compass on Chapel Market. The gig was called The Giggling Gibbon. For the record it was my 56th gig… but hey, who’s counting? Oh yeah, that is right, loads of us are.

I had three supporters with me, my ex boss, his date and Becki Sprog. The room above the pub was empty when Becki and I arrived, but by the time show started it was fairly full up and they seemed like a nice crowd.

Just to take a slight tangent for a moment, I have been reading a fair bit of comedy blog chat, not here, but scattered about the place in pal’s blogs and comment streams. There has been a fair amount said on the subject of finding the right approach to comedy and what drives us to keep going and what we amateur comedians really want to achieve.

I don’t generally contribute to this debate. I’m not big on theorising and maybe I even took the mickey out of Norm when he first coined such phrases as “High Energy Stillness”. I may have raised an eyebrow or two when every other week he seems to have a new system and a new comedy 'this is the one' approach. I joke about it and it isn't my way, but I love Norm for it really.

The thing is - we are all going about this in our own ways and whatever way that may be, we all need to give ourselves a pat on the back for doing something a little out of the ordinary. We are doing something the majority of people swear they never could do. Surely that has to stand for something in its own right. I take my hat off to Norm for being up and scratching his head for new material at 6 am. That is incredible dedication. There is only one 6 o’clock in my day and it is when I’m finishing work and heading to the pub.

Believe it or not, it has not escaped my notice, after 33 years, that I am not the most industrious or focussed of souls. At least I have enough self awareness to admit that. I remember pulling all nighters at Uni, trying to get essays finished fuelled only on ProPlus and lucozade sweets, because I hadn’t fancied doing the work sooner. I am the queen of deadline extensions and procrastination techniques. I like nothing more than a little snooze with the kitties and there is always something better to do than washing up or worse still - straining my brain for funny ideas to actually write down and turn into material.

So, I might not have much to add to a conversation on the best way to build a set or how many new jokes to add in at a time. I might not report every gig I do and go into detail about the bits that worked or not. My current set about my relationships with my brother and the set before that, known as seven things, basically grew out of last minute pre-gig panic and were developed more or less through repeated performance and trial and error. And there we have it: we all have to approach the problem from the angle that works best for us and give each other some credit for having stuck with this messed up old world we call open mic comedy for the last year and a half or so…

Anyway, I’m sure I had a valid point to make, but I’ll get nowhere trying to argue that bimbling along gets you to the same places as hard graft does, so lets leave it with the mutual group hug for hanging on in there, whatever the approach and get back to the gig. …

I had a rubbish day at work yesterday, pretty much everything and everyone was getting on my nerves. Before people go up in arms about the public domain and job security, it was just one of those days. Whatever previous posts have said, I’ve been trying to buckle down a bit over the last week, but I just had a horror of a day yesterday. By the end of it when Becki said that her mate had cancelled their plans for the evening, I snapped at the chance of dragging her along to my gig and I snapped at the chance of us having a few beers and a moan before hand.

This was the time when I probably should have been swatting up on my material and getting my head in a good place to perform, but I wasn’t in the mood for that, so Becki and I supped Guinness and had a bitch and a laugh together before the gig began.

I was the last up of four acts that formed the first half of the show and I enjoyed the first three acts, but have to admit at the back of my mind was – “hmmm, a proper read through would have been really good. Am I going to remember my stuff?” there was a daft quiz with audience participation right before my turn, prolonging my agony and by then I was just sat there thinking ‘oh God, I need to pee and I can’t sneak out now'.

When my name was called and I got to the performance area (no stage as such), I did my usual faffing around – where to put the mic stand, where to leave my pint, taking my time about it and the audience seemed to go along with it and see the funny side. It was a good start and things continued well as the audience came along with me and warmed to me throughout my seven minute spot…

At one point, I did completely forget my next line and had to turn to Becki, who has seen the set countless times for a prompt. Thank God she was there, but even that little kerfuffle seemed to keep the audience laughing and I picked it up and carried on to what felt like a really strong finish. I just love when comedy goes like that and you feel that mutual warmth in the room and everyone has clearly had a smashing time.

I don’t generally big myself up, but last night made me so proud of myself, I feel 'ickle tears well up when I think about it. During the interval, the promoter said he really liked the set and hoped I’d come back soon, another lady tapped me on the shoulder just to tell me how much she enjoyed my stuff and, last, but not least, one woman said to me – “thank you for making a shit week, so much better.” How sweet is that? Little does she know, that she in turn has made my week better too.

So...Have I got a two-year strategy in place as to how I’ll get my strongest possible twenty minute set? No.

Does that make me too lazy to ever make a living from comedy? Maybe.

Do I love the buzz when it goes really well, a room full of people get behind you, laughing in all the right places and some, then strangers feel the need to come and thank you after? Yes I do get a buzz from that and that is one of the best reasons I can think of as to why I do comedy and why I hope I’ll be doing comedy for a while longer yet, even if it does involve a bit of effort every now and again or God forbid I never make a fortune from it...

This blog Has Been Really Dull. Not Anymore It Isn't...

Outrageous.

Of late, all this blog seems to consist of is apologies for lack of content or lack of frequency or lack of excitement. I'm not giving up though, like the owner of a stubborn untrained puppy, there may be poop everywhere, but I am plodding on. With hard work and determination (ha ha ha - did I really use those words?) With a bit of work and nowhere near enough determination, I'll make this blog, sit, stand and roll over with shiny coated, waggy tailed finesse...

Of course, I'd be much better with an actual puppy than I am with this here blog. I'd love that puppy. I don't show this blog enough love. Aaaargh my puppy analogy has got out of control and just made me go on about my unfulfilled puppy love and feel a bit sad again.

OK, Fetch...

It isn't like I haven't done blog worthy stuff, because I have.

I went on that boat trip. That was ace, Cruising on the River Wey aboard the Goosander ... That deserves a whole entry all to itself. It is unlikely to get one, as it is almost ten days ago since I returned, but remember these few points:

• Narrow boats are generally smaller than flats or houses and they don't have lovely flush toilets. The bunks are quite narrow and you have to take care not to fall out of them.
• Some locks are stiff, some locks are loose, whatever the lock - always remember to close the slooshes before you leave.
• Mind you don't rip your fingers off by getting them tangled in ropes holding onto boats that are heavy.
• Take whisky and whipped cream to add to your coffee. YUM! Warm and creamy, tasty coffee and booze - all in one!!
• Boat people and people by canals and rivers are generally happier and friendlier than city people. Everyone Smiles. Try it! If you can be arsed, wave too. You might think they are all c*nts by the end of the week, but just keep on smiling and waving and you'll be fine.
• Life on the river, means plenty of swans, geese and ducks to feed. CUTE. Big up to the swans, geese and ducks!
• We were really lucky with the weather, if it rains, this holiday would most likely have been a heap of swancrap: Wet, stinky and no fun at all...
• When you get off the boat and on to dry land after an extended stay, expect to feel discombobulated. Still things on land will seem to sway. You may crave to be back on the water, just so you know if it feels like it is moving - that is because it is!! Fear not, it is just your sea legs and your land legs rearranging themselves and something to do with your lugholes. It should only last a day or so.

A few piccies of note were taken, sorry not to have them ready. I'll sort them out soon. Or not, it don't really matter... I've painted the pictures with my words. Don't you agree?

There - CONTENT! And this puppy ain't done playing yet!!

Since I've been home from my hollibobs, I've been having some lovely nights out with my Becki Sproggles :) We have had mucho Fun! Such were our drunken antics on Friday night, that we stumbled back to mine and who knows what time in the morning, eating burgers, chips and appley pies from WFC. KFC was shut by then :P I'm a good friend. I didn't make her trudge home alone in the wee small hours. No, I let her stay. We woke up still a bit drunk on Saturday and we giggled and we giggled, just at our own silliness really, but it was very therapeutic and good for the soul indeed. Laughter is the most certainly the best medicine.

A tiny gentle breaker of a brainwave, lapping on the shores of my consciousness has become a brain tsunami as I think I might be about to do something about this next big life question: Why live by oneself in a one bedroom flat, when a two bed place (with a lodger), even if it does mean a bigger mortgage could actually be MORE economical? Plus, I'd have company and I'd look for one with a garden, to play out with the kitties and all in all it would be bigger, better and loads more FUN! I'd have to find someone to live with though... Who would make the perfect lodger? Who do ya think? Hee hee. I'm a reckless case when I put my mind to it and the Estate Agent is coming on Wednesday to value the current Ogflat.

I'm gigging too:

Oh yeah, I got past the 50 gig marks and thanks to Keith Palmer and The Comedy School for making number 50 so special. Keith doesn't read this, but if he did, he would see that I am grateful for him offering me a spot on such a lovely night. 100+ students and a really great line up, plus me. I wasn't bad and the night overall was very cool!

Comedy competition tonight at the Leicester Square Theatre and Monkey Business on Thursday. Oh yeah. I'm keeping up with the comedy goings on. Yes siree, I certainly am!

Roll on 100 gigs...

And I booked a three night trip to Rome. That is November. More on that later.

And I haven't been swimming as much as I should, but the Channel challenge rumbles on... See the other blog for that hey?

Welcome Home Sprogs (and a few other asides....)

In other matters. Sproglet is due home today from her adventures Al Italia...

Welcome home my lovely :)

Oh yeah, comedy - no I've been lazy again and not gigged in over a week. Bad lazy Jo. No getting rich and famous for you!! I have a gig next week. Yes, one gig...Wow. Rock on. Top Comedy Commitments.

Today, partly because I left the flat quite late and partly thanks to that lot of numpties, the RMT being on strike, I rolled into work at around 11. Then I took nearly two hours for lunch, so I'm kind of making up time now. Not actually with work stuff, but I am here in the office and ready to jump to attention, should any Performance Monitoring emergencies arise. It must be re-assuring to the general public to know.

Excellent - I'm all blogged out too. I think I might have a cuppa.