Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #25
Previously on Rob Gilroy’s Giggle Beats column: EMOTIVE MUSIC “I’m having niggling doubts about my comedy writing skills” DRAMATIC BEAT OF A DRUM “some new material worked a bit, but not loads” ANOTHER DRUM BEAT, JUST AS DRAMATIC “I’m going to try stand up as myself!” FADE TO BLACK.
That was my attempt at doing a TV catch-up clip like they do at the beginning of American shows, such as 24 and Everybody Loves Raymond. Did it draw you in? I hope so, it took me all day to come up with that.
The reason for this reminder is that this week’s episode, I mean edition, follows on from last week’s. Cast your minds back dear reader (or just look a few lines above) to the moment I drastically announced that I would be trying stand up as myself.
Like a gay person climbing out of a metaphorical cupboard, or a literal one, if they felt that would hit the point home a bit clearer, I stated my desire to branch out into straight stand up.
None of this character-comedy, putting on a daft voice, getting changed in a toilet cubicle while standing on my shoes-malarkey. No, this time I will would write some material, as myself, and perform it, as myself. Or at least in a daft voice a bit similar to mine.
But why?
Well, partly in an attempt to discover who I am (me), what my name is (Rob), and what makes me laugh (the word ‘poo’). But also partly so I don’t have to stand at the back of a club, practising a Bristolian accent while hurriedly doing up my flies.
I quite like the idea of going on stage as me. No character, no costume, no fake voice. Just me – naked. Not literally. I only do that for private functions, Bar Mitzvahs and bingo nights. I like the idea of doing stand up as myself, however the major flaw is – I don’t know who myself is.
That might sound odd, even a bit Alzheimers-y, but it’s true; I don’t really know who I am. Obviously, I do know who I am. I’m on first name terms with myself. I could pick me out of a line up. Well, maybe not, but that’s more down to reasons of practicality, rather than a loss of identity.
I’ve been doing character comedy now for about three years and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s far easier not to be me, than to be me. Especially if I am in a police line up. It’s always best to try deflecting the attention on to one of the others. “*cough* number 4 *cough*” – that sort of thing.
When I come up with a new character, it’s often a case of working out who they are – what their name is, what they do and what their view of the world is. That’s pretty straight forward when you’ve got a bit of a handle on the sort of person they are.
A protest singer – a bit earnest, a security guard – pompous and tense, Rob Gilroy – I haven’t the foggiest! I’ve spent so long working out who pretend people are, I’ve forgotten who I am. I hear puppeteers have that same problem. They spend so long putting words into a piece of wood or felt, that they stop having conversations with real people, unless their hand is firmly lodged up someone else’s back regions.
The first real step in correcting this is; booking a gig to try out this new and, frankly, dubious material. I’ve done it. I’ve booked a gig, not too soon, but not too far away either. This way I have some time to prepare but not enough time to put it off forever.
I won’t tell you where or when the gig is; it doesn’t seem right. I don’t believe the Christians invited their mates to the colosseum when they were being mauled by lions. It’s booked and it’s looming, the only thing to do now is write it. How hard can it be? (SPOILER) Very.
I need to crack this though. I need to work out who I am and what I want to say. It isn’t going to be easy, because I lose confidence when talking to automated booking machines, but I will do it.
I have to do it. For me. Whoever that is.
