The Edinburgh Fringe Festival is the largest arts festival in the world with 2,695 different shows being performed there this year. Of these, about 970 of them are comedy shows. Every year a large number of our Irish comedians travel over to the festival for the three weeks to showcase their talents and this year has been no exception. I came back from Edinburgh yesterday having spent 10 days there both performing and watching shows. To the uninitiated or naive, doing a Fringe show sounds like a great excuse for comedians to go to Edinburgh on a three week booze holiday (and to some it is) but for most it really is quite the opposite. The Fringe is an expensive three weeks out of your normal life. A lot of performers have full time jobs and need to take holidays/leave in order to facilitate their trip and they often leave their family and friends behind. I only went over to do a week’s worth of gigs in the Free Fringe (I’ll explain in a bit) with another comedian, Greg Marks in a show called “The Full Irish” (we had a great time and our numbers were good…thanks for asking) but it was tough going. We had a fraction of the work that performers doing their own one hour shows had to do and yet at the end of a week, we were exhausted. Doing a full Edinburgh Fringe show is a serious business.

For me, being at the Fringe for a week felt like a month so I can’t begin to think what three or more weeks is like. I was lucky enough to see some Ireland’s best comedians like Chris Kent, Eleanor Tiernan, Gearoid Farrelly, Trevor Browne and Fred Cooke go through their Edinburgh experience. It’s an endurance race; a marathon. The Fringe is a little world of it’s own and while performing at the Fringe, the outside world loses importance, the days merge into each other and you have very little time to do anything other than promote, perform, eat and sleep. Although it can be great fun, it can also be very stressful. The whole experience can be huge drain psychologically, physically and financially.  For a start, flyering and performing every day is physically tough. Not only do comedians have their own show to do but often they will take guest spots at other shows in order to promote their own show. There’s also compilation shows to do such as Late ‘n Live, The Best of Irish and the Death of Comedy (some of these shows run very late into the night). There is constant admin to be done, emailing review sources and making sure reviewers get comps, interviews with journalists and doing podcasts. Others have places in comedy competitions such as So You Think You’re Funny, Funny Women or the BBC Radio 2 Comedy Awards (which I competed in but didn’t get through to the semi-finals. It was great fun…again thanks for asking). These competitions can add an extra layer of stress to an already stressful time.

Putting on a show is a Herculean task that starts long before the Festival itself. There are months of writing and trying out material for your show by doing shorter gigs, rewrites and finally a few full preview shows to bring all the elements of the performance together. Some performers even employ the services of a director for their show to help them craft it.

There’s also the decision to be made as to whether you want to do a show as part of the Free Fringe or as part of the paid Fringe for one of the “big four” venues (Pleasance, Assembly, Gilded Balloon and Underbelly) or for the independent “Stand” venues. As part of the Free Fringe any performer can apply to either the Laughing Horse or PBH organisations for a place in one of hundreds of venues around Edinburgh. The performer has minimal costs for this (a small fee for the venue and a fee to be included in the main Fringe programme) and makes money by asking for contributions from the audience at the end. This is how myself and Greg did things (we managed about £60 a day between the both of us, which paid for meals and a few drinks). This approach is best for those that don’t want to make a big financial outlay. It means you can get experience doing a show without the big risks. You do all the tech work yourself as well as all the promotion and flyering. You’ll get some exposure and you may also get a review from one of the Fringe review sites such as Three Weeks or Broadway Baby.

If you decide to put on your own show in one of the “big four” venues such as the Gilded Balloon or the Pleasance, you have to rent the venue for your time there. This is an expensive route often costing anything between £3,000 to £10,000 depending on the size of the venue and the technical requirements. For this you get support from the venue/promoters, you get a dedicated “techie” to do the sound/lights for your show and you get people to flyer for you. Flyering is very important at the Fringe. It’s where people (yourself included sometimes) go outside the venue and solicit people to come to your show. With so many shows available, it’s important to have people doing this that know about your show, are enthusiastic and can charm people into taking a punt on your show above the others that are on at the same time. With the paid route, you are basically trying to recoup the rent you pay for the venue via your ticket sales. For many, this means that they leave the Fringe having lost money. The exception to this is the Stand, a collection of comedy venues on the other side of town from the Gilded Balloon, Underbelly etc. They put on shows where the performer has no upfront costs. The venue/promoters take the financial risk of the show and underwrite the costs, meaning the performer does not lose money. The venue then splits the ticket sales with around 20-30% going to the performer.  This route would seem to be the ideal but getting one of these venues can be difficult as demand is high and they only pick performers that they are confident will recoup their investment.

The other reason to do a show in one of the “big four” venues (or the Stand) is that you are more likely to get a review from one of the more prestigious sources such as Chortle, The Scotsman or even one of the national newspapers such as the Guardian or the Independent. It also means that you’re more likely to be taken into account for one of the major comedy awards such as the “Eddies” (formally the Perrier Award). Winning one of these can hugely raise the profile of any performer. Again, reviews and awards pile on the pressure.

So if it’s such hard work and so stressful, why do it you ask? Well firstly, doing your own show is almost a rite of passage for many comedians. It’s a major achievement regardless of the reviews you get. It’s the sign that you’re moving things up to another level and taking your career as a comedian more seriously. An Edinburgh show is a way of getting yourself noticed, gaining more respect in your field and most importantly, increasing your chances of getting bigger and better paid gigs than before. There’s also the chance that someone in TV or Radio might take notice of your show while you are (though don’t hold your breath). But most of all, despite the hard work, the Fringe is fun. It’s a chance to meet up with your peers in a beautiful city, watch other talented people do their stuff and eat the odd battered Mars bar.

The Fringe is an expensive proposition no matter which way it’s worked, so if you see a comedian doing a “preview” show in Dublin next year, do go along, support them and give them a few bob for a ticket. They deserve it. Especially if it’s me.

Christian will be spending the next 11 months writing his Edinburgh show and boring the arse off anyone who will listen about it. Now is the time to defriend him on Facebook and unfollow him on Twitter.

*Photo by Angela Curiello

With the Olympics now in full swing, you can’t turn on the BBC without hearing the name “Team GB” being mentioned every few seconds. Team GB is what Great Britain and Northern Ireland (technically Northern Ireland is part of the Unitied Kingdom and not Great Britain so they’re being left out again) have rebranded themselves. Not content with having a normal country name like all the other countries in the world taking part, the UK, much like the unpopular kid at school, has created their own cool nickname that they hope everyone will start calling them. Of course nobody other than themselves ever will.

UK – Hey USA! Could you like…start calling us “Team GB”?
USA – What the hell is “Team GB”?
UK – It’s our new rockin nickname. It’s cool eh? Could you call us that and then maybe all the cool countries will call us that too?
USA - Hell no! I’m gonna call you “Shit Pants”
UK – But we spent loads of money on a consultant to rebrand the country. We have t-shirts and everything.
USA – You rebranded the whole country?
UK – Yeah! Cool eh?
USA – Stay the hell away from me dork. And don’t let me see you hanging out at the soda shop. I’ll kick your ass. Wait till I tell France and Italy about this.

Brazil – Hey USA! Ireland are having an after-party for the Opening Ceremony. You comin?
USA - Hell yeah! It’ll be off the hook. It’s gonna have booze ‘n chicks ‘n shit. I’m totally there!
Team GB – Hey guys.  Is there a party? Can I come? I’ll bring some low alcohol lager.
USA – You heard nothin. Keep walkin “Great Britain”. You friggin loser. Nice T-shirt.
Brazil – Why can’t he just be cool like Ireland.
USA – I dunno dude. I dunno.

France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Portugal – Hey Team GB! Lovin the T- Shirt!
Team GB – Really??
France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Portugal – No! Ha ha ha…

Ireland – I like the T-Shirt.
Team GB – Oh please don’t.
Ireland – No really. It’s cool. With the colours and everything. It suits you.
Team GB – Honestly?
Ireland – God yeah. And listen don’t be lettin the other countries get you down. You’re grand.
Team GB – You really think so? Am I cool?
Ireland – Yeah! Sure you’re great craic altogether.
Team GB – Aw thanks. That means a lot.
Ireland – No bother. Listen. If you’ve any work goin…you know…roads, buildings, bar work…I’d really appreciate it if you let me know. Anything at all like…

Team GB – The most important thing is the number of medals we win.
USA – The most important thing is taking part.
Germany – The important thing is the respect of our fellow countries.
Japan – The most important thing is performing honourably.
Ireland – Loooooowww Lieeeee the Fields of Athenry. Ole Ole Ole Ole! Jesus London is big! Is that a hooker?

Team GB – Guys I hope you like the accommodation and the facilities. A lot of money has been spent so I hope you enjoy it.
Germany – Money you borrowed off me.
Team GB – And you’ll get it back.
Germany – Ya right.
Ireland – I built most of it.
Poland - Screw you, I built most of it!
Team GB – Look it doesn’t matter just enjoy it.
Ireland – Free gaff!
USA – Let’s wreck the joint!
Team GB – Nooo! Not the carpet. My parents will be home in 3 weeks!
USA – Hate that Poindexter.

I have a problem. I’m tired all the time. My wife has me worn out. I’m exhausted. Every evening it’s the same routine. She tries to get me out of my clothes and into bed at the earliest opportunity and she keeps me awake most nights until 2 o’clock in the morning saying, “Just one more” in an eager passionate voice. That’s right. My wife is addicted to American TV Shows. At the moment it’s Season 2 of Game of Thrones. Last month it was Mad Men. There’s always another one.

The biggest problem is that these shows are addictive and between Netflix and box sets, you don’t have to wait a week for the next episode like you had to do when I was young. The next episode is only a couple of clicks away. It’s like the TV equivalent of Pringles. Once you pop, you can’t stop. And when one series finishes, there is always another. When the last episode of Boardwalk Empire is shown, I’m unceremoniously kicked out of the bed and into the study to find new and unheard of American shows to keep the addiction sated. Have you heard of a series called “Suits”? No, I didn’t think so. But we have. Series one and two.

And just when you think you’ve got some respite with the last ever episode of “House”, along comes Arron Sorkin (writer of the “West Wing” and “The Social Network”) with “The Newsroom”. Another fast paced, intelligent drama series where clever people walk along corridors together at a jog while firing out dialogue like a machine gun. Not just any old dialogue but sharp, witty discussions, mostly full of essential plot points. This is very entertaining at 8pm in the evening but you try following it at 1am after a glass* of wine. Plus I’m not great at keeping up with things anyway. Quick witted, I am not. In the witted stakes I’m more middle distance or marathon paced. I find Antiques Roadshow moves along too swiftly for me. When watching these shows my mental tardiness usually results in the same conversation;

Me: “Who’s that guy?”
My Wife: “He’s her boyfriend”
Me: “Was he in it before?”
My Wife: “He was in it 5 minutes ago!”
Me: “I don’t remember seeing that. What happened?”
My Wife: “I’m not explaining it to you!”
Me: “Can we rewind for a second?”
My Wife: “Touch the remote and I’ll break your friggin hand. And put down the phone, there is no one on Facebook at this hour.”

I have numerous seasons of this to look forward to. The strange thing is, the shows that I like don’t interest her in the least. Breaking Bad and Louie leave her cold (I know! She’s got NO taste!), so I’m reduced to watching them on my own, on the laptop when she’s out, as if it’s some sort of embarrassing pornography.

I blame American TV for my lack of sleep, my fatigue, my often delicate mental state and my conditioning that all stories should be in 24 separate sections of 40 minutes in length.

And we haven’t even watched the Wire yet….

*bottle

Today started out much like any other in work. It was a Monday and people were slow to get into the working mood. There was talk of what people had done over the weekend, what films they went to see, what meals they ate and how drunk they got. A pretty average Monday, until the unthinkable happened. Something that brought all work in our office to a grinding, shuddering halt.

Our Internet connection stopped working.

Here is a my minute by minute diary of what transpired today. My workplace will never be the same again….

10am – We’ve no Internet at work…apart from my phone. I am the only link with the outside world. I’m just going to save myself and let the others perish. If this was the Matrix, I’d be the guy eating the steak and fucking everyone over. People are starting to sweat and ponder the realisation that they might have to actually buy a paper at lunchtime.

11.30am – Update. Still no Internet. It’s been like this for over an hour. It’s like Lord of the Flies. I’ve seen a grown man beaten to death with a mouse mat because he said he might have a 3G dongle in his bag. I’m hiding behind the photocopier.

12pm – People are now starting to horde water and screen cleaner. Some colleagues are contemplating whether the end of the world is at hand.

12.30pm – I’ve been noticed, I think perhaps for the first time in months. Behind the photocopier. Someone asked if I want a cup of tea. I’m not falling for it. It’s a trap. I’m sure of it.

1pm – The fat irritating woman from admin has cracked and taken out a John Grisham novel. The others have sensed weakness and pounced. There are pages, man made fabric and rescue remedy everywhere. It’s horrific. I can hardly watch.

1.30pm – I’m genuinely worried now. Our Managing Director is so beaten down by hours on the phone to IT support that others are planning a coup. A new guy in accounts has pierced his nose with paper clips and is carrying out a strange physical display outside the boss’s window in a challenge to his leadership.

2pm – It’s all kicking off. The MD and his would be usurper are bare chested and eying each other up, circling each other in a ring made up of software developers and graphic designers all hitting iPads and shouting “Twitter, Twitter, Twitter”. The admin team are cowering under their desks. The smell of sweat and toner cartridge is thick in the air.

2.30pm – One of the other Directors has intervened. He’s pulled the two apart and shouted “This is not proper office attire!!!”. The crowd are confused. Sense and calm seemed to have restored until he followed up with “What’s Twitter anyway?”. Once again, the crowd turn ugly and start to staple him to death shouting “Why didn’t you employ a dedicated in house IT manger! Your desire to save money by outsourcing has crippled us all!”.

3pm – Some of the consultants and project managers have broken off and gathered in the board room, barricading themselves in. They are furiously scribbling on White Boards and concocting a strategy for an Internet free business environment. They look to be exceptionally happy in contrast to the guy in charge of business continuity, who is currently in the foetal position, slowly rocking himself and whispering “I told them. But they wouldn’t listen”, over and over again.

3.30pm – Some of the junior staff have taken over the kitchen. They are drunk on alcoholic hand sanitizer liquid. They have blocked access to the coffee, tea bags and milk and are laughing hysterically while performing David Brent dance-offs. There is an air of menace.

4pm – The cleaners have arrived. They’re in shock. When told the reason for the carnage they offer “Have you tried turning it off and on again?”. They have been locked in a filing cabinet by the IT staff who are now beating the sides of it with keyboards shouting “We’ve got degrees! Don’t you think we’ve thought of that already!”. The women are squealing in high pitched voices. There is a smell of urine in the air. Eventually one of the IT staff concedes that they haven’t actually tried turning it off and on again and goes to do so.

4.30pm – The Internet is now working once more. IT support have given no specific reason for our loss of Internet and are currently engaged in trying to remove two middle aged cleaners from a locked and badly damaged filing cabinet.

5pm – People are starting to leave, the sunlight bringing them to their senses. There will be little sleep tonight as the visions of today’s events linger in our minds. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.

The Euro 2012 championships are coming up and surprisingly, I will be watching it. The Ireland matches at least. Why is this surprising? Well I’ve never really been that interested in football. When I was at school, I made a few attempts to like it. I bought football boots and a few copies of Shoot magazine. I even played for a couple of teams. I say play. I got to play twice and only because those were times when our team was leading by such a margin that putting me on could not jeopardise us winning, no matter how much I messed up. And I did mess up… all the time. I’d run around after the ball like a headless chicken with no clue about strategy or formation, even when I was supposed to be the goalie. I’d get in the way of our own players and constantly give away penalties for handball. I’d leave the pitch with the phrase “Talbot ye spa!” ringing in my ears (their un-pc term not mine). In short, I was the kid that was told to “warm up” on the sideline. In school, I was normally picked in the last five of those who were hopelessly bad (I’m going to say last 5 and not last as I do have some dignity left. Not much…but some).

Although I tried, in truth my heart was never in it. I was just never supposed to be a football fan. I never liked the laddish culture that went along with it, the aggression, the violence or latterly the casual racism that seems to mar the Premiership these days. I could never remember the names of the players or the teams. I’d call them Manchester Rovers or Liverpool United much to the embarrassment of real football fans. It never bothered me as much as others who seemed to take the whole thing very seriously. Maybe it’s because I’ve never really been a team player. I really prefer sports where it’s one person pitting themselves against others as individuals. For example I would happily watch two boxers beat seven shades of crap out of each other in the name of sport than watch a team. I never said I was consistent.

But the biggest obstacle to me getting into football was supporting a “named” team. I just can’t make an emotional and practical commitment to a team arbitrarily. I’ll give you an example. My friend Steve supports Manchester United. Probably because they have loads of money and win things quite a bit (or so I’m lead to believe). A few weeks ago there was a big match thingy where Manchester United played Manchester City and they lost. Steve was most upset. So upset that he could barely talk for two days. A grown man. In a huff. For two days. About a football match over which he had no control, played by people he’s never met, for a team from a city he’s never even been to. Nobody can tell me that’s a reasonable way for an adult to behave.

Now on the other hand, I’m quite prepared to sit and watch our national team compete in the Euros. Why? Because it’s something the whole country can get behind and it isn’t as silly as picking the team with the most money who win things. You support your own country no matter what., through thick and thin (make your own jokes about the “stupid” and “skinny” players on the team here. I don’t know their names).

I’ll be there, sat in front of the TV on Sunday for the first match against…well whoever it is…I have no idea but I’m sure they’re very good too. I will be sitting with a bunch of friends, eating starchy, over-salted snacks and drinking beer (not wine…never wine for football…even I know that). I’ll probably shout random things at the screen at the most inopportune times like “Offside Ref!” (I still have no idea what offside means but it makes me look authoritative) or the ever famous “Put Em Under Pressure!”.

Either way I’ll be having a good time and I sincerely hope Ireland get as far as they can. We’ll be proud of them. God knows we need something good to get behind these days.

So get your flags out and your Ireland jerseys on. Let’s hope Ireland get many many tries.

Like me, many of you will have been watching the Queen’s Jubilee celebrations over the weekend with a mixture of curiosity, incredulity and downright mockery. “Look at the silly British with their Queen”, we think to ourselves. “We’d never let someone unelected tell us what to do”. Apart from Angela Merkel obviously. But otherwise, this kind of stuff doesn’t sit well with us, not just because of our history with the British and their monarchy but also because we Irish really don’t have any appetite for the veneration of others. At our very core, we are a nation of begrudgers. The very idea of celebrating one person above others (apart from the whole religion thing, but let’s not go there) is a complete anathema to us. Particularly someone who has done nothing to deserve that adulation and let’s face it, what has the Queen ever done, apart from look unhappy in a very heavy hat?

Maybe it’s the remnants of the class system in Britain which makes many of them so eager to celebrate and defer to someone who takes their taxes and yet would step over them if they were on fire.

Maybe it’s also to do with the British psyche. They love winners whereas the Irish love triers. We love the Underdog whereas they love the Overlord. Never is it more apparent than in sport. If Ireland were to get into the World Cup final and lose, the team and manager would be feted. There’d be a national holiday. Thousands of drunk revelers would line the streets for their journey from the airport home. They would be national heroes. If England were to do the same, they’d hang their heads in shame. There’d be a month of press coverage as the media try to work out who to blame for the loss and as to whether the manager should be sacked. There’d be no party.

If the Irish do idolise anyone, it’s usually someone who has gone through great suffering or made some sort of sacrifice. Like Mother Teresa (who endured poverty to help those less fortunate than ourselves), Nelson Mandela (who spent years in jail as a political prisoner) or Jack Charlton (who had to put up with both Roy Keane and Eamon Dunphy). Queen Liz would just never cut it with us, having only to ever suffer a rare pop concert in her name, some trooping of the colour and an embarrassingly racist husband, all with a face on her like a well slapped arse. If our President Dobby had a pop concert in his name, he’d be grinning from ear to ear like Gryffindor had just won the Quidditch World Cup.

But if we really did have to celebrate the life of someone unlikeable, who thinks they’re better than everyone else, with loads of money and who pays very little tax, who would it be? Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you “Bono Day”.

So tomorrow is the day that Ireland votes on the Fiscal Treaty. No wait…come back! I’m not going to talk about the ins and outs of what the vote means or even encourage you to vote one way or another. I don’t even live in the Republic of Ireland at the moment (not for the want of trying) so vote whatever way you like for all I care. Whichever vote makes the Euro weaker compared to the pound is fine by me. The more batterburgers, Budweiser and cheap diesel I can get for my money every time I’m down, the better. But do vote.

No doubt, at the end of tomorrow evening, you’ll look at your clock and think “I have an hour left to vote, can I be arsed getting up out of the chair?”. And who can blame you? The chair is comfortable. You’ve had a hard day. You’ve got a beer in your hand and there’s an episode of 30 Rock on Comedy Central that you’ve not seen before. But most of all, you don’t relish the thought of having to go to the school down the road to cast your vote. Nobody does. Everyone hates schools. Especially the people that have to work there. Schools smell of chalk dust, stale sandwiches and piss and bring back memories of youth, homework and casual violence. No one would willingly spend time in a school unless they were being paid.

So what’s the alternative?

Have the voting in the another venue. Somewhere people enjoy being. They’ll be more likely the leave the house with their voting card if it’s to somewhere they’ll have a good time. Like…

The Pound Shop
Everyone seems to fucking love pound shops for some reason. Even if they never intended going through the door, they love it when they do. Cast your ballot and pick up all those things you forgot you really needed. Three doorstops for a euro. You always needed doorstops but you forgot until you saw them there. And three for a euro! That’s good for doorstops isn’t it? And batteries. You need them. You always need them.

Mrs Brown’s Boys
The whole of Ireland (excluding me and the people I call my friends) love Brendan O’Carroll’s cliched oirish “hilarious” sit-com and stage play. If the government really wants to get people out to vote, just put this on a big screen in Phoenix Park and have the voting after it. It’s like cat-nip for idiots.

The Pub
The pub really is the place where voting should take place, after all it’s where nearly all of the serious political debates take place in Ireland anyway (apart from on Vincent Brown). They should really re-write the slogan “One man, One vote, 3 pints please”. Everyone would leave the house of an evening to vote if it was to go to the pub. And let’s face it, the publicans could do with the business. Two birds, one stone. The only problem would be going to the pub too early. “Four pints of Carlsberg please and here’s our ballots. Two Nos and a Yes. I’m afraid Ger spoiled his vote. He’s been drinking since noon. He’s just drawn a huge cock and balls. Sorry about that”.

There’s a few “dos and don’ts” guides on the Internet for budding stand-up comedians (I’ve even included one on this blog, although it’s mostly just to say “read Robbie Bonham’s much better blog”). There doesn’t seem to be too much in the way of guides for new comedy promoters. With that in mind, I’ve decided to write up some of the things I’ve noticed while doing gigs. This is all from a comedian’s point of view, not a promoter’s. These are all just opinion. Take from them what you will. I’m not having a go at any particular promoters or at promoters in general. I’m just saying what I see.

1. Do make sure that the venue in which you run your gig is right for comedy. The minimum you should have is
1. a separate room in the venue (if it’s a pub etc) for the gig
2. a stage (or separate stage area)
3. lights (if the audience is lit brighter than the performer you’re doing it wrong)
4. proper seating for your audience
5. a working PA system (or an amp/speaker at the very least)
6. a working microphone (have a spare mic and lead also)
7. a mic stand that works properly.
8. a bar with bar staff that have been briefed beforehand not to shout at the tops of their voices or unload the beer delivery for tomorrow during the acts
2. Don’t have too many acts on at the gig. Four – Five acts plus an MC is plenty. There is such a thing as too much. No audience will have the stamina for ten performers and it’s unfair on those going on at the end. The audience will be comedy’d out.
3. Do make sure you have a decent MC for the gig and be prepared to pay for quality.
4. Don’t have a 15 minute break in the middle just for the sake of it. If there’s hardly anyone in, keep the momentum going, especially if the acts have been good. If people want a drink, smoke or toliet break, they should do it during the MC. Too long a break and the energy goes out of the room.
5. Do make an effort with a backdrop for the stage, candles on tables, flyers for the next gig on the tables and appropriate music before the show in keeping with the type of audience (the music is for the audience not you. Not everyone likes Gangster Rap). If you have an email maling list, send a sheet round for the audience to sign up. If the venue does food, consider putting round sausages, chips etc during the gig to keep punters there and coming back next week. They’ll also drink more and keep the venue happy. They may even start to chip in to pay the acts.
6. Don’t start up a gig just to give yourself a headline spot or the MC job because you can’t get one elsewhere. It’s self-indulgent. If you care about the gig, hand over the MC spot to others from time to time. If you really want to headline or MC, work harder at being a stand-up. Other promoters will give you gigs when you’re good enough. Learn to walk before you try to run. It’ll stand you in better stead in the long run.
7. Do promote your gigs through every means you can find, not just through Facebook. Putting on a gig and then just creating a Facebook event is not promoting. It’s showing you know the very basics about using Facebook. Put up posters, leave flyers around in other venues, cafes, phone boxes or give them out on the street. Get in touch with local radio and give free tickets as prizes. Talk to the local paper. Get them on your side and they can be a great ally. Get in touch with Groupon or sites like that and promote through special offer deals.
8. Don’t send messages to performers asking them to “bring all your friends” to the gig, especially if the performer has been doing it for a while. It’s unprofessional and makes you look like an amateur. It’s not the performer’s responsibility to get you an audience. It’s your gig. That’s your job. The performer will most likely share the event on social networks etc but don’t expect them to bring a huge crowd of mates. This may well be their third gig of the week and their friends are not going to come to every gig or in fact any gig. Their friends wouldn’t ask them to come and watch them at work all the time would they?
9. Do treat every performer you book with respect, regardless of how long they’d been performing. If it’s their first gig, give them encouragement. You never know, they may be a huge comedy star in 2 year’s time. If you treat them like dirt, they won’t want to come back to do your gig as a “special surprise guest we can’t name” in the future. Without performers, you don’t have a gig so don’t be a dick to them. Unless they’re being dick, in which case, don’t book them again.
10. Don’t just run a few gigs and then cancel the whole thing because you have a poor showing one night. Gigs take time to become established and gain a reputation. They take hard work and effort to make a success. This won’t happen overnight. Stick with it, unless you’re doing it for all the reasons in point (4) in which case you won’t.
11. Do make sure you pay all the people you’ve said you would. If you’ve set a fee for the MC and the Headliner (or any other performers), make sure you pay them that fee, even if there’s not a good crowd. It’s your gig. You must take the losses. Hopefully they will be offset by the gains you make on other nights. If you don’t pay a performer the full amount owed on the night, you can be sure that every comedian in the country will have heard by the morning. The comedy community is very small. People will be very wary of doing any paid work for you in the future.
12. Don’t get an air of superiority once you start to run gigs. It’s true that there are more comedians than gigs at the moment and performers will be asking you for gigs constantly. This will give you a little bit of power. Try not to abuse it and not to lord it over other performers. Remember, chances are that your gig won’t be a long term success and you’ll want gigs from other performers when they inevitably set-up their own.

Are you a comedian based in Ireland? Is your relationship about to break up because you’re needy and filled with self-doubt? Do you often feel the need to discuss your gigs and comedy routines with your spouse or partner, whether they want to hear about it or not?

Rhapsody Tea – Comedy Escort can help. I offer a discreet girlfriend/spouse experience. I’ll listen to you all night long. Did that big bad heckler ruin your night? Well I have just the comeback for you. I just love to sit and analyse your new material with you. I’ll tell you what bits worked and what bits didn’t. I’ll make sure you rock the room and never have a weak ending. If you’ve just died on your arse, I’ll be ready, willing and able to agree with all your excuses. Did that other comedian just slight you? Well he’s a no good hack anyways.

Rates are €100 per hour or €300 for a whole routine and the awkward car journey home.

Specialties include*
Microphone Discipline
Comebacks
Puns

*Extras must be negotiated in advance.

I cater to comedians of all styles. From Open Mics to Headliners. For personal reasons I don’t do MCs so please don’t ask.

So, are you funny enough for me? Check out my reviews on Chortle. Discretion Guaranteed.