oh... you again?

Hello! I'd forgotten about you... you're my blog aren't you? I'm very sorry for the neglect, here have a lovely new paint job.

Now that I've appeased the inanimate and uncaring webspace, I suppose I can get on with my blog. 'What have you been doing?' I hear you cry. 'Where have you been?' you similarly intone. Well boys and girls, I found a job. Two jobs, actually. I told you I was a sucker for punishment.

The first is a bit dull, but not in an 'oh god another day at a call centre' sort of way. Expect more of an 'Oh really? What does that mean?' response. I became a cobbler.

Oh really? What does that mean?

Well basically, they repair shoes, often cut keys, my particular company also engraves things, mends watches and replaces batteries and would, on occasion take passport photographs. They basically do all the shit that you occasionally NEED. Which is a good idea I suppose, and they are managing to expand in a recession so...

This is not the good job though, this is a job for money, to pay rent. The second is the good job. I mentioned in my last post how I love to write, well I've found a way to do that. I'm a comedian.

What... you? Really?

Yes, me, really. I have found a job that I love, and I must love it, because I will tell you now that there is a hell of a lot of work to do before there will ever be any money in it. I gig, often. And when I'm not doing that i'm at gigs. Watching, talking, networking. This is how it's done. You need to meet people.

But wait... I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you how it started.

Months ago, before I'd even started this blog, I'd gone out for a few beers. On that night I stumbled across a little comedy club in a bar called Moloko. There were a few great acts, including a Mr Simon Emanuel and a Mr Phillip Cooper. Who I would meet and enjoy conversations with months later. But there was one act that had really stuck out in my mind. Because I knew him. Ignacio Lopez. He was a friend of mine. I'd gone to school with him, but had hardly seen him at all since.

Before he went up, he asked if it was okay that he could use an anecdote that I'd told him for a joke. Okay? Yeah. Sure. His set was great. I laughed, a lot. The story of mine he'd used didn't do that well... but he'd used it. A funny person, a guy that does comedy, thought that something I'd said was funny. That planted a seed.

I started going to comedy clubs, one in particular - The Itchy Beaver in Swansea - I really enjoyed. I'd seen a brilliant comedian there - Mr Paul Foot. He'd recently stolen the show on Never Mind the Buzzcocks and then came to Swansea, did a set entirely about shire horses, with seemingly no punchlines and almost made me die of laughter. Some guy, who I'd admittedly not heard of a month previously, had come to my city, talked about something I had no idea about and made everyone laugh. That had to be such a high? The seed was sprouting.

A little while later, I met a man on a bus. It was Ignacio. I told him about my love of comedy and that I'd been thinking about going up and doing it. He told me to... in fact he invited me to. It turns out that he and the previously mentioned Mr Simon Emanuel ran the Itchy Beaver comedy club. He asked if I'd like to be on the next one. Yes! When is it? 'Two days'... errrr... 'How about the one after that? Two weeks time. Yes, yes, that sounds better. I'll do that one.

Two weeks is not a long time. It is especially not a long time when you procrastinate for one of them. I got scared, I started to write. The first drafts were... awful. In fairness. Full of Maddy jokes, Fritzl jokes, rape and paedophilia. Jokes taken from sickipedia. essentially. Had I done the first gig I'd been offered, this is the set I would have done. But I didn't, so I didn't. I didn't like it. It wasn't me. But what if I'm not funny?

I started to research, I watched countless dvds but there were two comedians that stuck in my mind. Eddie Izzard, of course. He seems to be so much in his own world, he doesn't seem in control for basically the entire performance (all of them), but most importantly, I don't think he cared. I learned from this that you can only write what you, yourself, think is funny.

The second comedian to make an impact was Simon Amstell. I watched his dvd two days before I was meant to perform and afterwards, I wrote an entire set. He was funny, he appeared honest, but most importantly he was himself. I believe. So I wrote, I wrote about things that had happened to me, thoughts I had had about things, conversations I had had with people.

I will say now, that had I gone and done the first set I'd written, the shock humour, controversial stuff, I'd have gotten more laughs. I know this, because the other 'comedy virgin' that performed that night did just that. He still does that. Which is where I am thankful. Had I done it that way, I might still be doing it that way. Telling other people's jokes.

My first gig was not awful, people listened, which was not the precedent for the evening I will tell you. I felt OK on the stage, I got a few titters, a few giggles and one Laugh. A proper Laugh. From lots of people. It's the only joke I still tell from that gig. And it's a good one. It's the reason I had a second gig, and a third... and so on.

I'm a comedian now, it hasn't been long, but it's something I feel, something that I know I'm good at. So, I've become one of those boring people that only wants to talk about what they do. And I realise now that some people actually like their jobs. Who knew?

I gig a lot these days. I go to clubs, I talk, I network. I get gigs. I love it. There's only one ambition I have now. To have one job.

Comedy.