Gagged

It's going to be a busy lead up to Christmas for me; gig-wise that is, not in a yuletide way. Over to the right there is the upcoming shows I've got, so to speak. Someone asked me recently how the "touring" was going. Even though I've only got Belfast and Dublin lined up for slots varying between five and fifteen minutes long, I guess it is touring. There's tours in Belfast every day, and all they have to differentiate themselves is a big red/yellow bus. There's still someone behind a microphone drivelling on about some past glory or long-gone misdemeanour, struggling to make it interesting, while the listeners are led down the same predictable path in an old, ineffective vehicle. Sorry, I'll have to stop there as I've seen flashes of my future career. And present one.

Anyway, speaking of Belfast and Dublin, I did a gig somewhere that's not either of those places. Last thursday I clambered into the Morgan Hearst Comedy Vehicle with his good self and Ruaidhrí Ward and we all headed up to Derry to do a turn at Mason's Gagging Order Comedy Night. I'd never been to Mason's before, but heard nothing but great things about the place. It's a lovely room upstairs, with an even nicer, enthusiastic crowd and, best of all, great drinks promotions (double Jack and coke for a fiver?).

Gagging Order is the open mic/competition variant of the usual night they have there, so there was about eight different comics doing between 5-10 minutes. As fate would have it (or rather, the runner Eavan King), I was on first. Now, usually I hate going on first. It's not the fear of getting up in front of a crowd - that's long gone, as well as hope, aspiration and tact. Sure, there's nervousness in the five minutes before you get behind the mic; I'd be worried if there wasn't. It's just that sometimes parts of my material don't suit the start of the night, but MC Micky Bartlett had them warmed up nice and toasty and I launched into my five.

With the night being called "Gagging Order", you can't help but appreciate the tragic irony of what occurred halfway through my set. Everything was going great - the audience were up for it, I was enjoying myself a lot more than at other gigs, and was just building up to a big punchline, throwing in a few smaller laughs. I reached the end of the sentence, pointed to a random person in the crowd and - stared at them for five full seconds of silence. My mind had blanked. It wasn't that I was scrabbling around through the dirty laundry of gags in my head; my cognitive senses were caught short while on a smoke break. I just couldn't think of anything to end the sentence on. The guy I had been pointing at looked frightened and shrugged his shoulders, as if he were supposed to know the end of my own poxy joke. I apologised, moved on and got to the "big" punchline, which due to the unscheduled stop along the way, had folks confused, but still got a few laughs.

That's the first time that's happened to me in almost two years. It was by no means catastrophic, but very hard to recover from. Anyway, in the end, Mason's regular audience member Julie Lecky debuted and rightly won the evening. If she's doing it again around Derry or elsewhere, check her out, as well as more comedy nights at Mason's.

In any case, provided I don't have a mind-crash onstage again, check out the gigs to the right there. If you're reading this retrospectively, ignore the "Rest In Peace; 1989 - 2013" sign and donate some money to a local struggling comedian in your area.

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Monaghan man Gerry McBride was also up in Derry for the night, and he has a blog about various Irish comedians and (much better written) post-gig reports. Check it out No Punchline here.

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Unlike me that night, here's someone who can recover from forgetting his lines (albeit in a very constructed way).