Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #14
D’you know what I get a lot? Well, if we’re being honest (and we are) there are a lot of things I get a lot – asthma, intermittent phone signal, credit card applications I’ll never be eligible for, direct messages on Twitter that turn out to be nonsense spam, indigestion, sever bouts of road rage and my weekly copy of Heat magazine. But I’m not talking about any of those things; I’m talking about something in particular. Something I seem to get every time I meet somebody new.
Yes, you’re right; I can get crippling social awkwardness, especially if they ask the dreaded question – “Who do you support?” I’m guessing they mean in a sporting sense, as opposed to showing concern for anyone that is dependent on me. It still seems to be the perceived norm that being male means a love of football. I can’t stand it.
Never have, with the possible exception of when I used to go as a six year old, and even then it was for the half time pies. I have come to terms with the fact I’m ‘not a proper boy’ and am technically dead to my father. But still, that’s not it.
What I do get a lot, especially when I meet new people, is the phrase – “I would never have guessed you do stand up comedy!” Closely followed by “I just can’t picture you doing it.” I get this almost every time I venture out into the wider world.
That’s why I’ve gone back to MSN Messenger, they’ve always been the golden years, conversation-wise.
I don’t know what to make of those statements and it’s even harder to respond to them when they are spouted at you over vol-au-vants and Martinis. They would ‘never have guessed I did stand up comedy’? I wasn’t aware we were playing a live-action version of ‘Guess Who’, hence why I never deduced that they were civil engineers, or head of IT for McVities biscuits, or a tramp.
If I had known it was part of the social norm to guess what people do, I would have walked into that room with a list of job descriptions and then started ticking people off according to their facial features. “Right; marine biologist – glasses; no, you lot can sit down. Hats; no, not practical when under water, sorry you three. A big ginger beard – could get caught up in coral, sorry ‘Geoff’. Oxygen tank and goggles – jackpot! Please to meet you, Pam.”
How would they have guessed I was a stand up comic? I may take too long when beautifying myself before a party but it’s not like I bring my own P.A system and only appear in front of spot-lit, bare brick walls. Neither do I break out into ‘routines’ during conversation.
Sure, I have the odd devastating anecdote about the time I tried to return a tin of trade white paint but I don’t start it by saying; “Who here’s been to Homebase?” Neither do I lean on stand lamps whilst I collect my thoughts, then walk over to the corner of the room to sip from an Evian bottle.
Nothing about me screams ‘comedian’. That is, of course, until the real insecurities sink in, then I’m whipping out the checked shirts and announcing my arrival in a room with the line “I know what you’re all thinking…”
“I just can’t picture you doing it!” That’s an odd one. Why would you picture me doing it? Why would you picture me doing anything; unless, of course, you’re trying to piece together my whereabouts on the night of an alleged crime? And in any case I never went anywhere near that laundrette and where on earth would I get hold lawn darts? If truth be told; I can understand what people mean when they say they can’t picture me doing stand up, it is difficult. You can’t really picture anyone doing stand up, unless you’ve already seen them at it. Mother Teresa, for example – I’m sure she had a wicked arsenal of one liners but until we’ve seen her treading the boards of the Laughter Lounge, Nantwich, it’s really quite hard to get the visual for it.
My concern isn’t that people can’t picture me doing it, like a psychic who’s unable to read my future because they’ve realised I die in October 2016 in a freak juggling accident, it’s that I feel that maybe I should be doing something to rectify this. Should I be the loudest, and funniest, person in a room? I suppose it depends which room – I’m all for holding court during a party, but in an operating theatre it just seems tasteless. I guess I could be the sort of person who’s always cracking zingers left right and centre, but I’d find it tiring.
The centre of attention is not something I strive to be, at least, not when I’m offstage. I’m quite happy plodding along being inconspicuous, the Clark Kent to my prat-falling Superman (note to self: pitch this to Man of Steel producers, I think they may need it!)
That said, I used to aim to be just that – Mr. Jokes-a-lot. I didn’t refer to myself that way, obviously; I’m not a saddo. When I was younger, in primary school, I spent a lot of time acting out and showing off, much to the delight of the rest of the class – “One to watch!” (Miss. Clegg, year 4 teacher). But as I’ve matured like a lump of cheddar in the back of the vegetable drawer, I find that I can’t make my mind up as to who I want to be.
Sometimes I am loud and verbose and devastatingly funny, even if I do say so myself – “Utterly Brilliant” (Rob Gilroy, me) – but other times I prefer to be a bit more subdued and keep myself to myself. I can never get this balance right; I always feel as though I should be behaving one way, when I’m acting the other. I’m playing Russian roulette with my personality and constantly blowing my brains out (metaphor).
I guess, like global warming & last week’s Countdown conundrum, I’ll never have a solution to this problem. I’ll just keep trying to be myself and hope that it won’t matter that I’m not radiating comedy from every pore or that I’m the annoying moron who keeps making dubious jokes about Guess Who. If people can’t accept me as how I am, then I’ll just have to keep adapting until they’re happy. Besides, if all else fails; I’d be quite happy as Colonel Mustard – oh, that’s Cludo. Damn!
Rob will be appearing as Jerry Bucham at Seymour’s Gang and Gavin Webster’s Northumbrian Assembly on Sunday 7 July at The Stand, Newcastle. He will also be appearing at The Stand’s weekend shows on 11, 12 & 13 July.
