The ‘comedy night’ I went to was a joke (pardon the pun). I really felt for the compere and comedian(s), as the venue is not conducive to any act which requires the attention of the audience – it is one huge bar, with various sections of seating. The ‘stage’ was located at one end of the venue…on the route to both the exit and the toilets (both of which were used frequently, and required people to walk right in front of the act, and also to step over his mic lead). Oh, and the venue even left the TVs on, which were showing Sky News (large screens showing stories about the critically ill Pavarotti, classmates applauding in memory of the child that was shot in Liverpool, and the possibility of a breakthrough in the case of Madeline McCann) – surely a distraction for both compere and patrons?
As soon as any performer describes the night as ‘career suicide’, you begin to feel uncomfortable. When it happens within the first five minutes, you want to hide your head in your hands and cringe on their behalf. He was also hampered by one female heckler, who appeared to believe she was more entertaining than the entertainment. The comedian dealt with her brilliantly and made her a laughing stock, but this only encouraged her further, and it became a two-way conversation between her and the comedian. It was unfortunate that things deteriorated so quickly, as both the acts (I think there were three but one refused to perform) were funny. Consequently, the ‘comedy night’ ended less than half an hour after it had begun. Shame, as I looked up the comedian (I’ll spare his blushes by not mentioning his name) and he had rave reviews.
I absolutely adore comedy in every way, shape or form (except that which is deliberately offensive in order to provoke a response). It provides light relief from our everyday lives, and I’ve often said that if I hadn’t been able to laugh at myself or the situations that I’ve found myself in, I’d have probably gone insane! Remember, laughter is the best form of medicine…