Bouncing right back into positive mode now and hopefully the Edinburgh blues are banished, along with the fatigue that brought them on. It was Black Wednesday where due to the midweek nature and the end of ticket offers audience numbers usually dip, but although I did not sell out tonight I got about 270 people in (about 100 more than saw the show on the same night last year), which is more than I could have hoped for except in my wildest dreams (in which I sold out every night and they had to knock down walls to make the venue bigger to accommodate the infinity people a night who wanted to see me). In my reasonable dreams and indeed in my awake expectations I hoped to get at least 185 in every day (as I did last year), so with five full or near sell outs and the other two shows well over two thirds full this has been a blistering start. And I am not performing my pared down show at the right pace and with the correct energy (though it might have stretched out to 65 minutes tonight).
It's hard to fit a show into an hour these days, having had the luxury of touring, but I am already looking forward to the extended version which will be starting in December. Taking on board the positive and negative from my reviews thus far, I think it would be a good idea to include a bit more personal insight and experience into the story, which is necessarily curtailed by the limitations of the time slot. My last couple of shows have certainly had more emotional resonance because of this, but it is enjoyable for me doing a show that is in some ways lighter and more joke filled. Yet another 30 minutes of personal reflection and revelation might make it even better. Edinburgh is a starting point for all my shows and they all get more elaborate and involved and (I hope) better after 100 performances. But no one reviews the end of a comedy tour (unless I suppose they review the DVD). Christ on a Bike remains in my top 3 of my shows and now unflustered by going up half an hour late and not panicking about getting off stage in time for Gutted and its massive set and cast, things are really hitting their stride. And maybe less people unfamiliar with my work are taking a punt on a cheap ticket. Tonight they were sharp and with me all the way and I enjoyed reducing at least a few of them to tears of laughter with my indignation at the audacity of the gospel writer Matthew.
But enough of Christ on a Bike, because today also saw the first performance of 10 of
the Collings and Herrin podcast.
And even more importantly before that I accompanied Tiny Andrew Collings to Bannerman's public house to watch him perform his arrogant meisterwork "Secret Dancing".
I was a bit laden down with bags, but Collings set off for the venue at such a lick that it was almost impossible to keep up with the black clad bean-faced ninja. He has a focus and determination which is apparent once you see him on stage. The man has no fear, or self-awareness or awareness of anything. He is the Tommy of stand up. He shouldn't be able to do it, but somehow he overcomes his disabilities and the magic happens.
Although today it nearly didn't. He got up on stage to set up himself, which I was impressed with. Everything turned on fine, but then the amp went. Now I am not saying that it was Collings' fault and that he clearly did something wrong and broke it, but it was working OK when we arrived and after he had fiddled with it a bit it stopped working. When tattooed man after tattooed man came in to look at it and find screw drivers to change the fuse and hope that that would resolve it, he cunningly managed to avoid taking any responsibility or even the suggestion that he might have been at fault.
He manfully did the show without a microphone (not hard as the room only held about 2 people and was literally one foot long) or music, which meant he couldn't do the titular secret dancing. The secret dancing remained a secret. That's how secret it was. My favourite bit was where Collings accidentally fell off the tiny stage and then tried to pretend he had done it deliberately. He should do that every day.
It is incredible and arrogant for this strange man to attempt an hour of stand up, having never done any graft or gigs and yet with his cold, steely confidence, if not arrogance, if not being a sociopath he somehow pulls it off. Although there is no need for the flimsy A to B hook which wastes some time and doesn't unite the show at all (he should drop that and keep in the bird stuff that he did in the end to cover for the abscence of secret dancing) it's a remarkably entertaining hour. I think there is a whole show in his ill-advised move to Reigate and in a way this show is perhaps a taster of what the 21st Century Lenny Bruce is capable of. It is terrifying to think of what this strange man, who but for his age would fulfill all the profiles of the serial killer might be capable of.
It was funny though. Even though I will never tell him or anyone else that. He must be stopped. And obviously needs me to do the funnies. I'd love to see him do an hour on his own.
Lots of fun getting the podcast back in front of an audience again. I was spiky and rude to them all and to the country that is kindly hosting our endeavours. Everyone took it in the spirit it was intended and we only over stepped the line a dozen or so times. But that's what we're there for. I really enjoyed it. Hope you do too.
And many thanks to the people at City Cafe, where Andrew and I had our lunch (although the fat in the fish and chips made me feel queasy after a month of healthy living and prompted me to do a fart so pungent in the tiny dressing room that it was at the intersection between gas and solid - the spectre of Richard Herring hovered over Andrew as according to Fest it does in his show), but I somehow left my bank card there, which someone very kindly delivered to the Assembly Rooms where it was waiting for me tonight. I hadn't even spotted it was missing. Please go and eat at the City Cafe if you are in Edinburgh (and have already eaten at the Tempting Tattie). They are good, good people.
