How to: Unsettle an Audience
Here's a clip from my recent stab at being an MC at the Crying Duck, Kings Cross. I was stepping into the shoes of the regular MC who was complaining about his neuralgia and his ligaments and his weak valves. There's always something with this guy and you're never two moves away from a cheap grift.
To get the audience salivating I got them to clap in ever increasing increments by imagining the following:
- It was Christmas
- You've been given a Micro-Pig as a present
- The Micro-Pig has learnt to talk
- It's first words are "I love you" (aw, bless)
It was deafening. Then I got to thinking about the rise and inevitable fall of a talking Micro-Pig...
The Day of the Grand Moth (Jan 25th)
Like some of you, I'm currently prepping for the annual Day of the Grand Moth, this coming Saturday, 25th January. There's a great feeling of anticipation dusting off the burgundy robes, polishing the brass on the ceremonial lantern and drawing my favourite characters from the dance (pic left). Every year, members of the order go through these same rituals for this increasingly overlooked celebration.
When I was younger, I used to hate being raised religious but looking back it's given me the values and inner strength to survive in a world where there's us, middle management, maybe an MD or two and the CEO and above them all a skulk of exquisite foxes who have all the best games because they hold little regard for Moore's law.
How does your family celebrate The Day of the Grand Moth? Tap me out an email if you're planning anything extra special!
Defining My Comedy
Since I've set this website up, I've been getting a cock-load of queries from all over the world (and beyond?) Some of them are people saying I can unlock a Nigerian Princess for a small administrative fee. Others advise me that I can make a ton of dollars cutting pieces of me out so they can be transplanted into a fading Swiss politician. I also heard from a guy who was about to have several thousand volts ran through them by the state of Oregon for "throwing shade" in the general direction of the Senator's daughter and was looking for a correspondent to write erotica for him.
There are also some people who're keen to know a bit more about my second life as a Stand Up comedian, trawling the back rooms and basements of London. I've struggled to nail a definition down, so I decided to work up a list of subjects that I won't joke about in order to help you better understand the colour of the shit I'm peddling.
What I won't do
- Jokes about being Northern. If you've ever seen me on stage then you'll know I carry around a thick accent that means I have to wear several jumpers with my jokes stitched into them so they can act as a real-life subtitles. It's not that I don't think there isn't a treasure trove of material either; my home town of Bradford has reality TV star George Galloway in charge, who sailed into power with a cigar smoking, Indesign competent election campaign. Once rich with textile money, Bradford is now dilapidated and all the grand old buildings are being allowed to slowly dissolve in on themselves. But, you know, my mum lives there.
- Racial commentary. My only real observation is that black people, on average, seem much more impressed by street magic than white people. When shown that their phone has been placed inside a glass bottle, there's lots of running around on the street and yelling. White people just seem to want their phone back with a look that says an allotted delivery window has been missed by Homebase and now you've got a ton of slate just sitting on your grass verge unattended.
- Pauline Quirk. Need to give this particular subject a bit of a rest. You know how it is; you're young, you set up a fake Twitter account and after a bottle of red wine you end up having a small room in Scotland Yard, full of people working to track you down.
If you wanted me to define my act I'd say that, much like some of the side streets in Amsterdam...I'm niche. And in terms of the physical symptoms you'd expect to encounter when seeing a comedy show, you'd be likely to suffer from streaming eyes and an aching jaw from laughing so much but the best you're going to get from me is a strange secretion from a gland you never knew you had. And I don't know what this stuff is but moths love it.
Yes. I guess it is lots of stuff about moths.
3 guys, 9 bottles of beer and 1 big idea
This week I had the first of many meetings with Ben and Matt (who rolled up to my birthday party to cries of "who is this grisly old sailor") to talk about our next super top secret comedy project.
We're not ready to tell anyone all the nitty gritty as right now it's got pyrotechnics that'll singe those eyebrows you use to raise at gay marriage within the panelled walls of your private members club, it's even got Emeli Sande singing us into the interval. Right now it's a lot of things and the next job is to start developing, refining and slashing at all the ideas we've had to get to something that's going to thrill and arouse the audiences but is also something that can exist in reality. *scrunches up post-it note with 'Robot?' written on it*.
If you're not already going door to door to spread the word on Crying Duck Comedy, they're a group of good Christian boys who're throwing together some of the most interesting alternative comedy events in London. Read more about them here.
2014 is under way and, having sobered up, I'm left with the realisation that I'm a stone overweight. We're just here to live our lives, right?
'Edutainment' with Hen Von S (Deceased)
This evening I had the pleasure of doing a spot for the famous philanthropist and Bitcoin hoarder, Henry Von Stifle at his new night of Intellectual Cabaret in Stoke Newington*. You've got the Yew Tree survivor himself, his kindly butler Spiff (who looked a lot like some plump kid I know, who's been spoilt rotten) and a host of acts that are going to make your mind, heart and tip sting. He runs them at regular intervals and hikes up the ticket price each time but you can't blame him, that porpoise ain't going to keep itself moist.
Here's a link to the Facebook page, if one day you click through and it reads 'unavailable' then you know that the full force of the state's hobnail has come down on the throats of these boys. The slugs that run this economy are unlikely to let something so pure continue to grow, lest it blossom and people just stop going into work and start fiddling each other off all day.
He even paid me for the privilege...
*Where is Stoke Newington? Well, travel all night long following the North Star and a little bit into the new dawn and you're still nowhere near.
Where Are They Now?
Catching up with another iconic movie creature. It's Chewbacca, stop squinting.
Where Are They Now?
Here's the first in a collection of illustrations about movie monsters I've been scratching out. Kurt Russell is a boss in this film with a very frosty beard.
Commission: Balloon Design
The Brief
"We need your help!" cried the manager of a London-based Italian restaurant. I've known the client for a few years; he's a 125ml measure of a man who struts around the place with a practiced confidence of someone who's been living with a built up shoe. But you can't afford to turn work, not in this recession.
I came up with 3 alternative routes for them but would only tell them the first word until he produced the envelope.
- 'Last Wish Foundation' - once receiving the balloon the child will get extra special treatment for the day and probably a free trolley dash around Hamleys.
- 'Attach 3 of me to your house and it will be like Up' - Note, the fat Boy Scout is not included.
- 'Extinguish Your Cigarette Here' - admittedly, a left-field approach. Mainly put this in to as a technique to drive him into the other routes.
The Result
Right now, as I type this I'm tucking into garlic bread and meatballs and for the rest of my life I'll never pay for them again. If a meteor hits London and destroys it but I survive then I don't know where we'd be then but guessing my priorities would change radically in that situation. Horse riding would probably top that list.
What the Client Said
"Here's your money and there is the door"
Say Hello To Strange Peter!
Here's an illustration I did based on what some guy shouted at me in a board meeting.
Where Does Yakult Come From?
Part of the ‘Modern Day Uses for Mythical Creatures’ series. Commissioned by some lonely, Swiss billionaire.