My Big Scary 10
I was nervous in the days approaching my first ever 10-minute set.
I collaged an extended set but was wary of ‘filling’ – just padding out my 5 with bits that had previously been cut because they did not get laughs. I got it to 10 minutes but it didn’t spark joy. I was insecure. This stemmed from problems in the material – that it was not really performance-ready.
At Gig #21, Kasia had been shocked by the gross-puerility from some of the comedians on the bill; she expressed that it probably wasn’t good for me playing these kinds of nights. My Big Scary 10 booking, had come off the back of a performance where I’d done all the things I’d cut from the set – the most silly, performance art bits, such as a blessing of the stage.
Open mics funnel you towards a joke-joke-joke trad direction. This is something A. I’m not sure I’m good at and B. really enjoy. “Maybe that’s because you can’t write jokes!” is a legitimate retort to this.
At an open-mic crowd, your defences go up, you’re playing to a crowd that don’t give a shit about you – but at My Big Scary 10, I would surely be in front of a discerning audience?
Second guessing, second guessing.
Because of inexperience. Not only had I not done the set before, I didn’t know the venue or the promoter – the flavour of his nights…
I researched the other (way more experienced) comedians on the bill. So forthright, weird, the antithesis of most of the comedians I’d been seen on the open-mic circuit. I had to be brave!
I am blessed to have a job where I have time to think, scribble down words, learn lines. This allows me to give material a good kneading before a performance. Those comedians I frown upon who read material probably don’t have the luxury of day jobs where managers turn a blind eye to staff pacing around audibly talking to themselves.
I cut the line “Two things you never insult: a man’s hat, a man’s podcast” even though it had always got a big laugh. It was a laugh for other comedians (who all have podcasts) but wasn’t really true of my character. It was inauthentic. I was in no place to be cutting jokes but what can I tell you? Maybe I am prone to self-sabotage. But I decided to have more confidence in my writing and more confidence in the audience – that these would not be people thirsty for semen jokes.
Rehearsing a 10-minute set, I discovered a completely different flow. Room to breathe! I’d been trapped in 5s that had grown more and more frantic. I’d start with a song and build from there. Such pacing would be too hurried and hectic in a 10.
Gradually My Big Scary 10 fell into a place that made me happy, dare I say, excited. That was when I was inspired to revive roaches!
On a bus in Anerley. A single decker. Single deckers are always most prone to bedlam. A gang of schoolgirls got on, chatting away. When one got off, she departed with the line “In a minute.” What a great piece of lingo – my thoughts went instantly to “In a minute, roaches!” This would be adding another layer of obscurity to an already proven flop. I knew that. But I can’t be stopped. (It also showed how valuable it is to take the bus. Writers and directors and actors who aren’t on the bus aren’t going to experience anything they can apply to their art. They will therefore create only rarefied irrelevancies.)
So I felt good. I was nervous still. Terrified, more like. But I had the inner glow that comes from a confidence that, whatever happens, I wasn’t pretending to be something I’m not.
In a minute, roaches!