I Almost Bowed!
Last Friday was a weird day. I’d performed my shows the evening before onboard a ship that carried 2,600 guests, 1600 of them were Dutch, 500 Americans, some Aussies and Canadians, a Kiwi and 22 Brits.
It’s not unusual for me to perform in front of such a demographic. I make it work. I am a pro with nigh on thirty five years experience of trying to make people laugh.
It is important to me that while you read this blog you know it wasn’t written to encourage any sort of congratulatory response. It was just a weird day and writing a blog helped me to work out why.
For the show to still on my mind the following day was very unusual. I have spent my whole career successfully managing to put shows out of my head as soon as the curtain is closed, the lights are down and way before the midnight buffet is enjoyed.
So why today?
My favourite time to perform is when the odds appear stacked against me. While most would look out and see reasons why the show would not work I think how the expectations had been lowered and that can only ever be an advantage. When the crowd laughs at anything, anyone can do my job. I sincerely believe that anyone can learn 45 minutes of jokes and the preferred order those gags should be told but could they do it in front of a crowd made up of multi nationals, up against the cruise line’s signature event and the daunting view of nothing but empty seats when a glance is stolen of the ‘audience’ from behind the curtain?
I am professional comedian and last night I had been given another opportunity to prove that.
Yet bewilderingly, there I stood wondering out loud, ‘Why waste me’?
Yes, I’d love a full house but I’d prefer this challenge any day.
My second show last night started at nine ‘clock and I was out of the theatre having said my ‘thank yous’ to the techs by 9.50. I walked up the stairs heading for the buffet – never would I call for the elevator after a show. Never. Why would I willingly put myself in a confined space with strangers who might, god damn it, want to compliment me? Nope, stairs it was.
I was walking up the stairs on a ship once in exactly the same situation. I’d performed minutes earlier and while I moved from step three to step four I’d heard,
“Excuse us, Paul.”
They were so polite I couldn’t ignore them. They had used my name! Too often members from a recently entertained audience would try and grab my attention using anything other than my name. I have had ‘Funny Man’, ‘Comedy Guy’ and ‘Joke Boy’! Now, in those instances, I am something of expert at not hearing! But those guests used my name so, somewhat reluctantly, I turned around and was greeted with,
“We know you’re going to hate this but we just loved your show. We’ll leave you in peace now.”
Well that was the perfect compliment. Short. To the point. Short!
Back to the night of this most recent show. It was while I was climbing towards deck nine that I realised the show was still on my mind.
I am aware that to some it would appear that I don’t care but that simply would not be the case. It is true that I don’t care about the audience’s reaction, that the performance is something I would only dwell on momentarily because, to me, the single most important part of the show are the jokes. I can spend days making sure that no word is wasted, that the gag is exactly right. Oh, and it never is, there is always room for improvement. And that improvement would often come from the most random of sources.
A singer once came up to after a show with a tip.
“Paul, I was thinking about the Soho gag. Instead of ending softly saying, ‘I saw my Dad,’ you should finish it with more animation: ‘I saw MY DAD’.
Admittedly, I walked away in disgust. I went through the gag in different ways and soon realised she was exactly right.
My way of telling the gag saw it garner a laugh maybe 60% of the time. Since it had been changed I don’t remember a time it hasn’t got a big laugh.
I’ve tempted fate, wait for next week’s blog when I talk about a joke failing for the first time in years!
Why was this show on my mind? Still?
Pizza had been ordered and a ridiculously bad coffee poured and I was sitting with my book open but not being read when the reason finally hit me.
The show wasn’t on my mind. The reaction from the audience was, or to be more specific, my reaction to that reaction.
I had said my goodbyes after the last laugh and I turned to return the microphone to its stand when I found myself, inexplicably, facing the audience and…what’s that?…acknowledging their reaction.
I don’t bow. I never have. There are many, many pros who have told me I am wrong. There are many, many non performers who have also told me I am wrong. And they’re right. I know that the audience are using this point to say thanks for the show. I just don’t think it is necessary. I believed they had thanked me, hopefully four times a minute, when they had reacted to each joke I had told. Anything more than that just makes me feel uncomfortable.
Not last Thursday night. Nope, there I was facing the audience, listening to the ovation. I nodded (still not a bow), I waved and mouthed a ‘thank you’.
Why? The answer is simple. I deserved it. That night was difficult and a couple of things came into my head in the split second that I found myself in this most unusual of positions.
I hadn’t been wasted. The bosses knew in this situation I was the safe pair of hands. I would make the audience laugh.
I deserved that show of appreciation.
However in that same split second I managed to regain my sense of reality and I turned from the crowd and walked off. But not before I pointed and laughed at the couple who had walked into the show during my final joke.
Fun clip here where I am having a fun conversation with Jeremy Hales about the reason(s) I don’t bow.