Tales from a new stand-up comic – Beating the Frog
In August 2016 Adam Martin wrote this piece about his first foray into the world of stand-up. His latest post is an update on his journey…
Since I last typed at you I’ve done some stand up gigs. Chief among these are the two attempts to Beat the Frog – Manchester’s comedy answer to the X factor. Three audience members are given cards and if they are raised before the act completes five minutes, the act is gone. The acts that make it are then voted on by the audience. This is the tale of my first attempt to flog an amphibian.
“Okay the rule is, give everyone at least a minute, but if they’re dying after that then vote them off.” The sage words of the compere as she addresses and controls the crowd with ease. “They’re all new acts or trying new stuff so be kind!”. She’s saying everything I need to hear as I pace nervously beside the tall steps to the stage and to the spotlight. It’s my first ever spotlight. A giant electric finger pointing directly at me in front of more than 100 people that says ‘This guy reckons he’s funny. Tell him what you think’. All the other places I’ve played were tiny pub rooms or moderately sized pub rooms. No need for extra lighting when the back row are close enough to spot my pimples. If I’m going to flee, it should be now.
The other acts do well with more going through than out. The person before me is finishing. The crowd clap. I’m next. “Folks, wasn’t that person great and keep it going for…”. I’m moving towards the stage but my legs feel like they’re not involved at all. The spotlight is ready to accuse my silly pink face.
My first joke lands about as well as a dart made of loose jelly and eels and nerves make me speed through my opening two minutes three times faster than human hearing can comprehend. I’m approaching the end of my minute of grace when I finally get a laugh. I take a breath and calm slightly. The next joke gets a titter, then a chortle and then actual honest to goodness laugher. I start to enjoy the sensation and reel off the material to workmanlike but unspectacular chuckles.
I’m getting to the end of my time and becoming acutely aware that I have about 30 seconds of material left. How long have I been on? I think I’m going to pass the finishing line but possibly by having to break into a spontaneous round of eye spy with the audience. The nerves gather for another assault when the happy frog chorus plays and I’ve made it to the end of five minutes.
I leave the stage and remember how to breath properly. It’s done! Finished! And I made it through. I didn’t win, but I hadn’t expected to. I leave the stage and soak up a few handshakes and a frosty pint of cider. Honestly, what was I was so worried about? The answer to that question, next time.