Day Thirteen: Oh right, the GOOD show was a fluke

The rain came back just in time for me to head over to the Assembly Gardens where I had been invited as a token woman to do a spot at the launch of the Leicester Square New Comedian of the Year. It was in a big top but a small one. A tent essentially. Throughout the gig, you could hear the rain hitting the roof and the audience were sat on cushioned benches. The floor was made of slats of wood which I don't like. I've always been fearful of being able to see beneath. As a kid, I thought that I would fall through the railway bridge steps. I never did.

The audience were bored by the time I'd come on and I didn't have a great one. I was performing in front of some big acts who I'd like to have seen me have a good gig - and there's you thinking that it's about the audience, not about what other comics think of you. Wrong.

I headed off to Slappers and flyered for a bit. I actually did it with some enthusiasm today and we had a fuller room than we've ever had. There were a bunch of Edinburgh ladies in who were up for laughing and I didn't have too bad a gig there. Possibly the best I've had there so far (that's not saying much in that room). Darren Walsh did really well too. He's using Slappers to try new stuff rather than his own gig (fair enough).

Tagline: There are three punchlines in this photo of Darren, can you spot them?

Maz arrived after Slappers and we walked down to Pleasance to see David O'Doherty who was brilliant. I was quite sleepy and drifted off a few times but he had some brilliant stuff. I'm hardly ever a punter these days and am always watching the styles, material, timing and themes of pro comics and relating them to what I do. There is absolutely no use in comparing myself to anyone, from the new comer doing their first gig all the way up to Izzard and Pryor. But I find it interesting. 

We then headed down to Gagstro reluctantly. Maz flyered for us and got a few people in. The bar was quiet despite football being on. It was ANOTHER typical Gagstro. Quiet audience just staring, Mark getting angry and me bumbling around trying to get laughs out of talking to them. They were pretty unresponsive. One guy walked out because (Mark found out later) I had told off the other acts for talking at the back: "You shouldn't slag the other acts off." What does he fucking know eh? 

Once again, I struggled through. I asked them if they wanted me to do some material a few times to which they all said yes. I then started and stopped a few times just because it was hopeless. Someone from the crowd ("crowd" is an optimistic word at best) said that the best thing they saw was someone that clashes with our show, I called it and said that we would clash every day except Mondays. 

"Why not Mondays?" said someone.

"Because of the volume of the laughter, for the protection of our ears, we have to take one day off in seven. Any more questions." That got a laugh as did my bankers.

Our guest, Kishore didn't do badly. He didn't refer to the quietness at all. I wondered if that was the best thing to do or not. Really, I call it because I feel awkward. There is the possibility that these people were enjoying it but just weren't laughing and so to call it is confusing for them. I need to speak to someone more experienced about that really. 

Before I talk about me more, I went to see Nellie Wight's One Handed Show, the History of Pornography. No need to ask what it's about. It was 40 minutes long, it was interesting and funny and there were only four of us in the audience. There was more laughter from this audience than one three or four times the size at Gagstro. The four of us and Nellie had a lovely chat afterwards about porn and other fringe shows and what makes someone choose what shows to go to. That was a great hour to spend. 

So, they say that Edinburgh will make you or break you. I feel more of the latter. Dying on a daily basis is hardly esteem-building stuff. But maybe I need to be broken so I can build something else. Maybe it's time to put everything on the back-burner and start afresh. That's what Mark Stephenson did last year after Edinburgh.

All I know is that I'm happy to have buddies around at the moment and I'm happy to be seeing a load of good stuff. Tomorrow is Kitson and I may be reviewed by the Gay Times. I know, right?

Tagline: Happy birthday to the cutest flat mate ever! Romesh's kid, Theo is ad.dor.a.ble.

Day Twelve: Here's how it should be done

After two days off and one on, I had another day off. I don't do Mondays.

Today, I set out to enjoy myself and that, I did. 

One of my favourite comics on the open mic scene, Mark Stephenson, is doing a show round the corner from the flat and so I walked round. I had caught the show on a good day and the guys said that it was the best one they'd had having changed the running order. Mark Stephenson has ideas that I've had but never explored comically. Namely about Channel 4's newly found bigotry in Big Fat Gypsy Wedding. It's inspired me to think comically about anything that I feel strongly about. At some point, I should write this shit down. I still want to explore my idea of what feminism means to me and I want to write about acceptable forms of bigotry such as laughing at the poor.

After Mark, I went over to see Hatty Ashdown's debut show, Nanchild. Hatty is another favourite of mine. I loved her from the first time I saw her. She is, possibly, the only really good CLEAN female act on the circuit and delivered 40 minutes of fun, accessible, clean comedy. I was asked to recruit a clean female comic a few months ago and when Hatty dropped out, I was struggling to find someone else. I feel that if I can build ten minutes of clean, good material then I'd be happy. I've been cringeing at some of the afternoon gigs when I go into the dirty stuff. I feel that saying "spunk" before dark is unacceptable.

My comedy buddy Tom has now arrived in Edinburgh so I met up with him for a catch-up and we went to see Tom Binns as Ian D. Montfort. Tom Binns is a character comedian and this invention is a fake medium. He has learned how these people do it and has mixed his new "gift" with some really sharp stand-up. Tom got chosen for a reading and was spot-on. Really good stuff. It works on two levels, magic (sort of!) and comedy. I imagine that he could run this show for years as each show would be different. 

Following a burger, I went home for a Skype date and headed back out across the road to watch Alex Horne's: Horne Section. It's Alex Horne as the band leader with a fantastic five-piece band doing various songs and silly games with the audience. It's an anything-can-happen show and I laughed out loud nearly crying at one point. He pretty much blew me away. It's cabaret at its finest and Alex Horne is a wonderful Freddie Starr/Les Dawson/Eric Morcambe bumbling comic. Really very good and the best ninety minutes I've had at the festival so far.

However, the lanyard people nearly ruined it for me tonight by coming in late and taking ages to get their seats. Not only are they getting something for free that I've paid £12 for but they're making a fuss about it. The venue was in the Assembly Gardens which was full of wankers. By wankers, I mean people that dress better than me with their trilbies and George Michael designer stubble. They were sat on astroturf trying to out-wanker each other. Man, I need to work on not judging people by their trilby hats and designer stubble. I had my rape-proof jacket on the back of a chair last night and someone said to someone else, "Is that your coat?" The person looked at it, screwed up their face and said, "Ugh, no." And so confirms the rape-proofiness of it.

There's not much to report today. I've been thinking about the importance of having a theme for the show so that it can be pitched/marketed. A gang show has no theme. There's an open mic guy doing a show called "The 90s in 30 minutes". Bang. I know what it's about and it will attract an audience that are going to be interested. Well done that man.

Everywhere in Edinburgh smells the same and I managed to put my finger on it today. It smells like the inside of a hoover bag. Musty, slightly acidic and not wholly unpleasant but very much unclean. Edinburgh has also run out of toilet roll already so cue me carrying around tissue in my rained-on hand bag.

Back to gigging tomorrow, I've got two on before Maz arrives, heading off to Josie Long and then on to Gagstro. I've also got a gig where I seem to be a token woman. It's a day time gig and there may be "industry" people there. I will do a clean 5. I am worried, there are really good people on who will make me look shit. Will report back tomorrow.

Day Eleven: Why does it always rain on me?

Hi, I had a great time in Dublin, thanks for asking.


I arrived back in Edinburgh at 4.30 this afternoon just in time to get away with not flyering for Slappers but to do my spot. The cab driver on the way to Dublin airport had said, "I suppose you'll be slagging me off on the stage tonight." A lot of people say this to me, suggesting that somehow they are that interesting that they might be worth talking about. To be fair to the bloke, the journey went quite quickly as he was telling me about the professional poker tournaments that he goes on. Fascinating stuff. 


In my absence, both Gagstro and Slappers have been going well. This does nothing for my self-esteem of course. The Slappers audience looked the same as all the others I'd performed in front of except that they were warm and friendly. I did quite well there. However, my standards are low these days so historically, that would have been a shit gig.


After Slappers I went home to hang out. I read some reviews of other comedy shows online and was tutting through a lot of them. A good friend of mine received a really shit review the other day and received 1 star (out of 5). Not only is it horrible to slagged off like that but to have it there on the internet for all of your peers to see is soul-destroying. Gagstronomic is not listed in the Fringe Guide so, chances are, we won't get anyone turning up to review us. I got a good review from Chortle and I'm happy to leave that there thank you very much.


I headed out to Gagstro, optimistic following a great weekend. When I got to the venue, I saw that we were competing with Barcelona vs Real Madrid - I'm guessing one of the biggest games possible in football. The bar was busy and noisy. I think the whole Spanish population of Edinburgh were there.


That said, we had a half-full room. I opened the show as the MC and bantered with the audience. I explained about the noise and joked about the venue thinking that a black curtain would be able to block out noise. I was trying to get the audience on side, making jokes about cupping our ears so that we could hear properly. I did what I do at the Cavendish, requested a lot of love for the acts. 


There was a guy who said that he travelled for a living, I asked him if he was a traveller, that got a laugh. I felt dirty. I'm VERY anti-traveller jokes and I hate the word "pikey". I wish I'd been able to follow that up with something smart but I couldn't. Him travelling though gave an opportunity for me to rant about Ryanair, a common hatred among all folks. It wasn't particularly funny but it brought the audience together.


There was a drunk woman at the front who had, apparently, been in every single show today. She was hammered. I thought about ignoring her but it became apparent that she wasn't going to shut up. She wasn't being aggressive so I didn't want to take the piss out of her, I was just repeating to the rest of the audience what she was saying which was funny in a sort of look-at-the-crazy-drunk-lady way. 


The drunk lady didn't like our guest and I think she was being quite vocal about it (I couldn't hear her natch). She walked out and started hugging me and telling me that I was "fab" but she was "shite." I took her outside in the end because she was disturbing the night. She stayed out until pretty much the end. The good news is that she took some flyers to give to her guests staying at the B+B she runs - a personal recommendation from the land-lady who was probably in black-out. Fuck it, I'll take the publicity.


I headed over to Late Night Slappers reluctantly even though I had had a good gig there last week. It went ok. The front row were three very disinterested boys. I spoke with them a bit and took the piss out of their disinterest. My pre-cum stuff still doesn't fly as well as I think it can, I might try and re-write it. It's too much information at once.


I made £15 out of three buckets today. Not bad going, that's fags and dinner paid for.


On my walk home, I saw Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee. It was an opportunity to speak to him about Wizbit though not really the adventure I had hoped for. This is how it went:


Gem: Excuse me Paul, sorry to disturb you. Can I ask, did YOU create Wizbit?
Paul: Well, so-and-so wanted links for an existing programme and he wanted blah blah blah. So I thought that it should be an alien and he should *puts on ACTUAL Wizbit voice* sound like this. Look on wizbit.tv on the internet.
Gem: Thanks Paul, good night.


So there you have it, there was my Paul Daniels Edinburgh adventure. It was cool to hear Wizbit's voice live just for me though. Wish he'd sung the song.


Following my elation from meeting Paul Daniels, I started tweeting my news, while I was tweeting, I saw a couple of drunk blokes come towards me. Before I knew it, one of them had PISSED ON MY LEG. It didn't occur to me what had happened immediately. I realised that the guy had actually been walking down the road with his cock out, pissing and waving it from side to side which therefore, caught me. I stopped, turned round and shouted, "You absolute fucking animal. That is fucking disgusting." I wanted to cry a little bit. Being pissed on shortly after meeting Paul Daniels is not what I got sober for. I walked home saying, "yyyyyyuuuuukkkk" to myself and wanting to walk back with a brick and kill the disgusting drunk cunt. I didn't. I took my jeans off, cleaned my leg with a face wipe and cursed the whole of Scotland. Is anyone sober in this city? No stereotypes here then?


I have day off tomorrow although I have annoying booked myself in for a gig as a token women at the Leicester Square New Comedian of the Year launch. 


Also, little sister Maz is joining me for a couple of nights on Tuesday and Wednesday. We are going to go to shows and hang out. I could really do with the company and am especially pleased that she's making the effort to come up.


Apart from being urinated on by a man walking down the road holding his cock, today has been a good one. Hopefully, the MC at Gagtro will turn it around and we can go home knowing that we've achieved something.


The singing crowd across the road are singing It's Raining Men unaccompanied tonight. Oh. Good.

Day Eight: #fml

This blog is being written, once again, to the sound of what appears to be some kind of singing rally. There's a lot of whooping and singing which is far enough away for me not to be able to recognise what it is but it sounds like there's a lot of them. I am due to get up at a reasonable hour in order to fly to Dublin for my holiday within a holiday, like Inception, but not a dream. Probably more like a Russian Doll but not a freaky Romany lady that is a really rubbish toy... there might be material there. Note to self.

I had a lovely afternoon. Josephine Lacey and Chris Dangerfield invited me round for lunch. I sat with them and we had a lovely time. Their house looks like fun. I hopped on a bus to Slappers and noted that I had never seen so many white people since my Stockholm trip last year. This being Scotland, with its low job prospects, rain and general hatred for anything not Scottish probably wasn't an ideal destination for the West Indian migration of the 1950s.

Tagline: Josephine and I after our chicken curry lunch. I look like I have a 48 inch neck, like a Harry Potter monster. I haven't.

We are all pissed off with Comedy Slappers. Just to re-cap, shit location, shit time. I still can't remember agreeing to be such a big part of it. Josephine said that the idea was that Slappers Edinburgh was going to be for the over-40s on the circuit but they couldn't find enough over 40s to get involved so Hannah, Darren, Jonathan and I were roped in. In hindsight, I should have said no as soon as I was asked to make a financial contribution towards the flyers etc. But why have an uncomfortable conversation for 5 minutes when you can bitch and moan about it on a blog for six months? 

The audience today was the same as it has been every day, About 12 of them, some foreigners and no one really laughing. There were some Spanish and Polish in today. I found out that "transvestite" is pretty much the same in Spanish and Polish and joked that the tv community are universal. The Spanish and Polish laughed.

I then went off to a meeting and tried to stay awake as a Scotch man spoke for 15 minutes. He had a thick accent and I couldn't understand a word he said. It was a nice enough meeting but lit with candles which made me feel sleepy. I shared about the loneliness. There was someone who used to be famous in there. She was quite rude when she said that she couldn't understand what the guy was saying. "You're the foreigner love!" I thought.

Tagline: Location of the AA Meeting. I ain't even joking.

Tagline: So tough are the Scots, that they take an extreme view of handwash. "Carex? Do me a fucken' favour pal. You want clean hands or no'?"

MJ and I went to get cake. The shop across the road from him wanted £3.50 for a slice of cake. Fucking cheek. So we went to Sainsburys, paid £2.50 for a Victoria sponge, punched it into our faces and headed off for another caning from the Gagstronomic! audience.

Hatty Ashdown opened and the small audience went with her. On went Mark who lost his confidence and way a bit and the room was dead. Dead I tell you. I went on. Struggled once again. Got a few laughs from the one-liners. Tried to banter - nothing. Referred to the fact that I was dying - nothing. Fucking soul destroying. Introduced Hannah, she got a little bit out of them but it was horrid. Five people walked out. One girl looked back to say sorry. This gig is a disaster. A comic was in tonight and he suggested that we should have an MC, so that if one of us dies, they can try a level it out. Historically, people have done ok there apparently. The comic said that he thought our stuff was good, it's just that the room wasn't for laughing and he'd be right.

Tagline: Hannah flogging a dead horse for the fifth time. "Move closer, this is going to be like a shit Jackanory." 

Tomorrow, we're going to try Hannah MCing. Mark needs to go on later if he's going to get angry and start shouting at the audience but because he's committed to another gig that starts just as ours is finishing, he has to go on early. I think we need a generic thing to say at the beginning about the space and the noise, so that the audience recognises that it's shit and come with us. I'll think about that over the weekend.

Feeling ready to quit stand-up altogether, I trundled along to Late Night Slappers in the downstairs of an Italian Restaurant. It's a good venue because it's AWAY FROM THE RESTAURANT and THE AUDIENCE ARE IN THE DARK and THE COMICS ARE IN THE LIGHT. These simple things make it a world away from Gagstro. We had Scott Capurro headlining tonight - for free, so we managed to get a load of people in. I went on third before Scott and *fanfare* had a great gig. People laughed loudly, people clapped and cheered. Sanity restored temporarily. I felt great, my timing was there, I was in sync with the audience. Ah! This feels better.

Scott Capurro's people were laughing. I am a friend of a friend of Dorothy after all. Scott also said on his way out, "that was great, Gemma." There you go people of Globe Bar, Scott Capurro said I were great so fuck you. Laugh! Fucking laugh!

Scott came on to a straight guy in the front row which he usually does. But he ended up taking his trousers down and stood just in his pants describing what he was going to do with this poor guy. (See below).

I skipped home listening to Kylie and felt funny again. I've not tried to think about stupid Gagstro and its shitty venue. If the three of us can turn that around, that would be incredible. I think the key is to have a funny admin bit at the beginning.

I am away in Dublin spending some much needed time with Jon until Sunday so will not be posting on Friday or Saturday.

Day Seven: Ha ha this-a-way, my oh my.

So dedicated am I to this blog that I waited until 2am to post as the blogspot website was down. I've been watching clips of Michael Barrymore's My Kind Of People. I found a video of Susan Boyle in her younger days wearing a fetching salmon pink jacket. Barrymore kissed her at the end. Never been kissed, my arse. Never been kissed by a man who's never invited straight men to their house, drugged them and then found them floating in their pool like a peppermint tea bag. More like.


Finished my day-job work this afternoon blah blah. I am now off-duty. Amen.


I left the house to see Nick Doody this afternoon on the Free Fringe. For free, it was bloody good. He was talking about the extra bank holiday and a woman in the audience said that her boss wouldn't give her the day off. She was an archeologist. "Couldn't it wait?" he replied. Very quick. The room was pretty much full and that was without being listed in the Fringe guide and without flyering. People were there by word of mouth or through Twitter. They were a lovely audience as well. I was jealous of the warmth he received.


The rain started again, so it's back on with the rape-proof. I met up with Toby and Sandra for a Chinese. It was an all you can eat buffet. I didn't indulge too much but treated myself to afters. I was a little thrown by the fruit salad being next to the actual salad. I guess it was a salad section but I was put off by lettuce being in the same section as pineapple. I also saw a man with three chicken wings on a plate in one hand and some chocolate ice cream in the other. That's either specific dietary requirements or it's bulimia.


I managed to laugh hard again today when Toby was recalling the story of his mum farting really loudly as she got into the cab last night. Sandra is liable to wetting herself when she laughs. We nearly lost her on Cockburn Street. Good time had by all.


There was no point flyering for Gagstro (yesssssss!) as the streets were empty due to the heavy rain. The bar itself was busy as Scotland were playing Denmark. I announced the stand-up as "Award winning comedy starting in fifteen minutes". I have been in a couple of shitty finals and Mark Stephenson, our guest today has been the runner-up in two big comps in the last 12 months. 


I'm happy to say that tonight was better than last night but the background noise coming from the bar was fucking ridiculous. So distracting. Unless you are in the front two rows, you can't hear fuck all. I'm not particularly loud on the mic so it's frustrating when I look out and see people at the back talking probably because they can't hear. Another problem with the venue is the lighting. I shouldn't be able to see my audience but I can. Fucking stupid.


My material went down ok, I got a bit of support when I started slagging off Harry Potter with a kid in the front row. But disaster struck. When no one laughed at a punch-line that ends "Paul Daniel's Wizbit", I asked if there was anyone in the room that remembered it. Silence. I got a few laughs by saying, "Did I imagine a big yellow dancing cone with stripy legs?" No one knew! I've thought since, that I may see if I can get a chat with Paul Daniels as he's doing a show here and ask him about it, I may be able to get a bit more material out of it. 


The Skype joke needs work but I think it's a goody. Haven't tried my Einstein/Palestine (hmmm... having written Einstein and Palestine down for the first time, is there a pun there with the endings of those two names?) since the other day when it got nothing.

Tagline: Unrecognisable whilst smiling. The glasses are doing well to cover up the eyes. I nearly made my face bleed last night by rubbing the mascara from my eyes until I realised it wan't mascara, it was the dark circles underneath. Also sporting a Hitler fringe-thing.


After Gagstro, I went down to another gig to do a spot. The room was dead and it looked like I'd been drafted in as the token vagina-owner. I thought that I might try an entirely clean five minutes but they didn't seem too bothered. Instead, I bantered with two girls who had the giggles. One was wearing a halter-neck top thing. She didn't have a coat with her. Mad girl. She needs a rape-proof. Weirdly though, even though I did a few shitty jokes. Three separate people came up to me and said that they liked my stuff. I gave them a flyer and wished them well.


I'm yet to get a decent laugh yet. I've been playing to really quiet rooms. Listeners, not laughers. It's getting a bit soul destroying now. This must be what it's like to be *insert name of comic who I shouldn't list in case they google themselves and find me slagging them off*. I'm not quite at the stage where I'm questioning the last two years of my life like: "Shit. Was I ever funny? Am I one of those crazy ones who thinks they get laughs?" 


I thought of a riot gag that needs shortening:
I watched the looting of a Currys. Bloody sales reps were running down the road forcing the looters to sign up for the extended warranties.


Meh. It's alright. Relies on people actually still buying stuff from Currys. Dixons has closed now I think.


On my way home, I bought a crepe from a caravan. I wonder where you can buy those plates they use. Maybe I could just use my entire hob. It's not used for anything else after all.


When I got in, I flicked the kettle on and then my flat mate ran past me holding her mouth and then threw up right in front of me. She was devastated. I asked her if she was ill and she managed to say through her sicky hair that she may have had too much wine. "Oh well. As long as you're not contagious, I don't mind." There's a stomach bug going round and I don't want it. She asked me how to clean sick off a carpet. Ah, innocent youth. Having thrown up in most places including my own handbag and onto a railway track, I said that a cloth with some kitchen spray would do it. She kept apologising but I imagine she was more embarrassed than anything. She kept saying, "I don't want to be that kind of flat mate." I told her that vomiting is an impulse; pulling down your knickers, crouching and then pissing on the doorstep is not.


Tomorrow, I'm going to start arranging lunch and coffee with my comedy compadres. Work is out of the way. I am free at last. Free to speak to Paul Daniel's about his Wizbit.

Tagline: So popular was the Pink Floyd guitarist's anus, they named a road after it.

 Tagline: So popular was the anus of Wide Awake Club's Tommy, they named a road after it. This road leads to Strachan's Growler.

Day Six: Happiness? Is that you my old friend?

I was starting to think that I'd made a terrible mistake coming up here and, although, I am still open to the idea, I managed to have a good time today.


I slept with LBC playing on my laptop. I awoke to Nick Ferrari inviting listeners to call in just so he can tell them that they're wrong. They were discussing cancelling the Notting Hill Carnival in light of the riots and you could hear the glee in Nick's voice as he thought that he had finally got his way. Nick hates black people and poor people.


I had to leave the house quite early today (1.15pm) to do a gig. It was with crazy Geordie, Richard Todd again. I love gigging with him. He's now introduced a visual element to one of his routines (see below) as he doesn't trust the audience to have as vivid imagination as he has. I had an ok time. I was introduced as one of the best comics on the open mic circuit which annoyed me a bit as it's a lot to live up to (even in the shitty world of open mic comedy). I referred to it a little and didn't get any laughs. There was a 14-year old kid in the front row and I bantered (fast-talking South London style) with him a bit. JK Rowling routine seemed to go down very well. I've only brought that back out of necessity really but as the last film's out, I guess it's kinda topical again. I'm proud of that routine, it's smug and it's the oldest material I have in my set.

Tagline: Richard Todd demonstrating the "son" move on Dave Chawner.


I still have some day-job work to do while I'm here. I didn't realise how annoying it is playing with spreadsheets on a lap-top (this paragraph is going to be thrilling, I can feel it). I am accustomed to a number pad on my keyboard. I am a demon with a number pad, go on test me. So I'm having to use the top number keys like someone who's not used to using computers. If I ever kill myself, it will be a number pad not working that will push me over the edge. Not the big things.


I headed up to Comedy Slappers and flyered for a bit. I am rubbish at flyering. Mark's much more forceful than me, he gives people paper cuts from thrusting them into their hands whereas I'm a bit more "Jawantstanup? No? 'K" It's fucking soul destroying. "What's it about?" someone asked me today. Good question. I said it was about stuff and that. I don't think he came. The gig was small, quiet and I didn't really get any laughs. The mic wasn't working either so I had a hand free which I hate.


I booked tickets to see Kerry Godliman. I saw Kerry for the first time back in 2005 and I related to her and loved her so much, it put the idea of being a stand-up in my head. I met her not long ago and told her so, she was very sweet and thanked me and told me not to give up "we need more girls" she said. Today, she was great but I think that her "club set 20 minutes" is the best she had. Mark really enjoyed her, I knew he would.


Toby and Sandra Merritt arrived today. I was so pleased to see them. Especially Tobes. The three of us had dinner at an Italian and I managed a belly laugh for the first time since I got here when I said that I was going to have a crepe. "I'd rather you didn't do it at the table." Sandra retorted. Megalolz.


I brought Toby and Sandra along to Gagstronomic! We had a full house. A house full of dead people it seems. Francis, our guest DIED. Hannah went on and DIED. Mark went on, DIED and shouted at the audience calling them fuckers. I went on, I'd decided during Hannah's set that it would be pointless to do any routines. I was pretty sure that the audience weren't going to roll over for me so I didn't want to risk doubting my material. I compared the experience to a Saudi beheading, a few chuckles. I spoke to the audience a bit. Did some one-liners and ended on my four-year old niece's joke introducing as follows:


"This is my four-year old nieces joke. If you don't laugh then you hate kids.
Why did the banana go to the doctors?
Because he wasn't peeling very well."


The biggest (only) laugh of the evening! Eva can have that laugh though I reckon she nicked that joke off someone else.


Dying is part of stand-up. Tonight, I would have preferred hecklers, at least it's something - like being punched by your husband, it's some sort of affection. It doesn't hurt so much when everyone on the bill dies, you can blame the audience that way. It's when others have done well that it feels REALLY bad. Francis took is quite badly. I asked him what he thought a proper experienced comic would have done in that room and neither of us could answer. The thing is, proper experienced comics don't have to flyer to get a disinterested audience, it's a catch 22.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Tagline: Sandra taking advantage of the silence in the room by having a sleep.


So three gigs that got progressively worse. I've got three tomorrow. I've got a feeling it will go the other way.


It's going to start raining again tomorrow for five days. It was nice while it lasted.


Another thing I want to try while I'm here is Darren Walsh's and my idea to make a jacket completed out of shrunk crisp packets. I will wear the jacket and do as many crisp puns as humanly possible. Please send shrunk crisp packets or crisp puns to: 20a Buccleuch Place, Edinburgh.


I saw a girl today who I either fear or pity. She is tall, well built and wears a bowler hat. She looks like a kinda Clockwork Orange/fat Liza Minelli's Cabaret. There is someone who is either an absolute fucking dickhead or really cool. Actually, I've just remembered that I overheard her introducing herself as "Elf". I would have liked my dad to have been there. "That's a stupid piggin' name." And he would be right. Especially given that she is not elf-like, if she wanted to be magical, she should have called herself "Centaur" She had the legs for it. 

Day Five: I leave you guys for five days...

This is a blog about Edinburgh so I'm not going to bang on about the London riots. All of you are there, I am far away, so you know best. All I will say is that I was worried when there was news on the Twitter that Mitcham had been "hit". I called Mum about five times and there was no answer. I still haven't heard from her. Mum, if you're reading this, please get in touch, it's ok, I'm not angry with you, I just want to know that you're ok.


I'm watching it unfold overnight on Twitter and LBC. There are some marvellous people phoning-in. One man from South Mimms suggested that just one troop of paratroopers would sort all this out. If only London was run by LBC listeners.


Enough of that.


It was my day off today. It's stopped raining! It's stopped! I was determined to take advantage of being able to walk around sans umbrella. However, I had to work so I didn't leave until much later than I had hoped. Today was a day of intentions going wrong. I was going to see Nick Helm who stormed the festival last year, but that didn't work out and then I was going to see Nick Doody but walked down Slappers to help flyer... Mark has put the guilt on us all about not giving up on Slappers. I ended up filling a spot anyway and missed Nick Doody. I had thought about something funny while I was watching and tried it out... it got big laughs. A keeper!


On my way to another show, I bumped into someone who asked me to MC their gig later on which I did. This was a strange gig. Everyone who was not my sort of comic, it was all a bit in-jokey and I didn't enjoy it very much.


I then went to see one of my favourite comics on the new act circuit, Tim Shishodia. I am sorry and surprised to say that he died on his arse. Watching it was pretty painful. The audience were very young and, I suppose that, they didn't get him. I wanted to shout, he's better than this! You just don't get him!


I then sloped about for a bit and hung out gossiping with some pals before I then had a ten spot at a late night gig which was pretty quiet and wasn't received particularly well.


When I got home, my flat mate was outside the flat and beckoned me to be quiet. There was a homeless guy and his dog who had set up camp for the night outside our front door. I'm sorry to say that this isn't the first time this has happened to me. My flat mate had already asked him to move on and he was just very slowly getting his stuff together. He wanted a fiver and then he wanted some fags. I have him about 13 fags and he then asked for a fiver. "Do me a favour mate," I said, "that many fags is worth more than a fiver." He had a staffordshire bull terrier with him. The dog was lovely, very well behaved. It made me think about Jon's dog, Vera. Maybe he could pay a homeless person to train her.


All-in-all, I'm pretty low again. I keep waiting for it to get good. Perhaps getting my work done and dusted will help, that way I can kick back a bit. After all, this is my holiday too.


My final message is this:


in the style of Chris Crocker
LEAVE MITCHAM ALONE! PLEASE! SHE'S BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH!


I appreciate that I tweeted that a few hours ago but I thought it was funny.