The Decline and Fall of Ed's Festival Part V!!

Today is my last performance of the show "Better Off Ed." I wanted this show to be the stand up show I really wanted to do. I wanted to tie everything together - anger, expectations, hopes and fears. Life in a show. I think I have touched on that. I think this show could be developed and made into that. But not to four people a night. There are so many good shows, there are so many great acts. The majority have to be disregarded for a few to be selected as worthwhile.

Meanwhile, my Roman show is evolving. More of me is going into it. Previously, I complained that it's not the kind of show that can be repeated every day - but I think that's true of all shows. You just have to find a way. I am letting go of the other stuff. This is my future. I want to people to be fascinated and make them laugh. The Rome show is a harder bugger to master. On a good day it's a very good show. On a bad day, it's so difficult just to keep going. With my other stand up, I can always break off into audience banter or just try something out. With the Rome show, I can't divert much. The last few days have been a very good run of shows. But this in Edinburgh. That can change at any time. I know when things are starting to go wrong. I can feel my face freeze up. My eyebrows actually start to hurt, as if my face is trying to contort life into the audience.

Yesterday, people went away smiling widely, eyes gleaming. On Sunday, they look embarrassed or tried to smile encouragingly. One old man said: "It was great in terms of energy." There hasn't been a more damning review. Triumph and disaster. "Treat those two impostors just the same."

Yesterday was the real test. I managed to get two people upstairs to the landing to the see the evening show. A father and daughter. They were hesitant. The father was earnest: "We won't stay if it's not funny. We could get an early train back" he said quite earnestly. I sat down and talked to them. They warmed a little. Then a couple came up. One of them knew my brother. Two people from flyering. Two people connected to my brother. A PR triumph!

Introduced everyone and then waited for everyone to get drinks and off we went. Things were going well. The material was flowing the goodwill was strong. It wasn't going to be bad. I was going to make a room of 4 people playable. Then two boys came up. One of them, Ramsay, demanded a recap of everything that had happened. He was mouthy and assertive and 19 and a huge fan of himself. He listened to a bit of the show and then actually laughed. He was being won over. Then disaster. They were joined by 6 drunken girls. Ramsay lost it. He was showing off. I did my story about thinking I had contracted AIDs from a bannister aged 7. Ramsay said: "He gave his mum AIDs!" They all burst into laughter. I tried to half deal with them and half continue. Some of the material was landing but I was having to put out too many fires. The daughter and father started to shift uncomfortably. They then got up to go. They had been really enjoying it. Those bastards had driven them off.

I had no alternative. I told the 19 year olds to come up to the front and take their seats. If it was going to go to hell, better that I could keep an eye on them. One of them got up and asked if she could do karaoke. Ramsay got up and put his arm round my shoulder to suggest dominance. Ramsay was keen to assert himself as King of the Group. Some of them settled down and started to listen. One girl gave a running commentary on everything. I singled her out for a few face to face canon blasts. That shut her up. I was on the verge of bullying, but I had little choice. Some of them went. Others stayed. They listened and laughed. Then they checked their phones. I was performing to 7 people. Three of whom were also checking Facebook.

I got through the show and was relieved when they went. My brother's friends were still there. They had been loyal and laughing the whole time. They expressed disappointment that they weren't allowed to hear the whole show. But these kids weren't like the massive group of boys I'd had before. The boys were disruptive, but they weren't saboteurs. These guys were like the class from hell. I don't think they were bad people - they were just misbehaving little shits. Ramsay cam back up and felt the need to tell me about all the places he'd lived - posh places - and then said "We love you, Ed" because he wanted to show me that he was popular and handsome and universally admired and that he'd just been having fun.

That's the worst kind of dick. The one who thinks their actions are excusable. That they're decent people. I think in all likelihood he will look back at himself aged 19 and blush. Or he may not. Sometimes it feels like we are producing fewer self-aware people every year. Self-awareness and pensions. Seemingly unsustainable.

No hic-hiccuping.

I then had an enjoyable evening with the two other guys. Pints and whiskies. We ended up at Canongate, where the bartender refused to serve me as I was hiccuping. It felt like I was in a Disney film. Or in the early nineteenth century. "Rough-housers, pettifoggers and personnes of a low disposition will not be admitted." Arguing your case while hiccuping is very difficult. It's like arguing that you are a really decent person whilst being naked. Or trying to convey the idea that you're a decent guy whilst heckling a stand up show to destruction.

The Decline and Fall of Ed's Festival - Part Va

I've already blogged on Thursday, but I feel I need to share this with 1) my confused brain and 2) whoever reads it.

My evening gig. There were a core group of 6 people who stuck with me tonight. They gave me the confidence to be fluent and funny. Without them the show would have been hellish. There was a group of 15 pissed up 20 year olds at the back of the gig venue. This is the problem with the evening venue. It's an upstairs bar mezzanine place that people can walk through or sit round the corner from. It's not a room for a comedy. It's not a room at all. 

The group of lads came, they shouted, they went round the corner, they sat at the back, then they left. Then they came back. They were loud, but we kept ploughing through. Somehow that made my core people more faithful to me. We were okay. In fairness, those guys could have ruined things if they'd wanted to. They didn't want to. They were just noisy. But I didn't sense any malice. I'm not sure if this is fair, but I sense I wouldn't have had such a let off in Kent or Stoke or anywhere South of the border. Sometimes the English feel more lairy, in spite of the Scottish talent for drinking and violence. But that may not be national thing at all. Maybe it's because Edinburgh locals largely accept the festival. There are plenty of drunk locals around and I barely ever hear of disruption. I have done weekend shows in the seediest bars here, and never have had a serious problem. It's the posh, drunk London venue staff who are far more obnoxious. I've seen them almost ruin a friend's gig.

So, the gig turned out to be pretty good, despite all signs to the contrary. I threw them off with a sickness story I do, which is usually the highlight for people - for the 5 people that are usually there - when the show actually goes ahead! Maybe 'usually' is not a word I can associate with that show. But generally they were very much on board.

Unusually, this Scouser man and his family said it was the best show they'd seen that day. They had £20 in cash (as they were taking the train back that night) and gave me £5 of it. He shook my hand. It felt like a biblical moment. It was lovely. He said: "You deserve a much bigger audience." He's right. I deserved more than 6-10 people, but more is no guarantee of quality. Still. Two good hours in one day. On fire. Of course, then I ended up accidentally doing two more shows. I should have gone home. No. I should have been out socialising.

Also a superb show by @edfomeara at the Edinburgh Fringe in Sportsters Bar despite the goings on. Go and see him.

— Mike Hughes (@VikingHugheso) August 14, 2014

The plan was to see Bec. I finally got hold of her and it turned out she was doing two other shows herself. I had a prop for her that she told me to leave in the admin office of the Gilded Balloon. She told me in a text that she wanted to see me very soon. When I got there, she was there. I guess she wasn't expecting me to show up. I said hi and gave her the prop. I wanted to talk to her about the gig. I wanted to ask her about how things had been. She told me she briefly about the two gigs she was doing. I said I was off to do a gig in a restaurant basement. She said "Oh" and that was about it. Bec's a very focused person. I could see her mind being drawn back to her next performance, so I slightly reluctantly cleared myself away.

On the way out I said "Hi" to three comedians. Literally "Hi." Smile, no intention of stopping, move on. Festival acknowledgement. Covering the bases. I could be commissioned one day. You never know. Doesn't hurt for them to say hi. Easier than stopping.

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I had been asked to do this other gig by a guy who often asks me to do gigs in Exeter. I had some time to kill so I went to a bar on my own. I made sure it was a venue so that I could be reasonably waiting for a show or to meet someone. I'm not above having a pint on my own in a pub, but it's more difficult during festival time. When, I got to the restaurant, the promoter wasn't there. It was a particularly uninspiring room with a fairly uninspiring crowd. I did what I thought was a set. They laughed hot and cold. Patchy. After, I asked the MC if he was going for a drink. They were headed to the Library Bar. It's a place for open spots who are having their first few Edinburghs. Then they graduate to the Loft, which is the same thing except they have door staff checking passes and it feels more desperate. You get to see minor celebrities, chain smoking, looking weary and laughing too loud at nothing.

I had texted everyone I felt like I could. That changes year by year. This year it was about 4 people. No one was around. I started to walk home. I got to a place called Canon's Gait which is the PBH Free Fringe hub. They had a showcase there so I thought I would go in and watch it and have a beer. I got one and went downstairs. The showcase was MCd by an atheist political feminist who talks about her TV appearances quite a lot. She is someone who gives her opinion for a living. No condemnation. Nice work if you can get it. Meedya.

I went and stood by the bar at the back. When she had finished her bit of MCing and got the first act on, she came up to me and said "One of the acts hasn't turned up. Can you go on?" It was a big, full room. The people seemed reasonably good-natured so I said "Sure." She came back after the second bit of MCing and said: "Right. You're the headliner unless they turn up. It means 15 minutes, but you know, 10 or something." By now, these were statements rather than request. Like it was expected of me. No criticism of her. She was in the lurch and was spinning plates, but I had just walked in off the street. I went along with it. What if no one else was around? What would she have done then? The room wasn't exactly electric, but it seemed okay. There was no reason to suggest it would be difficult.

It was difficult. 

Not disastrously bad. Worse. Reaaaally underwhelming. I felt like a new act. Staring people. Maybe three people really laughing. It wasn't silence, it was worse. A smattering of laughter. Some murmuring. Occasionally I would hit upon something that challenged the scepticism, but not for long. A general sense of weariness. The material I was doing was easy, but it was low status stuff. The MC talked about her TV appearances and newspaper articles. I talked about flyering and temping. THIS IS NOT A HEADLINER! WE DIDN'T NOT PAY FOR THIS! (It was a free show.) I left quickly after. I saw people not putting money into the bucket. Somewhere between the MCs media career and my lacklustre performance, there didn't seem the will. 

I left immediately. I hadn't planned to be there anyway. I felt like maybe if I moved fast enough, I'd escape being caught in the amber of historical events. I should have had a beer elsewhere. But that's disingenuous. If it had gone well, I would have thought "Good beer! Just popped in and ended up bringing the house down!"

The truth is that it's a festival gig. These things happen. It's not gutting. More than that, I don't want to do 10 or 15 minutes of a club set. I don't want to do club sets. There's nothing in it for me. I'm bored of saying nothing. I like doing my evening show sometimes. There are little jokes about jobs and girlfriends and such, but it's part of something much bigger. Club sets are not. They feel like condiment packets. I don't want a condiment packet. I want a jar of mustard.

Tomorrow is my day off. I am torn between just getting out of Edinburgh and going somewhere or just seeing some shows I haven't got round to seeing. Nah. Fuck that. I don't want to hear any more words. I want to see some action: wildlife or landscapes or castles. I'm a gonna buy me a train ticket somewhere. At least if I go on a tour, no one will ask me to take over if the guide doesn't show up.

It's almost 3am now. I am eating into my day trip. Bed.

Note to self: Don't go on a walk and the drop your phone in a field full of slurry like you did last year.

The Decline and Fall of Ed's Festival - Part !!!

During periods of high stress, you learn a lot about yourself. What I've learnt about me over the years is that I'm a big whoopsie.

I have had people say to me that I seem very grounded and philosophical about things. Yes. Out loud. That's because I have to be. If I wasn't, I'd be a gibbering wreck. I had some bad shows and a huge wobble and so I went to bed early and slept on two consecutive nights and now my shows are going fine and I seem to be doing fine. That's all it took, really. Lots of acts will be out there getting sozzled every night and saying "How's the show going?" to each other whilst pie-eyed at 3am and will just be waiting to talk about theirs, but I'm happy to skip all that. There are lots of beautiful women around, however, and while I'd love to be out carousing, I can't pretend that early nights are wrecking my pulling ratio. I only ever end up with someone out of dumb luck anyway, so I'll stick to that time-honoured policy.

My evening show isn't really happening, however. I have done it twice now. Both times to fewer than 7 people. However, both shows went really well. The material works well, I feel comfortable telling it, and it will until I get bored of it. I have to stand outside flyering for it, and that doesn't really seem to be working. People do come up and sit down before I start and then they say "Is this the improvised comedy musical?" and I say "No. That's downstairs" and then they look awkward and I tell them it's okay for them to leave, so they leave. I think this show is a bit too good for no one to be coming to, but that's Edinburgh for you. Or maybe it isn't that good. Maybe I've just had kind audiences who see my predicament. Yesterday, I did it to a sketch group who loved it, but that's probably because they are in the room just before me, so...solidarity. They have a blonde, Northern girl who I look at and feel weak. I told her that this would probably be my last straight stand up show and she said "But why? You're really good! Keep going!" and just looking at her face made me think "Oh. Okay then" but that's because I'm fickle. Or desperate.

My jaw dropped when I was flirted with by this Eastern European barmaid at one of the venues. Part of me thought "Wow! She seems to like me!" and the other part of me rebutted "No. She's just a very attractive barmaid who likes flirting." And that part won. That part, I think, is called reality.

I have reinvigorated the Roman show by putting in new stories and new angles. It's like I've been married to it for 20 years and now we are having sex in the kitchen just to mix it up. "Ooh, we should really get those tiles done...what's wrong? You've stopped." I also try to sell every section. This isn't a strategy. It's me having the energy and mental composure to do so.

My days here are more regimented than at home. I get up, have breakfast, watch an episode of Frasier, play the ukulele, write (if I have to), go and do the show. Collect money. Come back. Cook lunch. Eat lunch. Watch Frasier. Count my takings. Drink coffee. Play the ukulele. Flyer for the evening show. Wait to see if anyone's coming. Do show/ or not. Think about going out, then don't. Go home. Eat. Go to bed.

I will probably soon get bored of this. Or will run out of Frasier to watch. Tomorrow I don't have ANY shows at all. I am going out tonight and will drink and watch some comedy and probably end up in bed at 4am and wake up with a hangover, and put myself back together for Saturday. Tomorrow, I am going to the dentist. DAY OFF!

I think I've got a part of life wrong. I'm staying in this converted warehouse. The bathroom mirror plays music, the shower is a huge overhead waterfall. I walk across a bridge to get to my bedroom. The hobs are this plexi-glass convection thing that I've never seen before with a removable silver disc control dial. There is a tap that dispenses boiling water. You can play music from your phone wirelessly into the sound system. There is a motorbike by the TV.

I always assumed happiness was a state of mind. Now I believe it may be a massive warehouse conversion. Presumably it would get boring. But there's always kitchen sex. Open plan kitchen sex!

The Decline and Fall of Ed's Festival - Part !

I just eradicated humanity with a plague called "Mr". It gave me a huge sense of achievement. I wanted to call it "Mr Death" but the game on my phone is a bit buggy. I have avoided mostly wanting genocide by mostly avoiding the festival drinking pits. 

Take that humanity!

The exception was my second night here. I met up with someone who is working at one of the venues. She was having drinks with the rest of the staff. Her boss was 22. They mostly all went to university together and all spent their time showing Instagram pictures to each other. A typical conversation was: 

21 year old girl

"This guy was 31. And I was like err...to put it in perspective? I'm 21?"

22 year old girl

"Yeah, but you're not like the stereotypical 21 year old?"

My scowl

"Yes you are."

I was already tired and apparently didn't conceal my feelings particularly well. At one point I went off for a walk. My friend asked me where I'd got to and I told her that I was standing by a tree. She came and met me then we left. We then went to meet her more "cultured" friends, i.e. 24 year old critics at a place called Summerhall, which is where "the cool kids hang out." Festival translation: Arty nerds. Most of whom are still at universities doing masters degrees in advanced job avoidance. Bit sneery, eh? Not to worry. They will all eclipse me.

I'm not sure this was a good idea. They all seemed extremely tired and unimpressed with all the shows they'd seen. The magazines make them go and see 5 shows a day. It's little wonder the reviews are so arsey.

Conversation samples:

Critic:

I saw 5 shows today earlier. They were all shit.

Performer:
Oh hi! You saw my show earlier! What did you think?

Critic:
It was great!

---------------

Critic:

They made me go straight to a show after a 6 hour train ride. I was sooo tired.

Me:

Wow! I wouldn't want to have been that performer. "The buffet service at the venue was non-existent! 1 star."

Critic:

...

I tried not to make too many jokes about critics. It's just so hard. It's my right to reply. That's what's frustrating about being written about. There's no right to reply. If you do, people think you're insane and bitter. My friend assured me that these were very progressive, supportive critics who want to change the system and abolish star ratings. Sure they do. Right up to the time when they leave university and get offered a salary. "Then...you know...I just feel lucky to have the job, because other people would love to be in my position. Actually, I'm bloody good at it, and what's wrong with giving out stars? People respect my opinion! They'd be bloody lucky to be reviewed by me!"

This isn't an exercise in bad-mouthing critics. I just think that critics need to be experts in their fields - and the people that the Edinburgh festival publications hire are not. They need to know how to fix a show, not how to badmouth it. Anyone can say why they didn't enjoy something. How many can say how they would have enjoyed it more? Incidentally, after my Roman show yesterday, a guy approached me and said. "I really liked the show, but could I give you some advice?...Don't take so many sips of water. It really upsets the momentum." Bloody good advice.

The best use of quotes!

My Roman show has been okay so far. The first one wasn't great. I was very tired. The second one went a lot better because I was well rested. No reviewer would ever take that into account, but it is such an important factor. The difference between me doing a good show and not can often be a pair of ear plugs and a black t-shirt draped over my head to keep the light out. Again, if I were a better performer it wouldn't phase me so much, but saying the right thing in the right tone in the right way takes a brain that is operating at its best, and when it doesn't, I don't.

My first performance of Better Off Ed couldn't have begun worse. I went to the venue and realised that the room they gave me was a landing above the main bar. I went up to somebody working there and said "Where's the venue?" and he said "You're looking at it." By 7.45 there were 2 Swiss people sat down, trying to think up ways to leave. By 7.50 3 girls came up and said "We're just ordering some food. We'll come back up." Some other people came up and sat down and said "Is this the improvised musical?" and I said "No...but I could improvise one, I guess" and they walked off. I watched the girls order their food at the bar and muttered out loud "Just pick a burger for God's sake. No...don't get onion rings too." The Swiss couple were looking in their magazine for other shows they could go to.

Finally the girls came up and we started at 8pm. I had 45 minutes to do the show and, somehow, after some reluctance, it worked. It was fun. They were 5 very nice people and we had a nice time. At the beginning, their faces were sceptical. By the end, they were beaming and thanking me and putting money in the bucket. And that's what I like about performing. It was a lovely little show. It won't always be. Instead of 3 nice girls, I'll get three heckling men. Instead of a nice Swiss couple, I'll get some very confused, hostile Russians. No offence Russians. Or men. But I realised the show is about. It's no great message. It's not an original thought. It's simply about being in the moment. It's the only way to really live and it's the only way to perform. Other than that, it's out of your control.

Who wants to join The Muder Friends?

With today’s unstable economy and shrinking job market, there has never been a better time to get involved in organised crime. I am pleased and proud to announce the formation of a new crime family: The Murder Friends. Check out themurderfriends.com or follow us on twitter for all our crime-related news. NB: Retweeting heist details to the FBI is a frownable offence.

OUR MAIN CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES

STATIONERY – Everyday, millions of people work in office jobs they despise which lead to millions of stolen revenge stationery. My crime organisation would buy the stationery at a small price and then sell it back to the companies where it came from. It’s win win. The only bums taking a hit are the companies, but are you telling me that those multi-million pound global conglomerations don’t got stapler insurance? Geddoudahere.

SCRATCHCARDS – They’re stuffed into all the worst papers to try and improve readership among the scratch card using classes, so if a few go missing and come into my hands? Whatsacomeandago?

PROSTITUTION – Generally against it, but if prostitutes want to buy educational textbooks from our associates or sign up to an evening class in accountancy that we can help arrange? Fageddaboudid.

CARD GAMES – We will run executive card games where gamblers will lose large amounts of matchsticks. Once we have enough matchsticks, we will have a controlling stake in the matchstick industry. Other games: Boggle and Kerplunk. Vafancooler.

MONEY LAUNDERING - I read an article about this on wikipedia, but the doorbell went and I'm none the wiser.

OUR POLCIES

PASTA – We like to spend the day eating big bowls of steaming pasta, particularly when we have nothing better in. SomethingaboutItaliansausage.

RATS – Rats are people who talk about our activities to the police. Named after rats, who are famous for gossiping about criminal activities to the police. Generally our outlook on them is unfavourable, but we take it on a case by case basis. Whaddajoik.

HIERARCHY:
BOSS: The Head of the Family.
CAPO: The Captains who report to the Boss.
NIGHT CAPO: 11pm-6am shift.
THE MADE MEN: Our cloning project. We successfully animated a man made out of playdo, but his pronunciation of basic words was very poor. Whaddayagonnado?

FORTHCOMING EVENTS
- Overnight camping at the Plymouth Aquarium. What’s it like sleeping with the fishes? Your questions answered.
- A turf war with the Yardies. Bring sandwiches or salads to share. We hope that they’ll provide with some of their delicious jerk chicken. A waterproof poncho will cover us in the event of both rain and blood.