In it for the laughs
Living in London can be a nightmare if, like me, you are living on a measly budget and trying to fit in course commitments, work and somehow squeezing in a social life somewhere along the line. With this in mind, I have tried over the last week to stop feeling sorry for myself and get out there and make the most of my time. Instead of spending time moping about, feeling guilty about not getting enough done and forever checking my wallet for that lost pound coin, I have picked myself up and taken advantage of the cheaper side of London.
This began last Wednesday with a trip to the Comedy Cafe in Old St. Cheap, cheerful and a potential story. What more could I ask for? The shows at the Comedy Cafe usually cost around £10, but with so much "talent" around, there is a special free night where comedians (victims) can come and try out their material. Big mistake. With no cover charge, punters are free to wonder in off the street and spend their hard earned cash on booze. This also means that office parties often migrate there with the promise of a few cheap laughs at the boss' expense.
As I took my seat, I could sense the crowd getting riled up, ready for their first victim. Up steps the compere (think the child-snatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang meets Fagin) who informs the already boozed-up crowd that the evening's acts are not used to heckling. This gives the green light for the comments to begin. On comes the first act. A young man wearing a striped t-shirt bravely went first and promptly died on his feet after a "where's wally gone bad" comment. Through the night we see 10 acts and are invited to rate them out of ten, although the cheers, or jeers, work well enough.
As the night progresses I am singled out as the next prey as, mid-joke, I turn round to look at the fireman talking to the compere, leading to many hose jokes as I become the compere's stooge. I can't complain though after what was after all a free evening. I'll just make sure I'm not at the front next time.
This began last Wednesday with a trip to the Comedy Cafe in Old St. Cheap, cheerful and a potential story. What more could I ask for? The shows at the Comedy Cafe usually cost around £10, but with so much "talent" around, there is a special free night where comedians (victims) can come and try out their material. Big mistake. With no cover charge, punters are free to wonder in off the street and spend their hard earned cash on booze. This also means that office parties often migrate there with the promise of a few cheap laughs at the boss' expense.
As I took my seat, I could sense the crowd getting riled up, ready for their first victim. Up steps the compere (think the child-snatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang meets Fagin) who informs the already boozed-up crowd that the evening's acts are not used to heckling. This gives the green light for the comments to begin. On comes the first act. A young man wearing a striped t-shirt bravely went first and promptly died on his feet after a "where's wally gone bad" comment. Through the night we see 10 acts and are invited to rate them out of ten, although the cheers, or jeers, work well enough.
As the night progresses I am singled out as the next prey as, mid-joke, I turn round to look at the fireman talking to the compere, leading to many hose jokes as I become the compere's stooge. I can't complain though after what was after all a free evening. I'll just make sure I'm not at the front next time.
posted by Mary-Ann at 2:28 pm
1 Comments:
It's hard being poor isn't it? I'm desperatly trying to think up ways to legally make money whilst go to all the lectures. If you have any ideas please let me know.
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