Manchester

This blog has slightly evolved. Maybe not evolved, but taken a slight sideways step into something different. I intended it to be about university life, something I still intend, but it has now turned into a sort of comedy memoir. Up there with the memoirs of Nixon or that other guy. Important like those ones.

SPEAKING OF COMEDY, I recently did a gig in Manchester. I say recently, the end of February. I wanted to do this gig as the Frog and Bucket in Manchester is a fairly big deal, they have proper comedians that have been on the telly and that. I read various articles about comedians travelling and how it's all part of the game and everything. I could do that. Aberdeen to Manchester is not that far. A bit too far to take the train I had booked, but not far. I took the Megabus down the day before. Another insanity inducing experience. My friend stays in Manchester and agreed to let me stay over and everything. Perfectly fine.

WRONG.

The Megabus left Aberdeen at 7am, which meant I left the flat at 5:30, because I always think I'll be late unless I leave ridiculously early. Enough time for me to become complacent and still not be late. Correct, I fight my ego whilst planning travel. We travelled to Dundee and the driver said it's alright to get off and stretch your legs. I pondered whether to leave my bag on, but I decided to avoid it getting stolen and took it with me. Get back on the coach and my window seat with perfect distance to the toilet has been taken. I walk to another seat and make sure I shoulder barge him on the way, he knew I had that seat as he got on in Aberdeen also. He was also twice as big as me. He got off at Preston, thank fuck.

Preston looks a right shithole as well, just to let you know.

Got off in Manchester, couldn't find my bag in the hold. I call it a hold because it's not really a boot. Eventually found it after panicking and thinking it was stolen. Foreboding here. I met my friend, who had bright, perhaps electric, blue hair. He said he was going to redye it his original colour as it may be easy to point out in security footage. Amateur mistake to be honest. Maybe I shouldn't be talking about this.

Went to a student occupation at Manchester University where my friend is a key player in, maybe. He could have been bragging or I assumed it. Memory is better when it's multiple choice. Explored tunnels behind lecture halls and all that. Was pretty cool. Got some booze in and watched Dr. Strangelove. I fell asleep and snored. Whatever, not apologising, I cannot control it. Snored during the night in the lecture hall as well. Still not sorry.

Explored Manchester the next day, mainly Starbucks around the town. Tried to find an internet cafe to get some money into my account. Didn't manage. Wrote my setlist for the night and settled into some frozen fruit juice thingy that was fairly average. Chocolate chip shortbread is disgusting as well. They just failed at making shortbread. Sacrilage.

Let's get to the gig, shall we? Yes. It was at the Frog and Bucket, which holds about 300 people. I didn't know this. I started to wonder if I was actually any good, and this was after a cracking gig at Snafu in Aberdeen. The MC was a Simon Pegg lookalike and very funny, though he was helped by an incredibly camp man in the front row. With a man bag. The professional circuit comics did their best, but the crowd seemed unresponsive. It was alright. The crowd were fairly warmed up. Now let's get to the competition.

The audience members get three cards. If all three cards are put up during the open spot's five minutes, they have to leave and Beck's Loser plays. Sounds simple enough. It was made to be. Let's discuss my rivals, shall we?

• First up was a tattooed (?) man who talked about some TV show where they go into maternity wards. It was fairly well observed, yet at times simply described the show. He was confident enough. Lasted the five minutes.
  
• Next was a woman who talked all about sweatshops, I think in one liners, but I had either heard some of them before or were just predictable. It also faded towards the end, yet she had a weird delivery that seemed to take her through. Lasted the five minutes.
• Just before me was a guy that dressed weird and talked about how he dressed weird. He was a regular open spot and had done the same set for the last three years I heard. If you do the same set for three years and are not getting paid yet, the set is shit. It got laughs though, despite his obsession with describing himself. Lasted the five minutes.

I lasted three minutes. A theory is that when a few acts in a row last the time, they get a bit trigger happy, which seems plausible, but I just think that I was not good enough. My delivery may not be suited to a time limit where I can get taken off, but I should have altered it and made it snappier perhaps. Most of it is one liners as well. Have to become snappier than a hungover crocodile with a heroin addiction. That description would have flopped probably.

Went back to my friend's flat to sleep in there for that night with my bags still in the lecture hall. Used the internet for a bit, which was nice and slept heavily. My friend arrived in the morning with my bags, yet my laptop was missing. FUCK.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.

This was big, we went back to the lecture place to look for it, but it was not found and I couldn't check parts of it because there were actual lectures going on. And I had a train to catch, so there was no time. It was nicked or I was an idiot and fucking left it somewhere. Ergh. This ruined the whole thing. Ergh.

Train home. Cried mentally.

Would prefer to go to Preston that Manchester ever again. Fuck, I'll live there if that's the cost. Roughly £400 for a new laptop plus Preston plus a good gig.

I'll get over it.