Indulging the Unusual - Unusuindulgence

It has begun. The process of doing weird things just to talk about them on the radio.

For me, the blogging and the radio have been hugely helpful in forcing me to be creative. I am someone who definitely needs fairly short-term deadlines to work towards, even if they are self-imposed. It is when I get into that mindset that I blog often, and since having radio shows every weekend it has become normal to work towards them through the week, rather than being a lazy sponge and watching weeks slip away fruitlessly.

In the sort of life-affirming seminars that get booked by schools and are forced upon children, a lot of importance is put on the taking of opportunities. One in particular that I remember touched largely on half-chances, and on how you should grasp and indulge every half-chance, because you never know what that could amount to. It was a similar philosophy that led me to take the music gig last Friday, and it will certainly, at least I hope, continue to inform my decision-making. But the sort of half-chances that I want to talk about are of a less serious variety.

During the gig, which was for charity, there was to be an event where the audience would be encouraged to throw pound coins at a bottle of Baileys, with the nearest thrower winning the bottle. I was asked whether or not I would like to be in charge of this activity, which I turned down automatically, as the thought of actively having to corral the drunkest members of the audience was not one I relished. As I thought it over by myself, however, I realised that I had to be involved in it. My childhood enjoyment of commentary kicked in and I suggested that both I and the organiser should run the event, and commentate on the throws. I thought this would be a weird and enjoyable experience, which it was, but foremost in my mind was the prospect of doing the radio show the next day and declaring that I commentated on a game where drunk people threw pound coins at a bottle of Baileys. And I was paid for it. I was quite surprised as I asked for each new competitors name, how docile their reactions were. It took me by surprise that simply having a microphone, and having already been on probably helped, put me as quite a figure of authority. The reactions I received were the reactions of people who were speaking to someone who knew what they were doing, while I was, at that point, massively winging it. That, I suppose, is really the key to genuinely being in control. I was a lot calmer and more casual while performing on Friday, and I think that helped, I certainly enjoyed it more, and it felt less like a recitation and more conversational.

The whole ethos of saying yes and going for silly things has probably seeped into our worldview in part thanks to Ray Peacock, who is a bastion of willfully daft eccentric behaviour. We haven't quite got to his level of not worrying about things, but I'd like to think we are on that path. I am using 'we' to refer to The ACRE, I am not being overly bombastic.

When I drove up to Dafydd's house to pick him up on Saturday, he was being accosted on the doorstep by two Jehovah's Witnesses. There're always two, a master and an apprentice. He flashed me a huge grin through the middle of them as I parked up, and he tells me that the belly laugh I let out at that point was audible to him. It later came out that he had been talking with them for quite awhile, keeping them talking because he knew I would turn up soon. It amused me all the more to know that he had indulged them at the door purely to amuse himself and me, which in itself, for me, was more amusing and noteworthy than being accosted by the religious in the first place.

I hope we can keep true to this silliness and open-minded indulgence of the unusual, those two very small occurrences brightened up my weekend no end.

the end.

Weekend Round-Up

From this weekend's experience it seems that only doing a Saturday show is a very good decision. We were really up for it, and I think it was one of the most solid shows we've done for ages.

Similarly, having the Sunday completely free to loll around being lazy and spending the entire day simply reading was an immensely enjoyable thing.

Last Friday there were several odd events that I didn't write about as I was planning on talking about them on the radio, so I'll do a quick recap of them now.

I have a standup routine about how I am unable to deal with kids, and given that I work in a room full of them everyday, its probably surprising how seldom new bits get added to that routine. The routine is set up as combating the 'kids say the funniest things' attitude, as in my experience their utterances tend to be on the highly annoying/brain numbing spectrum. Last Friday, however, I witnessed a kid saying something which amused me, and I decided I would commandeer this comment for my own comedic ends. When I actually got on stage, however, I forgot to add it in, so I'll tell it here instead.

I was in the toilet, washing my hands (in the sink hur hur hur), and a kid came in and asked me whether I had seen his friend. I indicated to him that I was in the toilet, and therefore had seen no one. He quickly understood his foolishness, but decided to awkwardly stay in the toilet regardless. He stood right up against the sink, staying there even when I moved away to dry my hands, so I commented that he must be very fond of the sink. He replied: "Yeah, it's my brother-in-law". While this isn't incisively hilarious, it was quite the surreal swerve ball, and I was quite amused. And then I kicked him out. Kicking out is the only language they understand. Apart from English. And some of them speak Welsh as well.

It was a fairly unconventional gig for me on Friday, I was originally meant to be compering a music gig, but it panned out so that I was actually doing two five-minute spots in between the bands. It went quite well, although the second set suffered because of the drunkenness of the audience and the state of shouty-excitement they had been whipped into in the meantime. It is possibly my failing that I couldn't win them around the second time, but instead I opted to call my set short and bring on the last band early. I think it was a correct decision.

After the first bit I fled the room. I was there completely on my own, so I figured it would be slightly weird to tag on to the end of a table after having just been on, so I escaped to the main bar. Whilst I thought I had secluded myself in an alcove, I had in fact sat myself right in front of the main door, so every single smoker in the crowd filed past me during this time. Most just passed through, though some stopped briefly and said "that was funny", which was really nice. I think it's probably par for the course that the comments I will remember will either be the negative or the boggling ones. Luckily I've not had any explicitly negative comments as of yet, and one of Friday's feedbacks is easily the most boggling.

A slight man, probably in his late teens, came up to me, looking slightly bedraggled and bemused. I haven't much experience of conversation with people on drugs, so this was quite easily the most stoned I have ever seen a person, but I would hazard a guess that he was very fucking stoned indeed. His opening gambit was: "Heeeeeeeeeeey! Mister Comedian!". It was an example of, literally, high camp, and I really wasn't expecting it as I attempted to cool down with a glass of water. I laughed in his face, which he seemed to enjoy. He followed this up with: "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! Bill Hicks!". As I look back on it, I wish I'd replied: "I think you've mistaken me for somebody else", but in the moment I replied: "Yes, he is a comedian". He then asked me about Ricky Gervais and the IT Crowd, before admitting that he would say something about the set I had just done, but that he was so stoned it went over his head. I think I like the fact that he didn't engage in any way with the act, but felt it was necessary to come up and talk to me. I say 'I think I like it', because I am not really sure. It did amuse me. If I shamelessly morphed comments that people had given me after gigs together, I could describe my act as being 'a borderline surreal, byzantine and labyrinthine Bill Hicks'. Which sounds amazing, and anyone who'd want to see my act on the strength of that description would be incredibly disappointed.

I was very pleased after the gig, and this carried over into Saturday, and hopefully into the shows. The show after ours (3-5pm) is presented by a group known facetiously as ACRE Jr, made up as it is of younger siblings of 2 of the ACREs. BUT WHICH ONES!?

It was the birthday of one of the ACRE Jrs, so I celebrated by manhandling him off the windowsill (but what was he doing there!?) carrying him on my shoulders in a reverse torture rack position, before 'eliminating' him over the top of a settee. I did this not by, as is conventional, dumping him off my shoulders, but by throwing myself bodily over the settee, still carrying him there. We ended in a crumpled explosion on the floor, stuck upside down because our arms were entangled. I then later forced him to play an Arthur Isherwood track, the medley 'Happy Birthday/One Year Closer (To the Grave)'. The track begins as a grizzled tearjerker over the top of plinky old-school piano, complete with buzzing vinyl pops, but then morphs into contemporary death metal, eventually including more experimental death-ska. It is painfully disparate and chaotic, especially at the ridiculous volume we played it in the studio. I capped this off by climbing on the desk, and adding the the screamed vocals 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' in studio. I felt it was appreciated. And just hated in general. (Appreci-hated, hahahaha, I got paid to tell jokes last week so shut up). That track can be downloaded from our website.

Here ends the entry.

Late Night Gig Update

Hello everyone, I felt it was my duty to provide feedback and closure on the gig tonight, as I made such a fuss over it.

It went very well, it was a seated crowd so that didn't cause an issue. Luckily, I was introduced with such vigour that the chatting subsided and most people were paying attention when I started, which meant I didn't have to battle to get attention.

I tried a lot of new jokes, as well as finding a use for the pink trilby I bought in Bristol oh so long ago, and also reading some poems. I am very much enjoying spreading myself out creatively. The specific material I did about the charity worked quite well, which is heartening. Its the only time I'll ever do it I imagine, but nice to know that one off writing can still pay dividends.

The bands were amazing, I ran out of the room to hide during Tiger Please, because I knew I had to go back on, so I had to stay in the zone like Ken Shamrock. It was an acoustic set from their guitarist and their singer, with a lot of covers but plenty of their own stuff as well. I am currently listening to their Seasons EP, which is outstandingly accomplished given how young they are. The singer does not look as if he could possibly house the voice he has, and he was lovely when I met him afterwards. I hope they become as massive as they look like they will become, if only so I can have a handy, but lame, claim to fame story.

Magden Audio, the members of which had organised and run the night where worse for wear for drink when they took to the stage, but their barefaced apologies when they messed up amused me greatly. They hit their stride after a few cockups and the energetic headbanging that followed is more tribute to their performance than any sentence of mine could be. They were awesome.

I will likely share some interesting tales from what happened in my next entry, I'll be talking about it on the radio I imagine, though some of it isn't suitable.

I trust you are doing magnificently.

Pip pip.

Also, I got paid £20 for my clowning, I do believe this means that I have 'made it'.

Yep, It's Still Shining

I probably shouldn't have left it so that my post last week didn't have a conclusion, that was slightly inconsiderate of me. It's the sort of thing that would annoy me as a reader. So my apologies.


The gig went quite well, I did eventually get gonged off because instead of telling jokes I floundered and repeatedly called god a cunt, but in doing so I raised £4 for charity, so maybe there is a god after all. But he is definitely a cunt.


I was able to try out my new story, which was an excellent opportunity as I was then confident enough in it to use on Monday, where I took part in the second heat of the Welsh Unsigned Standup Act competition, which I did really well in, I am through to the semis. I will need to pull my socks up a bit if I want to have any sort of chance in the next round, which is in July.

I think all the fussing and second-guessing that happened last week was definitely worth it, as stressful as it was at the time. It is a process I think I'll have to go through for all new material, just to be certain that I have enough of a grasp on it, although I am hoping that as time goes on the chances of completely blanking like I did in Neath will fall away, eventually becoming 0. I suppose the more material you have the more there is to call upon should things go belly-up. Similarly, the more confident you get as time goes on, the more you'd be able to confidently cover and fill without feeling as though things will crash if you veer from material. Throughout this paragraph I have slowly replaced the term 'I' with the term 'you', I don't know whether this illustrates that my comments are just baseless hypothetical conjecture or whether it's just a trick to distance myself from my own comments.


I automatically use 'you' where I mean 'I' a lot, and it annoys me. It's linguistic trickery, where I remove my agency from the comments, so that it sounds hypothetical and passive, rather than sounding as though it directly involves or represents my opinions.
A little bit of meta-linguistic introspection for you all there, I can only imagine that you are all fascinated and delighted with it.


In only slightly less solipsistic news, we've been slogging away on the sketches, with Hard Reset now joining Just Another Minute on our youtube channel. The feedback we've received has been positive which is great, but I am bracing myself for the eventual, inevitable swathe of 'epic emo gay faggot'-style bile which I figure washes everywhere in the turgid typhoon which is the internet.


When it comes I will say to them (herein referred to as 'The Haters):


Do you know who I am!? I am a Semi-Finalist.


Yes indeed, that'll give them pause for thought.

The Sun Shines Out of Mine

My day today has been coloured by a constant niggling level of nerves, due to having a gig in Swansea tonight.


I've written new stuff to flesh out my set, and been occupying myself by running and re-running through the set in my head, recording it and replaying it to myself and making a bullet point list of the running order of it in a series of tedious attempts to remember it.


My all-in attitude to memorising this new stuff comes from having blanked completely during my last gig and being left on stage open-mouthed and silent, looking like a grade-a bellend, and no mistake.


I've reverted to my old tactic of attempting to mesh the material in a (perhaps somewhat contrived) narrative flow, so that it is less staggered, and therefore, in theory, easier to remember. It seems to be working so far, and actually outlining the blow-by-blow of the material (this is a pun given the nature of the set, so I will titter to myself) has helped no-end in committing it to memory. Of course all this blathering might be hugely premature, only time will tell. I also plan on putting the bullet points on my hand before I go on, which I've not done before, but I think it's necessary, I want at all costs to avoid the complete blank that happened before.


I am a lot happier with the new material than I was with the stuff I had planned to say before I blanked, which I think will also be a lot of help. Being genuinely enthused by the things you want to say is likely a much better catalyst than trying to remember a story that you think people are going to react badly to. I also hadn't learnt it well enough.


This entry has devolved quite quickly into anxious hypothesising, it is essentially the blogging equivalent of rubbing palms together or biting your fingernails.


So in a slight change of focus, I am quite awed by how difficult it must have been to attend far-flung nights without the aid of e-mail, satnav and google maps. I have a spot tonight in a bar which I've never visited, and despite this I not only know exactly where it is, thanks to google maps, I also know where I'm going to park, as well as being aware of several alternatives should those spaces be full.


I am very grateful for all this technology, if I had to potter around Swansea by myself looking for the venue on the night, I think I would be reduced to a gibbering nervous wreck. Even as it is I am not wholly comfortable with the process, I get infused with a mix of excitement, of feeling very grown up indeed, and then with an acute feeling of being very clearly outside my comfort zone, which probably isn't hugely conductive when I am attempting to remember a new story I plan on telling.


I'm sure the only answer is to heed the advice that the Pub Landlord would surely give, which is to SNAP OUT OF IT!


The gig tonight starts quite late, so I am confident that I'll get there with plenty of time to spare, and I will use the time beforehand wisely, running through my set like I should have done before, where instead I sat staring into the middle-distance like a vacant dolt. That's right, a dolt.


This blog is a burst of rampant solipsism, I must apologise. Hopefully it hasn't been too nauseating getting to see the view of the inside of my brain, which seems to be lodged squarely up my own arse.


This has been an exercise in releasing nervous energy, if it's not enough I will have to torture a kitten or something, who knows.


Expect a blow-by-blow post mortem of the gig tomorrow. Actually, don't.