By Adam Martin

The only lengthy thing I’ve ever been proud of owning is my list of heroes. The list is exclusively funny people and since I became aware of them I’ve wanted to join them. So over the last year and a bit I’ve been trying stand up comedy after decades of putting it off. The first attempt took place – as good things do – in the small room of a pub.

You can’t fit more than about 15 people in and even that would mean unsolicited elbow rubbing, spilt drambuie and everyone having to breath in to let someone out for a wee. The small room in the King’s Arms is an intimate setting for a comedy cherry pop, and with an evening titled “The worst comedy night in Salford” I was feeling surprisingly calm when we sat down.

The “worst night” is more relaxed than a old shaggy dog who’s found a good sunspot and so when my name was called – no need to book, just turn up – I took my notes and ploughed into my, hopefully, five minutes of material. My goal was to get at least one solid laugh that I knew I’d earned and anything beyond that was a bonus. One laugh for all the marbles.

I got the solid laugh I wanted and I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything. I was overwhelmingly relieved but a little disappointed that the trains were still running and the riot police weren’t on the streets to keep back my new fans.

I would tell you how it went but you can see the results for yourself below. What’s most important to me about that first try is that it was exactly that, my first try. The first hurdle jumped with a beard related barb. The journey of a thousand seat theatre begins with a single quip.