Those who know me (almost no one) know that I want to be a comedian. If Noel Edmonds wasn't still alive I'd say it was my dearest ambition (and I'll say that to your face, Edmonds, so bring it on!) Actually, given the way the economy is, I don't think I have many viable options besides self-employment. I've been forced to make this choice, mother.
After spending a year trying to get into stand up in a city where I have few friends, fewer contacts, and no penis, I've signed up for the stand up comedy intro course, Beyond a Joke. This is a 6 week intensive course in Halewood with a gig at the end of it, run by Klare Murray, who I suspect is formidable. There is also an advanced course for comics who have been gigging for a little while and want to ramp up their marketability.
I'm relieved the course is run by a woman, I need role models in this ferociously male-dominated profession. In Liverpool I don't know any women who would rather be on the stage than in the audience. It's just a fact that most people won't want me to be funny unless I'm hilariously obese or mannishly gay. I may have to work harder, but so what? How is that different from any other job, besides wet nurse or prostitute?
Still I'm going for it (I can start eating pies... or clams. Or I can start punching people really hard in the face). The class is small so far: in week one there were four of us altogether. The first week is free just in case students get so embarrassed they decide never to show their faces in town again, but the price overall is great value for money - especially if you aren't sure you can learn this stuff. Some people think you can't be taught to be funny, but Klare argued that comedy can be learned like any skill. Well, they told me the same thing about physics, and where's my BBC science orchestra, that's what I want to know.
I've been working as a pseudo-support worker for disabled people for two years, and I could never have the patience Klare seems to possess. We sat in a circle and went overtime, mainly because all of us constantly interrupted her with nervously-trying-to-be-funny comments or idiotic questions, which she took in her stride. Every time someone cut her off I thought, these guys are fucking annoying. And then I thought, I am WITH these fucking guys, in the CIRCLE. I am ANNOYING. This is a SUPPORT GROUP FOR DICKS.
At least I am finally in a support group.
1 comment:
Hello! I am doing a course like this too in London and found some of the people a bit annoying as well. I especially found that when we would do little exercises they would sort of push me out of the scene but I have quickly learnt to push back and just get in first with my spiels and am feeling a lot happier. I hope you keep updating your blog with how it goes and that it improves a bit! Maybe you will grow to love the dicks! You've inspired me to write about my experiences too!
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