A disaster waiting to happen?

Transport update: I’m starting to get sick of public transport.

Dog update: No developments.

So drugs. Going on stage is a weird experience. Stand up is addictive, I don’t think that it’s the actual act its self, I believe it’s the adrenalin that get’s people hooked. The first few times I stepped on stage, I had an obscene amount of the stuff rushing through my veins, it was the best high I’ve ever experienced in my life (and I’ve jumped out of a plane).

 “Adrenaline is the body's activator, and is released in response to anxiety, exercise, or fear. This is the basis of the so-called 'fight-or-flight' reaction. When an animal is threatened, the options are usually either to stand its ground and fight, or run away as fast as possible. Both responses would require extra supplies of blood and oxygen in the muscles.” http://www.ch.ic.ac.uk/rzepa/mim/drugs/html/adrenaline_text.htm

After the gigs the feelings I’ve experienced are a bit of an anti climax. A guilty-coming down feeling as though I’m going cold turkey. Maybe it’s because the adrenaline my body has produced has not been utilised in a ninja type fight or a in the pursuit of meat. I discussed this topic with a colleague this afternoon, his suggested that perhaps this is due to stand up or any form of performance, being a bit egocentric. Perhaps this was my guilty inner monologue telling me to stop being such an attention seeker.    

My obsessive mind however, has turned away from comedy somewhat, I have not woke up every morning this week with it being my first thought. I have little interest in booking more gigs as I have had heavier things on my mind. I do not plan on using this blog as a form of therapy so I shall not divulge further. I realised I need escapism not in the form microphone but rather a holiday.

I was speaking to my good friend Lee, he lives in San Francisco. Spontaneous as I am, I have booked some annual leave to go and visit him and his wife Rachel. This evening I plan on booking my flights. I have some concerns however as historically there has been a ‘disastrous’ pattern to my destination choosing:

September 2004- Turkey- following terrorist attacks

July 2008 Rhodes- Forest fires

January 2009 India- Terrorist attack in Mumbai

March 2010 The Philippines- Mayon Volcano erupted

March 2011 Athens Greece- Riots, petrol bombs and political unrest

June 2011 California…..please earth do not quake.

Stranger danger

Transport update: Today I left some Satsuma rind in a neat little pile on the 306 bus. I feel very guilty about this and I would like to apologise to anyone who wanted to sit there but was put off, I’m sure it wasn’t very a-peeling! Get it? GET IT?

Dog update: Poppi has been bathed and her fur looks massive now making her look a bit fat. I hair dried her as she lay across my lap half falling asleep…what a life.

 I have worn flat shoes for four days off the trot both day and night. Today my legs feel like curly fries. My hamstrings are as tight as tight can be.

Yesterday I had a real ‘adult’ moment. I went to a garden centre with my husband and spent £30 on plants and necessary things for al fresco living. There was a time when I’d have considered this a complete waste of time and a drain on my top shop budget.

Saturday evening was gig number 24. I travelled to Scarborough with Mr Lovett and Lee Kyle. What a journey to make, and what for? To make strangers laugh for ten minutes. What an absurd exercise! My hair wasn’t quite dry upon leaving the house and so I donned the old rollers en route to the gig. We were also running a bit late to have any tea so I munched a McDonalds in the car. It was at this point that Lee Kyle informed me I am ‘very working class’ I’m not sure what that means the ‘very’ bit, I’m offended regardless (lie I’m a bit proud of my common demeanour) Lee Kyle also thought it’d be a funny idea for me to wear the rollers throughout my set. I nearly did this because I’m an idiot. I am pleased that I opted out of this however on account of the Royal Hotel Scarborough being a bit of a posh establishment (not for the working class).

I tried some new material out. In retrospect I should leave new material to new material nights not to “two hour drive to Scarborough” nights. The thing is though, I really enjoy writing new stuff, I like the creativity behind it. I love the adrenalin rush of being on stage but I just want to keep it fresh. Some of my material worked some not so much, I laughed a bit on stage at my ‘not so much’ material-that’s quite bad really isn’t it to be the only one to laugh at your own joke *cringe*. I sandwiched the new stuff amongst old gold though so I left on a big laugh. Good show.

We bailed in the second interval in pursuit of fish and chips. You’d think that such a town as Scarborough, a once popular seaside holiday retreat as this would have plenty fish and chip shops wouldn’t you? Well alas no, we resorted to eating at a kebabery called ‘Samantha’. (We realised upon closer inspection it was actually named Samanta but that’s not as funny) I struck up a conversation with an inebriated local; she had dirty hands and a black eye. She implied I was simple for photographing the microwave, I guess I can’t argue with that really can I?

Last week a man in Asda started talking to me at great lengths regarding the style of his neighbour’s windows and how he didn’t approve of them. A guy I met on the train from Waterloo to Woking repeatedly and excitedly told me about his time in prison and how he’s been out for 4 years and 8months. He said once he got so mad he smashed his telly. I responded with “well there’s never anything good on these days”

Maybe I should stop chatting to strangers?

Iliad Mentalist

Transport update: Nothing to update.

Today I posted a 5 minute recording of myself for the BBC new comedy award competition. How very exciting is that? Mr Smith and Mr Hadingham recorded and edited it for me.

How kind indeed!

Tonight I’m dining at my parents’ house. My parents are not home. My brother Ilias (or Iliad as word would like to call him…mantalios is always corrected to mentalist ilias’ word name is: Iliad Mentalist) Iliad is preparing some foreign muck for us to munch on. I shall partake of the rouge this evening to accompany my supper.  

How delightful indeed!

I have a gig to attend tomorrow evening with Mr Lee Kyle I might push him in the sea and dampen his flags…then what will he do?!

How cruel indeed!

Prior to the gig I have to clean my flat and make it presentable once more for I have not cleaned since February.

How unhygienic indeed!

Today I have been mainly planning a press release for a fund raising charity event. It’s going to be called “no laughing matter” starring: Gav Webster, Simon Donald, Kai Humphries, Andy Fury, Myself and Dave Hadingham. Mr John Smith will be my MC.

“I hate charity gigs” said John

“Will you MC my charity gig though?” asked Nicola

“Alright then” said john

How self sacrificing indeed!

Details to follow.

Peas out.

You know who your friends are

Dog update: 

Yesterday morning I heard tiny yelps from our spare room, I went to investigate. Poppi had one of her claws from her back leg caught in a tat in her chest hair. I saved her by snipping it free.

Transport update: 

This morning's metro journey to south shields was a bit annoying. I sat next to this large man who's knees were seemingly allergic to one another. He took up 80% of the seat and the heat from his massive thigh radiated through me and made me feel a bit sick.

Today I attended the second part of a 'mental health first aid' training day. It was quite interesting we had to do exercises  to show us what it'd be like if we were hearing voices etc. The over all message of the day was that if someone is suicidal don't encourage them to do it…right so glad you told me that!

On saturday I'm going to Scarborough with Lee Kyle and Stuart Lovett. With the purpose of doing a gig not just a little holiday, although that'd be nice. 

Burn your bra?

Last night was the 5th anniversary of Long Live Comedy at the Dog and Parrot in Newcastle. For those of whom don't know of it, it's an open mike night for new acts to give comedy a bash and for existing acts to try out new material. On the bill was Geroge Zach as MC, Gavin Webster, Andy Fury, John Scott and Kai Humphries as well as myself and Callum Cram. There was another guy who I haven't met before who had lots of silly props, he was fun. Callum (as resident sound man) had lots of silly intro music which made me laugh before the gags even began. It was an absolute cracker of a night. One of Gav's songs were stuck in my head for the rest of the night, he's a little bit awesome.

I performed a 5 minute set, the same set as I did at the North Shore gig the night before. It was well received, still room for improvement though (as Rebecca Stevenson might say) after each gig I try to tweak my material, its all part of the learning curve, the stage is my school.

I managed to get a couple decent shots of the acts, I bailed before the last section though my bed was calling me. Zach took a couple of me, most of them were blurry never mind pfft!

Upon leaving the gig I was stopped by a couple at the door. They excitedly began telling me how much they enjoyed my set, my feelings however, altered from feeling flattered to being extremely annoyed and this is why:

"Oh man I have got to say that for a FEMALE comedian you are really F***ing funny!" said the female audience member 

I realised that if I had of punched her at that moment she'd be more shocked than anything else, so I decided to politely thank her then walk away. I mean you wouldn't go up to a doctor and say:

"you are a really good doctor considering you're gay"

"hey Martin Luther King, you're a canny president for a black guy"

(he was black wasn't he?)

 I appreciate that there aren't very many female acts on the circuit and that there's a stigma against comediennes. I have not set out to prove anything I'm not on a "women are hilarious" campaign, nor am I an extreme feminist. The fact that I don't have a willy doesn't come in to the equation, the successful male acts on the circuit, do they get their comedy power from their tadgers? (some might) comedy comes from your perspective of the world around you and a level sensitivity as to what others find funny. I'm not about to burn my bra as its a nice la senza one and they don't come cheap. 

Women audience members are a female comics biggest challenge. In the first 10 seconds of being on stage you are being picked apart visually, with in that time frame people decide whether they like you or not. If you focus on this fact then you'll go insane with paranoia, so I just get up there and enjoy myself despite my lack of a schlong. 

I was approached by a lady from the BBC the other day who is wanting to prove that women can be funny. She wanted me to say my favourite joke. I told her that my stand up stuff doesn't work like that and it'll just sound out of context and weird. She then asked me who my favourite TV stand up was my reply:

"I don't think that stand up WORKS on TV, I prefer live comedy with an intimate audience.."

In retrospect I don't think this was the best thing to say to a BBC person. Cack.

Mr John Smith

Dog update: Poppi has finished her period and is no longer wearing knickers (Poppi is my dog)

Public transport Update: Due to the work that’s taking place at North Shields metro, I’ve had to take the ferry as an alternative. I’ve enjoyed the mini cruise experience and it has been made more enjoyable recently what with the spring time weather. The ferry men are dead canny too, so there’s a nice bit of banter to start the day off.

This morning as I was about to board my cruise ship, I noticed that the passenger in front of me had a massively obvious brown poo stain up the butt crack of his grey jogging bottoms. My thoughts were:

1)     BLEURGH!

2)     Make a mental note of where he’s going to sit and never ever sit there

3)     Should I tell him?

I decided not to tell him because:

a)     I didn’t know him

b)     There was little he’d be able to do about it whilst on the ferry

c)      It was a bit funny him walking around with a poo stain.

So comedy. Last night was gig number 22 at north shore Sunderland uni’. Tony mars was the MC/organiser. The gig started out weirdly on account of lighting problems and sound problems and seating problems and unfunniness. So pretty much a walk in the park. Once they kind of sorted out the technical difficulties we were rolling. The audience were lit up (as in literally not as in they were delighted) which wasn’t great for putting them at ease or creating a good vibe. I performed a tidy 5mins that I’m hoping get the recording of for a competition, I had the attention of a group who were sat on the main floor, considering the set up, I was well received. I left in the interval to watch a movie about MAT DAMON. He’s got a bit of a weird nose like its flat on the end.

I told a lie and said I’d wrote a poem about John Smith, his mam asked where it was so I decided to actually write one.

Mr. John Smith.

The first time I ever met the man, he implied I was a slut,

From the heights of the stage in his mouth he placed his foot.

He’d noticed my shrill laugh, the banter then began,

Upon mention of car park rape though, I took my keys and ran.

Many a Friday eve’ was spent at his comedy club,

The idiot that grins found at your local pub.

‘Twas one of there fateful night’s I stepped up out the crowd,

This audience member, the one who’s laugh is loud.

I said a joke about a baker and mishaps with a scone,

John held my hand, stood by my side, my inhibitions gone.

From that moment forth I’ve been gannin like the clappers,

Writing silly jokes about fish and food and slappers.

The idiot gigs are really mint, deffo worth a gander,

Don’t sit up front though, for John your name will slander!

If you dare to eat nuts or crisps throughout any set,

Smith will have your life “WHO’S THAT MUNCHIN’ KET?”

Now John’s a bit of a bully, he has been all his life,

He likes to grief his marras and gives them plenty strife.

He loves to tease that funny Greek about his stinky breath,

His favourite though, his main past time is to slag off Dave Macbeth.

Bag pipes are rubbish.

Public Transport update: I got on the ferry again this morning, it was a pleasant journey if truth be told. In attempt to raise money for help the heroes, there was a bag piper (bag pipe player?) onboard which would have been lovely if I didn’t loath the sound.

I was walking down the street today and a ‘bus stop maintenance’ man wolf whistled at me, I have made it as a woman. I think I must look a bit awesome today though because a pleasant woman stopped me in the street and said she loved my ensemble-go me!

Ok, I would like to extend my apologies to those of whom I may or may not have offended/confused with my random face book wall posts. I feel that the cause may be down to the fact that I’ve had little sleep over the past two days and have consumed a copious amount of caffeine, that and I’m a bit of a freak (sexy freak)

I want to talk a little bit about sick humour if I may. I performed at a gig the other night where the topic of the Japan disaster was the source of one act’s material. The room was painfully silent through out, primarily it was a “oh no he did not just go there” silence but also his joke was lame as. The world is in shock right now and I honestly feel that is truly ‘too soon’ for these jokes. The BBC have released an article in their news magazine regarding this very topic, it’s entitled: Why do people tell sick jokes about tragedies? It’s really interesting if anyone fancies a gander here’s the link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-12775389

The comments at the end are also worth a read one guy said:

I think we have to take a view that either everything can be joked about, or nothing. As soon as humour is censored, it's the thin end of the wedge. Curtailing any form of expression towards the lowest common denominator is the 1st step to the complete erosion of freedom of speech and civil liberties. Humour may seem banal, but it's still an important outlet.

I don’t like the word banal. This guy does have a point though, we can’t set out rules for what can and can’t be said. A comedian however needs to take responsibility for their words. Its your prerogative to say what you want to say, be warned though it may be that you’ll be booed off stage/heckled or simply disliked. If you have a dark sense of humour naturally and are clever with your jokes then perhaps you’ll get away with it, if you’re just trying to shock or be something you’re not then why bother? A crap joke is a crap joke, a crap joke about a sensitive subject is just salt in the wound.

On a lighter note lets all laugh at John Cleese shout at his car (my favourite clip ever):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78b67l_yxUc

Dead pan? Like a flan in a cupboard?

I am more than aware that there has been a disconcerting silence here, I’m sure you have missed my witticisms greatly and thusly I apologise for my absence. I have been visiting family in Athens (that’s the capital of Greece, its not in Rome as a man in Paul’s Golden Chippy thought). I had a splendid time there catching up with family and brushing up on my Greek (language not George) the time spent was emotionally charged we laughed, cried and then ate. We ate a lot; you know when you’re so full that it’s a challenge to breathe quietly? When you feel annoyed that someone dare speak to you as the pain of responding is arduous? Well I reached the next phase and remained there until Sunday when I arrived back in England. My cousin and I sat down together and worked out our family tree from my Grandparents to us. In my family (Greek side only) there are 29 grandchildren (Inc me) and 35 great grandchildren. Clearly nowt on the telly then.

It messed with my mind that in one day I can go from wandering around the ancient acropolis of the Parthenon to then wandering around the foggy streets of North Shields. How foggy has it been though seriously! I’ve been taking the ferry to and from work and the journey home last night was like that end scene in the film children of men (not a rom com) I’ve enjoyed my ferry journeys actually, it’s a bit of a romantic route to work, better than the tunnel that’s for sure. My experiences with public transport over the past weeks haven’t all be so fairytale-esq however. I was trying to find my way to a carer’s home yesterday and stopped the bus four times asking where the Jeff we were. The bus driver, although nice enough, refused to take me directly to the address. I told him he was selfish and told the rest of the passengers on the bus that they were all useless for not knowing where I had to be. I’m a very polite person.

I performed at Richard Batt’s gig in Redcar last night (gig 21). Red car is such a pretty place (tongue firmly in cheek) upon arrival we witnessed a group of hoody donning teenagers force a girl in to a wheelie bin, I felt like making a citizens arrest but was deterred by the rest of our group. I travelled down with Stu (chauffer), Graham Oakes, Jack Gardener and the relentlessly chatty George Zach. The audience was lacking in diversity, it was primarily made up of massive men. Upon stepping onstage I received a bark of heckles from a collective of said massive men, I’m not sure exactly what they said; I politely declined purchasing a gazette and carried on with my set. I fairly sure it was something about my fine ass. I tried out some new material which went down well, chop chop here and there and it’ll be gold. Graham opened the night with little to no warm up from the MC and Jack scared the life out of the room with wor Betty Blue eyes, he makes me screech laughing (half from fear). George appeared to do well but half way through his act I went to the loo for a boblette so can’t comment on the full set.

I’ve been reading this book ‘Getting the Joke’ it’s not a self help or anything its more ‘Stand-up comedy studies’. The book contains discussions around different styles of delivery including the dead pan delivery. It argues that if you are naturally dead pan in your manner then that approach will work for you on stage, if however you are not and its forced, it will prove to be transparent, monotone and perhaps boring. Jack Dee is a good example of a successful dead pan act. He’s demeanour offstage mirrors his delivery and is punctuated with facial expressions and ‘instant characters’. After replaying footage from last nights gig, I realised I sounded dead pan. This has been an entirely subconscious transition and I’m not sure how I feel about it. My natural way of conversing, ranges up and down the scale followed by a loud laugh at whatever I’ve just found amusing, wild gestures and impressions. On stage though I appeared uncharacteristically straight faced and nonchalant, perhaps my material is over rehearsed and thus lacking lustre? Maybe I’m trying to hard to get away from my original character?

This being yourself malarkey is harder than it sounds. 

ASBO laugh

Dog update: Nothing to update.

I attended the Quack Quack comedy club at the Kings Manor Pub in Newcastle last night. Its a relatively new club, with a duck theme (might have guessed) the venue is really cosy and intimate, a lovely place to try out some new material or have your first bash at stand up. Phil Golder Organises it and he does a smashing job.

 I wasn't performing I just went along to support the acts, it was a really strong bill last night (pardon the pun) The lineup included: Rory McAlpine as guest MC, Andy Fury (miserable Jarra lad…he makes me giggle with his talk of lettuce and Ribena) , Nick Cranston, Flag man Lee Kyle,  Debut act Al c McWilliam and Luke Milford performing his 3rd gig.

Al McWilliam performed a tidy set and got some good laughs from the crowd, he lost his pace slightly after his statement 'there's no successful Alans!' to which the audience spouted out such suggestions as: "Alan Sugar, Alan Robson, Alan Shearer, Alan Partridge!" which got a big laugh. I think McWilliam has caught the comedy bug (not swine flu) we'll be seeing a bit more of him I reckon. I've heard most of the material Fury did last night, I was laughing in anticipation for what he was about to say, his lack of facial expression and dry delivery is what does it for me. I could watch him on loop. Lee Kyle tried some new flags out last night, again he's one of my absolute favouritest acts in the north east… also hails from Jarrow! hmm Nicola Mantalios-Lovett, Andy Fury, Lee Kyle, Sarah Milican all South Tynesiders! There must be something in the water we're a right funny lot.

Barry Fox, unconventional genius poet gave me a pamphlet of his works (which may or may not have had wee on), they made me hoot during the interval. I have a loud laugh, I remember a boy at school Jason Clarke telling me I had the most hideous laugh he's ever heard, even my parents grimace at times. A few years ago when I was just going to gigs as a punter John Smith from the Grinning idiot labelled my laugh 'the best laugh in comedy'  comedy clubs really are the only place my ASBO laugh is genuinely welcome.

I brought Elizabeth along last night (my camera) and took some rather smashing head shots of the acts, have a peak on my face book page I've loaded them on there. I'm enjoying my new 50mm lens and have muscled my way in to promoting some of the local clubs with my awesome skills. So there'll undoubtably be more of that sort of behaviour, you'll see me and wor Elizabeth loitering stage left.

I have to acknowledge however, that I laughed more during the journey ride home than I did at the actual comedy. Lee Kyle (9th best friend and flag lover) and I yelled 'nice' heckles at innocent passers by through the car windows. We were giggling like a pair of 17 year olds who've just passed their test and have their first fiesta to cruise in. 

The pedestrians' reactions are usually ones of bemusement and slight annoyance. Some examples of the heckles included:

"I BET YOUR SKILLS ARE VAST!"

"THERE'S NO SUCH WORD AS CAN'T!"

"THAT SEEMS LIKE A GOOD FRIENDSHIP!"

"IT'S THE TAKING PART THAT COUNTS!"

then the corker…

"I ADMIRE YOUR RESTRAINT!" which Lee spewed out at a gentleman who was stood outside a front door, innocently chatting to a lady. The idea was to shout nice/complimentary heckles, however this particular heckle, due to the context, seemed sinister and sounded a bit rapey. I nearly laid an egg laughing. Its my new favourite game to be honest its the only reason I left the house.

Hearing voices

Dog update: Poppi seems to have moved on to the mood swing section of her period, she keeps snapping at Stu for no apparent reason. He can be annoying mind.

Friday night was my 20th gig. I performed a 12 minute set at Dave Macbeth's gig, the Laughter Surgery, Gosforth civic Hall.

I drank about ten million red bulls before the gig and a few double vodkas, this wasn't the best idea I've ever had, I'm pretty sure I had a couple of palpations to add the immense adrenaline already surging through my veins. What is the best thing to drink before you go on stage? Too much wine and you become nonchalant and forgetful; too much caffeine and you vibrate across the room. I'm going to stick with the old lime and soda from now on, I'm a cheap date.

Simon Buglass was the guest MC. Macbeth MC'd Simon's MCing which was weird and seemingly confused and angered the audience a bit. I shared the stage with Simon Donald doing his character Barry Twyford, I've seen his act loads of times and it still makes me nearly vomit laughing, for me the highlight of his act was when he broke out of character and showed the V's at an innocent elderly barmaid who had just offered him some nuts.

Also on the bill; Lee Kyle (my 9th best friend although he doesn't know it) with more flag idiocy and the headline act Susan Murray.

The room was filled with a lot of regulars who were chatty and lively, but there to laugh. My esteemed comedy colleague and new found marra Graham Oakes did me the favour of recording my set so I'll tube bits of it for your viewing pleasure.

The venue was splendid complete with sparkly lights on the stage back drop and fancy dressing rooms…which I danced around in a bit. The energy from the room felt different from the gig the night before, being on an actual stage I felt detached from the crowd, cold almost, The gig at As you like it was full, probably about 150 in the audience yet it felt intimate, sharing the same floor, with the Laura Ashley style interior making it feel homey, I felt relaxed.

After my 19th gig at 'As you like it' being so successful, I decided to use the same material with a few tweaks here and there. I'd say the first 5 minutes of my material was a hit but then it seemed to fizzle. It just goes to show what makes some people roll in the aisles makes others just roll their eyes. I think I react to the audience if their energy is high and they're enjoying it I get more out of my jokes, enjoyment and laughter are infectious. I still received some big laughs and so I'm honing in on what’s most popular overall out of my material and developing that.

One of my work wives Emma Seagrave-Hindmarch described my telephone voice as ‘a Geordie Drew Barrymore’. My act has been compared a few times to Sarah Millican, there’s nothing wrong with this comparison, in fact it’s a bit of a compliment considering she’s brilliant and successful millionaire. At first however, I thought this was merely a lazy comparison in a sexist industry, sure we are both from shields and have vaginas but ha’way our material is well different! Admittedly though after playing back footage from previous gigs I can hear it’s not my voice.. As I pointed out in Friday’s blog ‘out of character’ my act has changed dramatically over the past 5 gigs. I think it’s fair to say that my original onstage character’s voice is a heightened version of my own, Drew’s and Sarah’s. So, I've critiqued myself and changed the way in which I deliver my material.

Apparently it can take some acts years to find their 'comedy voice' I guess I'm just learning my first words.

Out of character

Dog update: Poppi has pooped out yesterday’s alien knickers, a gross mixture of poo and cloth: a whole new meaning to being on your rag. (I’m sorry that’s so disgusting) She snapped at me when I tried to take a pair off her this morning, and then continued to sit in expectation of her morning treat; I still gave her it because she’s spoilt.

I have a house rabbit named angel, he waits each morning in the hall way for a chocolate button: this is the only interaction he’ll have with me. The fat get.

Last night was my 19^th gig! I performed at As you like it in Jesmond. It’s a beautiful place very nicely decorated inside, me and my esteemed colleague and 8^th best friend, Giselle Nejady, decided we’d like to live there.

I was performing alongside two great acts; Andy Fury and John Scott. Andy has this amazing confidence to improvise on stage, the sound of a cork popping distracted him and he did a whole bit on popping noises. John Scott wore a fez for some of his act, I like silly hats. Both acts made my tummy hurt from laughing. John Smith was the MC for the night. If it wasn’t for John I wouldn’t have even considered doing stand up, he’s pretty much my comedy mentor (gooey moment).

My original act was a highly stylised character; it had elements of burlesque and hinted towards a silly 1950s pin up with an air of feminism. This character was quite niche and so didn’t appeal to all. The character evolved from a bit I wrote ‘tips to be a good wife’ which originally was intended as a tongue in cheek dig at my husband for his negativity about me trying stand up. The character worked for that bit, however when I tried to write some new material and have the same character perform it, it just didn’t work, a tough lesson to learn in front of 150 people.

Comedy can be very competitive, there are plenty of acts who display arrogance, pride, back stabbing and bitchiness. I genuinely believe however that the Newcastle comedy circuit contains some diamond personalities. I value the advice and observations of my peers, whether it is praise or constructive criticism. If I fail massively on stage I don’t want some one to fill me with false hopes and tell me that I was great if I was quite clearly cack, I’d prefer them to say “this is how you can be less cack”.

These are some “how to be less cack” gems of wisdom I’ve received:

• Dan Willis: “If they aren’t laughing at a joke then drop it” (sounds obvious)
• Mick Ferry: “Drop the silly voice, you don’t need it” (racist?)
• Callum Cram: “stick to your material, too much audience interaction can open too many doors” (then he patted me on the ass)
• John smith: “Include more punch lines” (ah those old things)
• Dave MacBeth: “Don’t be too wordy” (what colour is the kettle? hehe)
• George Zach: “actually hold the microphone…and try some jokes about Greece”

So after listening to the constructive criticism from my fellow acts, I’ve re-written my entire set I’ve chopped and changed some old stuff and added some ‘funny ‘cause it’s true’ stuff.  The changes I’ve made evidently paid off judging by the audience’ reaction I think last night was my best gig to date and I’ve got a massive chuff on.

Balls to that.

Firstly a dog update: Poppi has eaten the first pair of alien briefs, all but the waistband. Excellent, I’m some what concerned about the state of her digestive system. Perhaps she’ll poo out a garment.

Today I’m thinking about priorities.

 I work full time for a charity in North Tyneside and part time for a similar charity in Gateshead. In both roles I work with adult and young carers, six days a week I face the same issues and I mainly just listen. This is really rewarding work but I often feel physically and emotionally exhausted. Then there’s comedy, of course this too can be very time consuming, you can find yourself performing numerous evenings out of your week, then there’s the writing and rehearsing or simply supporting your peers at their performances. Why am I doing this? I love it, is that a good enough reason? I only started it for a ‘bit of a laugh’ now it consumes my thoughts. I have no real career path in mind in terms of stand up yet I feel like I’m striving for something other than the mere enjoyment.

That’s work and comedy, then there’s all the other shiz such as; knitting, keeping up to date with music/fashion/art/the news, being nice to my husband, reading life changing literature, glitter, making sure there’s money in the bank, baking delicious cakes, not eating too much cake, having a clean bathroom, photography, seeing friends, walking my dog, cinema, remaining fabulous, getting enough sleep, exercising, eating guilt free eggs, ringing my mam, hugging my nieces and making the bed.

I remember an illustration I heard years ago regarding prioritising stuff in your life. So there’s a glass, four or five golf balls and a number of marbles. The glass is your life, the golf balls represent the important things and the marbles are everything else. The idea is that if you put the important things in life first (golf balls) then all the other stuff will filter in to place around them (marbles) Get it? The question is: how do you identify what are the golf balls in your life?

Recent family tragedies have jolted me in to recognising the fragility and vulnerability of even the strongest of our species (my dad). This has made me cherish my family, a definite golf ball. What about comedy though? Throughout these past traumatic weeks comedy has been a light relief for me, my respite from reality, a colourful bubble of silliness amongst a dark sad world. Laughter and enjoyment are vital but does this make comedy a golf ball? Or maybe it is an accessory to the bigger stuff, a pretty marble: to filter around what’s important. 

Touch on the taboo

(I feel that I should mention my esteemed colleague and 8^th best friend Giselle Nejady is sat opposite me attempting to distract me with her breasticles. For the most part it’s working)

Today I’m going to write some clever witticisms about stand up comedy and some social implications it has.

Firstly though, I’d like to talk a little bit about my dog.

She’s on her ‘six monthlies’ at the minute (in heat) and its necessary for her to wear knickers. On my lunch break I bought some 2-3yr old boys briefs with aliens on. She’ll be donning them this week. I hope she doesn’t eat these ones, she ate the ‘I heart ponies’ pair, glutinous bitch.

I’ve listened to a great deal of stand up comedy over the past few years, some of it has made me snort laughing, some of it has made me wish I had something to snort. I’ve noticed patterns immerge in the performances of my peers, namely the nature of the topics chosen for discussion and the way they are presented.

 I’d say the favourites amongst these twenty something, jean and t-shirt wearing, XY chromosomes are: normalising rape and glamorising paedophilia. I don’t mean to generalise or be sexist, this is simply an observation. I do love the freedom of the stage and I’m grateful that I don’t live in a totalitarian regime which denies the freedom of speech but haway! Kiddie fiddle jokes? Not cool.

All genres of art (yes I’m referring to stand up as an art) through out the years has pushed the boundaries of what is deemed socially acceptable in efforts to shock the public or touch on the taboo but I doubt there’s anything you can say that Frankie Boyle hasn’t already said so you aren’t shocking anyone. If a comic does offend an audience member then they can fall back “it’s just a joke”: that old chestnut. Really though is that a get out clause? Do we become desensitised to depravity in the ‘real world’? Or are we presenting such un PC ideas in such a manner that we highlight their ridiculousness? 

I have met many comedians who are seriously lacking in good interpersonal skills. This got me thinking; is this because, as a comic becomes more accustomed to discussing such debased subjects on stage, the line between what is and isn’t socially acceptable become more blurred?

Since I started writing comedy last year, I have tried to find the funny in almost every avenue in my life, I’m sure this can be annoying and tiresome to those around me. At times I believe I have made inappropriate comments because of my tuned in comedy mind. This is not to say I haven’t put my foot in it prior to stand up, my foot is usually in it. This has made me wonder: Does comedy make you socially clueless? Or do you have to be socially clueless to be a comic?

The peasant wagon.

This is my first blog; I plan on focusing my blogs on stand up comedy, and the north east of England, photography, travel and fashion, however today I'm in a grumpy mood and thus going to use this as self indulgent moan time. 

I work for a local charity and although I love my job I get paid in peanuts (which would be great if I were an elephant...incidentally my dad used to call me his baby elephant as a child…I have issues as an adult) because of the rising cost of, well everything, I’ve had to look at where I can save money. So for a short period of time I’ve given up the use of my car for daily commuting and I am now using the metro (tube/train), I’d like to say I’m doing this for environmental reasons but I’m not.

Getting the metro every day is great, if you enjoy being ensconced in other people’s breath. Today I over heard a conversation between two ‘gentlemen’ and was balled over by their witticism:

“Here I can smell a proper vanilla smell me, like a car freshener thing”

“arr aye me aunties got one of them they’re lush”

They then went on to discuss other pressing matters regarding the ‘polis’ (police) and wor lass’s ma needin’ to be telt (mother in law speaking out of turn)

The interaction between these two was actually light respite from some sights/smells on the peasant carriage. On Friday I watched a large person consume a Gregg’s cheese and onion pasty in record time, then she immediately fell asleep. She had one of those mouths that are never able to shut properly and you can always see a bit of tooth. The drool poured like a wet thread from her bottom lip and soaked in to the coated shelf that was her bosom, it visibly contained pasty particles. I wretched loudly at this sight, I longed for my car and the tedious Tyne tunnel traffic.

I haven’t ate a pasty in years and decided to purchase one this afternoon. This sounds aptly hypercritical considering my distain for drool girl. Karma decided to punish me for my negativity by causing the said pasty to burn my tongue. Is there anything worse than a burnt tongue? Perhaps this is the real cause of my grump.