HeadSpill

The Manchester Comedy Festival kicks off this week and I’m not in it because I missed the deadline and didn’t get a venue for my show sorted. Event’s have a funny way of conspiring though, and as it happens the Literature festival runs on exactly the same dates, and I’m doing two things for that, and even have my face in the brochure for the Poetry Slam Final that I’m mc’ing at the Northern Pub. During the fest I’ll be compering a Doctor Who convention (see previous post) on Saturday and doing the late night Asylum next Wednesday. As well as that I’ve got a whole new night kicking off in November, ‘Northern Humour‘, a sunday new material/character/wacky stuff night in the Northern Pub which promises to be proper fun.

The fest appears to be a lot more low key than in previous years, which is a bit of a shame for something that really needs to be as in-yer-face as it possibly can. With no sponsership this year it’s hard to can as much exposure when all the work being done to promote it is more or less being donated by the organisers. Hopefully next year it will be bigger, but that’ll only happen if more people get behind it, promoters and comics alike.

On Sunday I was a guest on the new Andy Crane Radio show. He’s a lovely bloke, and I felt a warm glow of security sitting in his presence thinking back to watching childrens telly, and singing along at home to the opening credits of ‘Around the World with Will Fog’. I was 14. My nice bubble of security was quickly punctured when he then asked me about home life, my lovely girlfriend and if I was going to get married or not.
It’s not a touchy subject or anything, but I had a proper flap, and the whole thing became a bit surreal in my head for several moments.

I missed my mum’s birthday this weekend. I feel bad about that.

I’m writing my new show. I’ve been promising myself for years I’d go to Edinburgh and now have the venue, and more importantly the cash to do it. Even though I’m doing a free fringe show, after accomodation, advertising and expenses I’m probably looking at a couple of grand for the month of August. At the minute I only have about five to ten minutes, and two preview dates, but even now at the back end of Febuary I’m little excited. I don’t have any rose tinted visions, it will be work, and I intend to keep my mind clear of expectation…

My history of doing a show is as follows:
Manchester fest 2005 - no one came.
Leicester fest preview 2006 - technical problems halfway into show.
Manchester fest 2006 preview  @ Comedy Balloon - large Success
Manchester fest 2006 show @ Zumeba - A week before the festival the venue is sold and turned into a trendy wine bar.
Frog & Bucket Edinburgh Preview 2007 - Too much teching, not enough stand up. An attempt to do something different, but a bit of a failure. Plug pulled.

The new show is very personal. I was thinking about doing it a year or so ago, but felt it was biting off more than I could chew which in hindsight is ironic considering I went on to put together a show that was all interactive multimedia. What I probably meant was I was too afraid of looking at the history of my eczema condition for the pain it might cause, and then not be funny.

There’s lots of work to be done writing and research, but in the few gigs I’ve done, openly talking about eczema, it’s been quite a soul feeding excercise. So far so good.

I have just recovered from my worst eczema flare up in years. I’ve always had eczema, and the suffering of it lasted through most of my childhood, into my teens and through to my mid 20’s. It’s of the ‘atopic’ variety as well, not just the little itchy bit you get on your elbow every now and then, but the full blown all over cornflake bodysuit that when it flares up turns you into a big red grumpy monster that swells up and squirts blood and innocent passers by. Well maybe not that bad, but that’s how it felt to me as a kid, and my perception of myself varied wildly from one day to the next, affecting my confidence in much the same way. The world was a nice place one day, and could go f**k itself the next.

I hadn’t had a flare up in so long I’d forgotten how bad it could be, and this time it was compounded by a bout of ‘otitis externa’, an acute ear infection which feels like having a house brick nailed to the side your head. The flare up kicked in a couple of days into the ear infection, and not suspecting the infection as related, I ran the gamut of probable causes to track down the source of swelling and rampant itching. Diet and environment, every item of food and clothing scrutinised, everything that went in me, on me or through me was questioned, even my girlfriend. Yes, even my girlfriend, my flat, my washing machine, the ph neutrality of the  water in my area of Manchester, as once I’d eliminated my diet and washing powder as the usual suspects, the possiblities of cause suddenly became broader and vaguer.

As the days passed the condition worsened to the point where the entre back of my head and shoulders were a red raw mess. Quick eczema test. lick the back of your hand, now blow on it. Imagine the areas of the body I’ve just mentioned being that sensitive all the time. Now fill your mouth with sherbert (No don’t do that ). So many things had changed in my life in such a short space of time that in looking for the cause I started to consider possible pschological triggers, having experienced first hand how things like stress can have a big effect over your physical well being. And so I found myself lying on the floor in lounge at three in the morning having washed my weeping, stinging head for the second time that night, thinking big dark thoughts. Was living together not working? Was there somthing wrong with the new flat? Was the change from living alone to living together too acute? Was I agreeing to things I didn’t want? I didn’t think so, but in light of no other causes, it was hard not to speculate on the negatives.

‘Go to the doctors’. Yes. Been there. Done that. It’s all too easy to sit winge about ailmments, then wine about the NHS and never get off your arse and do anything about getting seen by your GP because it’ll ages. I went to my local walk-in centre when my ears became unbearable, I waited an hour and the only thing that couldn’t be seen were my eardrums, due to too much swelling. Nurse Danny noticed my eczema too when I brought it up, but still no mention of the two being connected. We played eczema medication pokemon, I won. I have them all.

Eczema is a condition, not a disease so there isn’t a cure as such, and it doesn’t really lend itself to the kind of sexy marketing campaigns to raise awareness and donations that more popular ills like HIV aids or cancer do. Hence there’s not a lot public familiarity with it, depite it being quite common.  Also Eczema isn’t fatal, but there have been a number of cases where the associated depression has lead to suicide, but thats a minority. I got depressed as a kid, but never that bad.

It was only when I came back two days later and he could have a proper look, sans swell, that he saw what he  thought was ‘Otitis Externa’ a particular type of infection that could well have aggrevated the  surrounding skin to the point of dermageddon, I got refered to a doctor, he gave me pills, and over the next couple of days I recovered and got some sleep. Now I am better. Hurray!.

I knew this would slip. What has happened since?. Did my show at the Frog and Bucket, could have been better, did a weekend at the Stand in Glasgow, glorious, compared in Ormskirk, nice, and was a dead body in a film Bron is directing, weird.

Today is comic relief day, and there is a 24 hour gig happening at the Opus lounge in town as I speak. Bron’s comedysportz is on at 6pm, I’m on at 8pm, and then I’m going to get drunk in a good cause till midnight. Hurray.

I’m still concious of my blog turning into some personnel verbwhore session. As I was told recently doing a ‘harold’ in a longform improvisional workshop by a lovely Australian girl “it’s not all about you”. I was talking about big hair.

I like improvised comedy. I like how unpredictable it is, when it’s funny it’s genuinely funny. Of course, It helps if the person doing it is funny to start with. You can teach people good improv skills, you can’t teach ‘em how to be funny.

As you’re pulling stuff out of your head on the fly it can somtimes be the case that you’re channeling you’re own subconcious, as in the conversation about big hair where I almost said that I grew my own hair ‘big’ to compensate for my short stature. God I hope not. Having said that it could be a lot worse when you’re working in a group comprising of your new girlfriend, her ex and a girl you had fling with and still feel guilty about. But then, “it’s not all about me”. Good.