Feeling the fear at Funny Women Showcase

Strangely, I didn’t feel too nervous about my inaugural appearance at the Funny Women Showcase in Leicester Square Theatre. In the run-up to any performance, the majority of the day is often spent worrying on the toilet and pining for a get-away car back to my best friend’s house where we can settle in for a night of hot chocolate and Miss Marple re-runs, (the ones starring Joan Hickson of course), in spite of repeating various mantras to myself such as: “it’s only five minutes, you can do this”, “you’ve done this before” or the less forgiving, “just shut up!”
However, I’m still a relative newcomer to this and just as I was leaving, it suddenly hit me I’d be performing in an actual ‘theatre’ with an actual legacy, that the night had sold out, and some very decent and accomplished comics were on the bill; the five-minute slot began to take on a slightly unnerving and ultimately professional context.
On top of that, I admire the ethos of Funny Women, as a leading comedy brand that’s dedicated to finding and nurturing women’s funny voice, so by the time I arrived in the green room, which also phased me – never have I sat in one of those before (albeit a rather cramped one with no riders) – my brain and heartbeat were gathering speed in a whirligig fashion.

The majority of my gigs so far, have constituted little more than open-mic nights in dusty back-room pubs, sandwiched in between poetry a GCSE student would scoff at (one referring to a romantic liaison with an angel stands out) and a tuba quintet, which was brilliant actually. Not that I’m diminishing the importance of any of these gigs – even those with audiences consisting of unsupportive, bored-looking comics just wanting to perform, and punters who may as well be awaiting torture at Guantanamo Bay, for all the joy they exude.

That was hardly the atmosphere at the showcase though, with the presence and warm wit of Suzy Bennett, Winner of Funny Women 2006, taking charge of the proceedings. While we all sat waiting in the green room, myself manically running through lines (never a good idea but I’m yet to quash this unhelpful default setting) we were relieved to hear buoyant and hearty laughter spilling forth, perhaps not so relieved that the pressure was now on to keep this going.
Every gig is completely different and this is both one of the joys and peculiarities of performing, you can never be quite sure how you’ll feel once you’re on stage, such are the different emotions that can occur, especially when you catch sight of the motionless women in the front with an eyebrow raised about four inches, and discover that try as you might to ignore it, you become fixated by it for the next five minutes.   Someone once told me never to run up to the microphone (certainly wouldn’t try it as I know my propensity for head-butting things) but to calmly, almost nonchalantly take to the mic-stand. I always have what feels like an infuriatingly long moment of staring at the lead raveled around the stand, panicking that this time, the task of unraveling it could develop into a challenge of Krypton Factor proportions, while the bemused audience witnesses my despair. Not this time though, and I managed to get out an opening quip, without bringing over the mic-stand.

What made this gig particularly different was, owing to the dim lighting of the auditorium, I could only see about two rows back while the rest of the audience was shrouded in darkness. This was welcome from the point of view I was less likely to succumb to eyebrow distraction, but more disconcerting in that barely anyone was laughing in the front row (apart from one lovely guy who I couldn’t help but realise had a hearing aid though..) and I found my body language shifting further forward. Again, always a mistake as you give off the vibe that you’re almost urging the audience to punctuate your ‘jokes’ with a laugh.

Fortunately however, I could hear laughter (although who knows, perhaps it was prerecorded and canned to help me feel better). Yes, somewhere out there in the abyss, people were enjoying themselves. In the meantime, my ego was deflating with all the speed of a whoopee cushion.

Am extremely relieved I didn’t catch sight of one woman though, that I sat near in the second-half after performing. She tutted and grimaced her way throughout the rest of the acts, to such a distracting extent, I began to develop quite a strong urge to actually head-butt something properly that evening.

Half way through my set I also noticed there was a video camera to the side of the stage, looming at me like a trifid.

“Aaagh! I’m being filmed!” went my suddenly self-conscious brain. I don’t know if an expression of fear transpired across my face (and god knows, not sure I’ll watch the footage to find out!) but I realised I’d left out quite a bit of material and stumbled a bit on some new work, regarding the ridiculousness of dog owners who call their 20-foot high rottweilers, ‘Baby’.

However, as I’ve said, every gig is different and ultimately, another learning experience, as well as a great opportunity to meet other performers, particularly those who are part of the comedy institution that Funny Women has become.

Next Funny Women Showcase: December 13th

The Basement Studio, Leicester Square Theatre, 6 Leicester Place, WC2H 7BX

Doors 7.30 p.m. for show 8.00 p.m. (ends approx. 10.00 p.m.)

http://www.leicestersquaretheatre.com/