Rob Gilroy: Making A Stand #6
Competitions, eh? Aren’t they brilliant? If you’re not winning £1.80 on a scratch card, you’re being shipped the entire contents of Bill Gates’ head by those utterly deluded people at Channel 5’s Gadget Show. Lord knows how they get that much stuff – I’m pretty sure Currys doesn’t have a ‘Whoospie’ section. So, it’s either eBay or they get staff discount because they still do weekends at PC World. Either way; everyone loves to win stuff. Look at Charlie Sheen – he believes he’s always winning, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, naming no names (Scary Movie 10).
I don’t win much. I’m not one of life’s winners. I wouldn’t say I’m one of life’s losers, though. I think we all know who they are – woodlice and people that wear espadrilles. I did once get a magazine to print an article I’d written but then it wasn’t really a ‘competition’ as such. I think Take a Break are always looking for kiss-and-tells, and to be honest the 50 quid I got for it just cheapened an otherwise heartbreaking story. I don’t shy away from entering things though; I’m always giving it a go. Most days I’ll enter those between-advert competitions that ITV run. You know the ones you see on This Morning and Loose Women – ‘In what order do the letters ABC go? Is it; A: ABC, B: BCA or C: CAB?’ They’re always pretty straight forward questions and more often than not they’re multiple choice, so at least I have a fighting chance. Whenever they pop up I send a quick submission – online, obviously. I don’t text in. I’m not falling for their games.
The reason I’m talking about competitions is because I have just taken part in two ‘new act’ competitions in as many weeks. For any maths’ fans out there, the ratio for that is 2:2. At least I think it is. That’s why I stopped putting bets on Countdown. That and the fact that I was the only one doing it. It’s not really a victory if you’re the only one in William Hill cheering. It’s even less of a victory if you’re the only one crying. But while I’m not a known winner I think I stand a fighting chance in a battle of the stand ups (it’s not really a battle; no blood is shed.) Now, I’ll be honest (SPOILER ALERT) I didn’t win either of those competitions, but then the fact I didn’t start this article with “I’VE ONLY BLOODY GONE AND WON IT, HAVEN’T I?” should have been a big clue.
For anyone who hasn’t been along to a comedy competiton; it’s a bit like the hit-film ‘8 Mile’ with Marshall Bruce Mathers III (M-in-M). Except instead of rapping; there’s jokes about men’s willies, and instead of raw, unbridled aggression; there’s jokes about men’s willies. In fact both of the competitions I’ve done have been inundated with jokes of the willy variety. But what can I say – it works for me. It’s a strange beast, the comedy competition. In some ways it’s the exact opposite of what a comedy night should be – anxious, tense, competitive. In other ways it can be a great motivator to up your game, as well as a good platform for getting noticed. I mainly do try and improve. If I want to get noticed I just walk into a Cath Kidson with a scythe shouting “I’ll give you bloody retro!” But up-my-game, these competitions certainly do.
Nothing scares you into trying to be funnier more than seeing someone else getting big laughs. Sometimes, I won’t lie; you do get that feeling of jealously that propels you to come out victorious, but more often than not it’s admiration at seeing others being brilliant that galvanises you into being as good as you can be. Some comics can be guilty of wishing others to do badly so that they can win – I find this a hideous way to think. Instead I like to pray that they fall down the starts while leaving the venue. That way they can still have a nice gig and hopefully you’ll be the first name on the subs list. A win is still a win even if the confirmation email does start with ‘Unfortunately…’
Let’s not beat around the bush – as it’s not good for you or the shrubbery – it can be soul destroying if you don’t get through. You’re putting your blood, sweat and Young Person’s Rail Card to the limit all for a five minute spot that could make or break you. No one likes to lose – unless it’s losing weight and even then gaining an extra hole on your belt is no substitute for making a half empty room of people in Didcot laugh a bit. The thing to take from it is; how can I improve my act? How can I tweak it to make it stronger right from the get go? And how can I find out when the last train leaving Wellingborough on a Thursday is? All important questions you need to ask yourself.
The trip back after a gig is always the difficult bit – if it went well you have to face the inevitable come down. If it went terribly you’ve got another three hours with nothing but yourself and Jancie Long on Radio 2 for company, going over every mistimed willy joke. I speak as a man of experience; as I type this I’m on my way back from an OK performance at one of those competitions. Use this time wisely. Work out why you won, what you did differently and how to try recreate something similar next time. If you fell on your arse; why? How can you stop this and save your arse from another pounding? It might not seem like much but it will be invaluable come the next time you enter a competition.
Meanwhile I’ll keep on trying too. But right at this moment I don’t feel too bad; my coach back has been upgraded to a Megabus Plus and I’ve got half a Yorkie Duo left in my bag. Me? I’m winning already.
