Hands take the flyers but there’s no conviction, no eye contact. They won’t be making the 3pm show. It’s free, I say ironically, dressed as I am as a highwayman. Three reviews so far, 4 stars, total. The venue is a hot room above a close and the jokes I spent my waking hours on aren’t landing. First week I blamed the heat, but now I know. Strong opening, my pal said, smiling. I jump out from the curtain and hold up the audience. Stand and Deliver! No, no, I’ll take your money at the end. Nose laughing, you know that kind of polite laugh that folk do from their nose? Then jokes about drinking in Aberdeen that tourists don’t get then jokes about my recruitment job in Aberdeen that people who aren’t recruiters don’t get. My pal says it’s a good first swing. I spent weeks negotiating this time off, my girlfriend is furious. No, this is the only swing. Cheers mate I say, hoping he’ll get the round. My pal’s been generous sure, but his futon’s like sleeping on a shipwreck and his girlfriend’s not happy either.
A punter takes a flyer. Cheers he smirks, we’re out of toilet paper. So am I, I say, and soap. I rub my hand over the remaining flyers, gurning. The punter bends his head back and really laughs. Like really laughs. He wags his finger at me, as if to say, you my man, you are funny.
He didn’t come to the show.
Caught With My Rants Down 