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Stanley McHale is a single man rapidly approaching thirty who loves and dreams of the same things he did when he was seventeen. But the band was never formed, the novel never finished, and the ill-chosen career in stand-up comedy is giving him more headaches than headlines. With the self-imposed deadline of his thirtieth birthday to either make an international success of himself or go and work in Woolworths, why not pull yourself up ringside seats for the tragically inevitable descent into mania and psychosis by reading his increasingly inane, pedantic, desperate, harrowing and wretched daily diary. It'll make you feel a whole lot better about yourself.

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Sunday 29th October 2006

Posted by on October 29, 2006 3:24 PM | 

Comedians are impossible to please. Today I would have loved to have just had a roast dinner, catch up with some stuff, have a potter about the flat, but had to go to Newcastle for two (count ‘em) gigs. This was annoying, but then if I didn’t have any work I would be equally frustrated. There can be no easier to please set of individuals than comics. Maybe the people than run Socialist Worker… They’re never happy if you read the posters for their paper. No ruling Government can put a foot right as far as they’re concerned. The idealistic 80’s idiots.

But the drive to Newcastle was fine, once again with Chris Cairns. We had a good laugh on the way up there, talking about the rubbish games we used to play as kids – in particular Subbuteo. Can there be a less accurate version of a sport than the game replicated in Subbuteo? Flicking little footballers about until they are in a position to have a strike at goal and then trying to flick the ball past a goal keeper on a stick (whilst the player itself went flying twenty feet in the air). Well yes, there can, as Chris pointed out. That game would be table cricket. In this, you ‘bowled’ the ball down a drain pipe towards you batsman, who somehow was engineered to strike it somehow, and if the ball rested beneath the feet of a fielder you were out. It had as much in common with a came of cricket as the human DNA structure does with a waistcoat.

We were laughing about the football commentary if football really was played like Subbuteo, “And here’s Beckham, oh and he’s ended up behind the radiator!� and “And this is going to get tricky for West Ham because their defence has just been hoovered up by Mum�, etc, and then had to decide who’s idea it was if either of us were to use it in stand-up. Whilst the idea itself is pretty basic, it could fit into a longer piece about rubbish games and so it’s a tempting tit-bit. It was decided Chris could have it and that’s fine with me because he did suggest most of it.

But this is a common problem with comics nattering away and coming up with an idea together, only then to realise only one can use it in their act. It happened he other day in York with the very delightful Gordon Southern. We were talking about banks… I can’t remember why. I think I said something about having been with the same bank since I was a child, so only ever having had one bank, and how in that respect banks are like girlfriends. I said something like “Except I’ve paid more money into girlfriends� to which Gordon said “But I’ve had more interest from banks� and so it continued until we had a nice little bit of material that potentially could be used. By one of us. Gordon had contributed more, and so he had it. I did say “You can have it, but only if you do it tonight� (he was about to go on stage) but I was only joking. I am a comedian.

Then, on the drive to Newcastle today, a right kick in the chops. We were talking about the homeless and I mentioned to Chris a joke I’ve got about telling a homeless person a joke instead of giving them money, to send them on their way with a smile on their face whilst you’re not out of pocket.

YOU: “Knock Knock?�

HOMELESS: “Who’s there?�

YOU: “I thought you were homeless?�

Boom Boom.

But Chris said, “Yeah, the thing is, Peter Kay does that joke on one of his DVDs.�

I was shocked, it’s an old pub joke that I heard years ago and the only pub joke (i.e. joke I’ve not written) that I ever do. It’s a simple laugh and always goes down well. I was appalled that I’ve unconsciously been doing a gag that millions probably own on DVD and therefore people assume I think it’s okay to use Peter Kay’s material. Especially annoying as it’s about the only gag I tell – the rest of the set is routines and stories. I’ll have to drop it now. But maybe it’s good I drop it now before people see me as a second rate Peter Kay.

The irritating thing is I heard that joke so long ago, off an old bloke in a pub in Liverpool, that there’s no way Peter Kay wrote it. That DVD wasn’t even out then. He’d done the same as me and heard it in a pub. Still, he is more successful than me and so I can’t claim any right to it. It’s in the public domain, or was, and now it’s in the Peter Kay domain. Material is a fickle thing amongst comedians. Time was, in the old days, every comic just used each other’s stuff. No more, and quite rightly.

First gig in Newcastle was fine, just a nice chat, but I made my way on foot to the second (down some pitch black steps by Newcastle’s castle – I didn’t even know there was a castle in Newcastle) with news from Chris that this was a famously tough venue. It’s only been running six weeks and all the shows have been heckle-fuelled nightmares. I arrived to find the large room nearly empty, save about twenty punters, and a comic on stage having a very tough time. But I am olde and wise now and it didn’t bother me too much – I arrogantly still thought it would be okay.

It was tough. One group of lads were a boxing team and they didn’t really shut up. There was a group of four girls from Bristol finishing a weekend birthday trip who didn’t quite know what they’d let themselves in for, and then others scattered about looking miserable. I did about twenty five minutes before saying “Ah, come on, to hell with this, let’s get a drink at the bar�. But then, bizarrely, the group of lads came over to me and told me they thought it had been brilliant. They just thought that heckling was all part of the fun, which it is to an extent, but not when it’s incessant and nothing I say pacifies it. Still, I am long in the tooth now and just see gigs like tonight as a wage. You do learn more in these situations than at easy gigs though so they do have some professional value.

Chris drove me home and we got in at about 2.30am having driven along deserted motorways, eleven hours after setting off. It’s all travel in this game. Half an hour on stage, i.e. working, in an eleven hour day. But the fact I can spend the majority of my working day talking rubbish about Subbuteo still means I am fortunate.

I could never do a proper adult job if I tried.

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