…not a Phoenix but a giant turd. I bombed badly, and I mean really badly. One hour of absolute agony with barely any laughter, lots of staring faces, a full to capacity audience, but by the end just four people remained (inc two work colleagues who bravely sat through it, you guys are stars).

I’ve never felt so alone on stage and never realised how hollow the sound of chairs scraping across the floor in mass numbers sounds when you’re baring everything. I felt ashamed by every line and even the sketches and gags I love (my own personal comedy gold) tasted bitter to say and every action shamed me. I almost cancelled it midway, but like a trooper I braved it out to the end. And am now having a pint. Bloody Black Wednesday.

One saving grace is that having haemorrhaged 98% of my audience by the mid-point I was able to improvise around my Help-line sketch, playing on the fact that my sketches suck and that everyone had walked out. That felt good, I really loved that, it got laughs too. That’s how I should design my show from now on, give myself an escape route if needed. I was really pleased with that scene as smugly it felt like I’d designed it that way especially… but it was just good improv’ skills.

Yesterday was excellent, but today’s been dog-shit, but then you can’t win them all. This is definitely one to remember. And learn from. But for now, I’ve just got to plough on. One group at the very back absolutely loved it, they laughed constantly, but unfortunately they were too few, too quiet and too far away so were drowned out by the silence.

This show was for them. I don’t know who you are, we may never meet, but I thank you. You’re the TCP on a hankie after a kick in the head. As Moz says “It means a lot to me, it really does”.

Now to quote Mr Mark Jeary “anybody got a gun?” :-)

Mxxx