The guy.

I sit here writing this, after having just supported a proper headliner on a proper night. Three comedians on the bill, I was one of them. For those of you who aren't sure, that's a big deal.

Most nights that you do when starting out are amateur nights, open mics and such. These nights are usually run by inexperienced promoters or comics trying to make a name for themselves or just hone their act. There is no pressure on these nights, with the exception of the pressure that any normal human being should feel before going up in front of a crowd of people declaring that he's 'funny.'

The bills are shared equally, usually between 6 or more comedians, you don't get 'openers,' you don't get 'headliners,' you get the guy that goes first and the guy that goes last. These nights are great for starting out, it takes no time at all and a relatively small number of gigs to get to know most of the guys you're coming up with. Some become friends, some become competition, mostly though they're both.

I did 6 consecutive gigs for the same promoter. He was small time, but liked to think he was more, and he ran a couple of nights around Swansea and Cardiff. He would compere the nights himself, and usually berate the comedians before they hit the stage. Mostly I think he used the night to promote his musician friends. oh well.

The problem with these gigs is that they don't matter, it's rare that anyone of importance will be there to see you, whether you slay the room or die on your arse. So that's when you have to motivate yourself, create your own pressure, mix it up. Challenge yourself. At these gigs I would do 5-10 minutes of new material, every time. Force myself to write. Some of it worked... some of it didn't. But after 3 months I've got 35 minutes of material I'm happy with, that works every time. And I've just done my first pro night (well, the first one where my name was on the poster), so i suppose i should go and find that guy and thank him.

I was pleased with how it went tonight, at the giggles comedy club in Swansea. Coming on after the genuinely brilliant Mr Simon Emanuel, who'd done 20 minutes of new material and absolutely nailed it. I held my own, but more importantly, I felt it. I started a bit slower than I normally do, and i could feel the room not responding, so I ramped it up and really got them going. It was one of those nights where you realise how much you've learned without even knowing, a night where you feel good at your job.

Then Mr Noel James, the headliner, took to the stage (who by sheer coincidence I share a hometown with) and I realised just how far I have to go. The confidence on the stage, the absolute faith in the material - because he knows just how good it is - and consistent roars of laughter.

He blew me away, he really did. and he was so genuinely nice afterwards. One day that's where i hope to be. I don't care if I'm on the telly. I don't care if I'm not famous. If I can do this for a living, if i can get to the stage where i am THE guy on the poster, rather than a guy on the poster. I'll be happy.

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.