My Sketchy Bank Holiyesterday

Since yesterday was a day where the banks were on holiday (hence; Bank Holiday = ETYMOLOGYTASTIC!?) both myself and my ACREmpatriots spent the day playing with creative equipment, attempting to bash out some more sketches to showcase on our youtube channel.

Sometimes our slapdash, last-minute approach to sketch writing makes me slightly nervous as to whether or not certain ideas will be funny or not. These nerves are further compounded by the knowledge that if we got a sketch filmed, we would definitely put it out regardless. I think I should've learned to have faith in our funny bones by now.

I was ill in the run up to the filming day, so I wasn't bringing any ideas to the meeting, but luckily my dearth of new ideas didn't spread to my ACREolleagues, who both brought funny nuggets that we spent the day nurturing.

The first idea we worked on, Sampson's, was a parody of old instructional videos. Sampson turned up in combat slacks, so the idea was to have a video helping a soldier reintegrate into society. This sketch will probably seem the most polished by the time we're done with it, because so much of it is done in the editing, specifically a patronising voice over and sound effects (cheesy ones). We observed that the extent to which the video was defined by props that came to hand was ridiculous, but delightful. The various 'steps' of how to reintegrate were almost completely informed by various items we found around the house we were filming in. Hopefully this won't come across as slapdash in the finished sketch, it is, however, meant to seem random. We were quite pleased with the flexibility of the way we film, and how we can adapt the sketch to implement these silly props, but in the end it all depends on how funny it looks. We edited the majority of it together, and we were still giggling by the end, so I suppose that augers well. The voiceover is still to do, and we're planning to release it tomorrow, the same time as the podcast. Fingers crossed.

The second idea was to do another mock-news report using my Benjamin Bold character, which I was quite pleased with. I am glad that we are happy and confident in suggesting that we integrate other members' characters into new ideas. The actual topic of the mock-report, however, would require filming in a variety of locations, and as daylight would likely abandon us mid-filming, we decided to put the sketch on the backburner, until we can plan it properly and dedicate an entire day to the filming. I doubt I'll wear the toothbrush moustache for Bold this time around, perhaps I will research other fascistic facial hair and have it on a rota-system for him.

So in the end we decided to film the third idea instead, which was a much simpler, straight sketch proposed by Dafydd. Writing and practising the sketch, which was just a conversation between the three of us, was reminiscent of the first time Sampson and I decided on the topics of our first material. Hard to believe that was over a year ago now, but it was heartening to realise that we are still committed and on the same path, knowing that the decision to get creative wasn't a flash-in-the-pan fad.

The three of us had a meal in The Billygoat's Gruff (pub anonymised) and workshopped turns of phrase for the sketch ad nauseam, until we had a huge list which we cherry-picked from. The assumption there is that we actually came up with some cherries, which, of course, you'll have to be the judge of. I had one single pint of cider with my meal, and devolved into something of a mess, which, as a young male, is something of an embarrasment. It would be very cheap for me if I become an alcoholic. We commandeered the function room upstairs, since Dafydd is an Ogreman at the Billygoat's Gruff (this changing the pub name lark is probably confusing) and so we had the run of the empty room. I had expected the room to be akin to the dingy pits which pass for function rooms in these parts, and so I was very pleasantly surprised. It was genuinely classy up there, which will hopefully add to the sketch, although when I took a preliminary glance at the footage it looked quite dark, so it may end up seeming quite moody and gritty, which will contrast (hopefully comedically) with the actual sketch.

The last sketch was the hardest to film, because it was quite late by this point, and we were all flagging slightly. Not wanting to name any names but Luke Samspon specifically proved a handful, with me and Dafydd having to coax him into action like children poking a spiderweb with a stick in order to rouse the spider. Luckily we all kicked into action eventually, though that episode may prove to be the point where the historians look back and nod sagely and declare that it was all a tragic inevitability.

If our comedy endeavors ever bear fruit commercially, I can envision a time when we will have to struggle with the rampant diva side of Sampson's personality. It'll get us some publicity I suppose.

I don't think I've played it up enough to be really ridiculous here, so the accusation that Sampson is a diva may sound like a real criticism. It isn't meant to be.

The funniest moments of the recording process, for us, often come when we mess up, which is why we put a blooper after every sketch. Quite innocuous things can seem substantially funnier because of the strained and contrived situation that filming/acting is. Because we are so aware of what is meant to happen and what is meant to be said, any deviation from this can be stupidly funny.

It takes us ages to film stuff, far longer than it probably should, because of how dedicated we are to trying to make each other laugh, rather than sacrificing the laugh in the moment to make sure the sketch gets filmed and is funny. It's a similar thing in the radio, when I would sneak hidden abusive messages to Dafydd in the playlist information to throw him off his game when introducing songs. When we were filming the conversational sketch in the function room, Sampson brought us out of our slump and injected energy into the proceedings using two novel methods which I will now outline.

In the first instance, he picked up a number of bar mats before flinging them individually, Gambit-style, across the room at his camera, each time repeating "Muh-fucka". Apparently, this was an impression of Ike Turner.

The second method was to give us a quick run-through of his 'Hitler's Mother Sketch', in which Hitler's mother is characterised as a loud, shrill, stereotypical New Yorker Jewish woman, which is both reductive, xenophobic and mesmerising in equal measure. It is impossible to not get swept up in the passion of the performance, in which Hitler's Mother offers him advice as though shouting up the stairs to her reclusive son, advice such as; "You've got to get ayngree Aydolf, they won't listen to ya if you're not ayngree".

I'm not sure yet which of those will appear at the end of the sketch, 'Hitler's Mother' is hilarious, but possibly offensive. I am uncertain how easily misconstrued that performance would be. We'll see how it looks in the recording.

In other 'me-being-involved-in-comedy-on-youtube' news, the video roundup on the Welsh Unsinged Standup Act (WUSA) Competition from my heat is up now, with me alphabetically placed at the beginning of the video, which is handy for people who want to see me in it (which is everyone, I am the king). My set was edited so that the very beginning and the very end appear on the video, which is interesting because it's a mix of my oldest jokes and brand new stuff I'd only tried that night, and the rude bits from the middle are gone, which means I can show it to my mother. Which is nice.

That video can be found here.

We should be releasing a new podcast and the sketch tomorrow, in which case I will be plugging away to my gut's distress, so keep your bananas peeled for that.

I hope you have a pleasant evening.

@adamgilder
acrecomedy@googlemail.com
www.theacre.net

E-Recycling

I thought I would celebrate the passing of another milestone, (a dubious milestone of 40 posts), I thought I would be lazy and plunder my own archives in order to pull a blog out of the past. This is my first true burst of blogs, though I did post an interesting (possibly) blog on MySpace, when it was still acceptable to be there. Technically this blog may not actually be serviceable, and it certainly is in a less sophisticated style than I am able to command now, boo-yah, but I feel it is, at the very least, interesting.

The story I tell in this piece came about when I had my face brutally wounded by an umbrella-swipe to the face, it is the farcical lies to explain away the scratch as something more epic.

The piece has been left mostly unaltered, though I have corrected the spelling. I was in the sixth form when I wrote this, so, from the distant mirk of Monday, February 20th 2006, here is my recycled tale:

Many people have asked me how I came about the scar which has appeared beside my eye awhile ago, and so to help everyone out I have decided to publish the official explanation.

It was a Tuesday when I decided that I would journey down the adventurous highway of the M4 to our fair capital city's airport, and depart on an exciting journey to the land known only as Japan.

The flight was eventful enough, but that is a tale for another time....

Upon landing in Tokyo I decided to take a stroll down one of the madly busy streets therein. There were many shops including a shop completely for the machines that you put money in and turn and a crappy ball with a crappy toy pops out, you know the ones, and also a shop where whack-a-mole machines went 360° on the walls. This trip was also eventful but is, again, a tale for another time.

I made my way to a shop which had piqued my interest. This was a smithy, stocked wall-to-wall with gleaming katanas. I decided that it was my destiny to purchase such a treasure, and so I persuaded the smithy, named Hakuya to allow me one of the aforementioned blades. I strode out of the smithy with a manic grin on my face. Little did I know that the blade I had come into possession of had bestowed upon me godlike skill in the bushido arts.

I proceeded back down main-street and embarked on an insane killing spree, visiting bloody death upon our eastern cousins. My love for the Japanese could not stop my manic fury.

Soon, I was brought down by a rag-tag band of heroes (as is customary in Japan) and I was shipped out via stealth fighter to a remote province of China which will remain unnamed. It is my belief that the Japanese had ulterior motives in shipping me there, deeply rooted political reasons.

Upon being dumped in the backwater wasteland that was this region of China I was struck unconscious. When I came to I regarded my surroundings with awe and shock. I was in a Panda's Nest. Never before have human eyes fell upon the legendary nest of the vicious giant pandas of China. Suddenly, 3 Panda's began hatching from their black and white spotted eggs. The newborn pandas were among the most brilliant things I have ever seen. I named them Kawaii, Mugen and Jonas.

Suddenly the nest was surrounded by a vicious horde of urchins, armed to the teeth with ridged bamboo weapons they planned on killing the pandas ironically with blades shaped from their source of food. I drew my hallowed blade and smote the grungy urchins where they pranced.

Although I was swift with my protection only two of the pandas were saved, my blade was too docile for Jonas to live. There and then I swore to spend my life travelling China, Japan, Thailand and surrounding lands honing my skill so I could one day be powerful enough to protect pandas everywhere.......

With my pandas at my side I am invincible........

This version of events differs from the spoken version as a published edition may cause slight offense to certain parties (such as orphans/pandas and Godzilla).

No pandas were harmed in the retelling of this tale....... the same cannot be said of urchins........

*****

I am quite proud of the way this story was told, though I wish I had written more of the 'tales for another time' since now I have no idea what they were. Similarly I have utterly forgotten what I said during verbal editions of this story. Ah well, you live and lose, some things are better left lost.

The idea of panda nests makes me smile, even now.

In three and a half years since this blog first saw the light of a computer screen I have grown up not a jot. All hail to the panda samurais.