This morning, at about 3am, I clambered out of bed, got in the car, and drove to Oxfordshire. Well, my dad drove, but either way, we were travelling very early to the town of Banbury, where history was to be made...
To take away the mystery and grandiose, I'll let you know now, that the Attic in Banbury were attempting the world's longest ever comedy gig, spanning a continuous 92 hours across the Easter weekend. Hundreds of comics had flocked to be a part of the attempt, all of whom had to fit certain criteria of professionalism and length (at least 15 minute sets). I, in my infinite wisdom, volunteered an hour's slot from 5am to 6am on the Saturday.
I rather foolishly thought this would be a good place to run through my new show, but the almost fully inebriated crowd made that impossible. As I watched the comic before me finish his time battling with the early morning audience, I abandoned all thought of structure and tried to think what on earth could work in this environment. The answer? Pissing about.
I threw in some jokes and stories for good measure, but they just punctuated what was otherwise one of the weirdest hours of my life. Running a best beard competition, making people beat box, and stripping off my top whilst the crowd cheered and chanted, were all highlights of the morning; despite their combative nature, everyone was friendly, supportive and well up for a laugh.
A kind Gala Bingo worker named Paddy went and got me a pint of larger and I finished my set chugging it whilst everyone counted down. Then I introduced the next poor soul, and left, laughing to myself, unsure if any of what has happened had really happened.
Any Old Bollocks
A weekly blog where I just share random thoughts, tangents, and stories.