Category Archives: Woodlands Road

Malky’s Leaving Night, Pop-Up Comedy, 17th December 2013.

After five years of promoting his signature gig, Malky decided to hand the bulk of duty over to his regular compere, Chris Henry.

I have been attending gigs at The Halt for three of those years, and have seen it go from strength to strength. Dozens of other gigs have sprung up and died by the wayside, including nights Malky himself ran in other venues, and so it is something of an achievement that the weekly free Tuesday night event continues to pack out this west-end bar. Whatever your opinion of the man, or of the reputation his stage persona has, he managed to consistently find an audience and keep them coming back regularly.

Although I have been absent from the scene for months, through comedy fatigue and a loss of love for performing, it very quickly popped into my head that perhaps I should try and write Malky some kind of send-off poem. The precedent had been set when Chris himself left, bound for London to pursue his career. No sooner had the thought hit, than rhymes and couplets suggested themselves. There was such an abundance of ideas that eventually I sat down and wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Three hours, two pages, and ten verses later, the first draft was complete. The second draft was mostly restructuring, making edits and choosing the best order for the verses to flow, and I contacted Chris to arrange things.

The first section would be a normal gig, a series of open spots performing material. Then there would be an awards section which, despite my reservations, was comparatively entertaining to witness. Finally, Chris would get Malky on stage in the third section, present an award to him, and hand over for his headline spot. I would be introduced to the stage just prior to Malky’s act, and I spent much of the evening – when questioned by friends and fellow comedians – lying through my teeth about having nothing planned. In total I confided in two, or at most three, people. The following, therefore, came as a surprise to almost everybody.

“The Malky Way.”

We’re gathered here tonight to say
Farewell to Malky, who’s on his way.
I’ve watched him gig two-hundred times,
And never seen him commit any of those crimes.
(So he’s clandestine.)
(Like a Lostprophet.)

I asked him why he’s leaving, folks.
He says work has left no time for writing jokes.
That left me buckled on the floor –
It’s never stopped the cunt before!

He’s promoted gigs near and far –
We’ve played the Bier Halle, and The Vicky Bar.
Buff Club too, and you cannot fault
The effort that man’s put in to making The Halt.

He’s been very fair, given everyone a shot.
He let Hobbit compere, and that says a lot.
He let new acts practice, he gave them the floor;
Some who got good now refuse to walk through that door.

Always on first, weekly, after the break,
He’ll do one joke, and a news stock-take.
You could never truly call him bitter,
For he delights in saying he’s been blocked on Twitter.

Whenever he compered, don’t be fooled –
As a warm-up man, he left the room cooled.
Amazingly, for all the deathly silence,
There were precious few gigs ended in violence.
(One or two.)

He took all our abuse with only good grace,
He’s been a great friend and a familiar face.
It’s gonna be weird when he’s not here –
But at least the girls can drink without fear.
(Unless Chris steps in.)
(Which is a possibility.)

Malky’s one of those old-fashioned guys.
Rohypnol? No, hoods and cable ties.
The infamous mating-call of that man
Was “Just eat the sweets, and get in the van.”

I say that he’s funny and, seriously, though,
He gets lots of laughs when he’s not here in Glasgow.
I’ve seen him do well in various places –
He’s not allowed back, but he did crack their faces.
([a smile])

But will the acts who now open our second half
Tread in his footsteps, and not get a laugh?
Perhaps in the New Year we’ll all get a shot
At killing the room in the famed “Malky spot.”

This heartfelt character assassination
Is in fact a celebration.
He’s given humour to the masses
And so I ask, please raise your glasses.
(To Malky.)

I think his girlfriend recorded my recital on her phone, but whether the video is any good or – crucially – the audio coherent, I don’t know.

Pop-Up Comedy continues to run every Tuesday night, featuring new acts and an experienced headliner weekly. You can check line-ups on the Facebook page, or continue to troll Malky on Twitter.


Gig 97: The Halt Bar (Friday Show)

The Halt management decided to start a comedy night on Fridays, without (as I understand it) committing a budget to book the calibre of act who can attract, control, or hold a Friday night audience.

Malky is an experienced promoter, and I do not wish to do him down by speaking badly of this gig. The first of anything is usually questionable, that is how we learn – by doing, failing, doing again, failing again but failing better. There’s a reason it’s called a Learning Curve.

There were six open spots on, five of them were shite. I include myself in that. Booked on the strength of recent gigs, most of the acts deviated from the tried, tested material and did new stuff. Almost all of us over-ran. I did the second part of my “Fuck The Tories” material, which I had begun at my last Tuesday gig, and found it to be less funny than intended and more political than the audience wanted.

After a long and painful couple of sections, during which (unbelievably) none of the audience left, it was time for the headliner. Malky called him to the stage, discovering that he was not in the room. If it is near your stage time, you are closing a gig, and you are not in the room at the time, then you are not a professional. As there was already a guitar set up for the closer, I was prejudiced anyway against watching him.

A girl left the room, Malky presuming that she had gone to find him. She returned alone. Asked if she had seen him, she informed us that “He’s outside smoking, chatting to some lassie about how he’s on stage soon.”

That was my cue to leave – it had been a long night, most acts died, and now this guy was nowhere to be seen but did have a guitar waiting for him. Not for me. I left.

I heard later that he, too, deviated from the set that had got him this booking, too drunk to make sense and too reliant on his Irish accent to coast him through a lack of material.

I am not sure if the Friday night gigs are still running, and I kind of hope not – as Malky was already aware, you need a budget to book acts on a Friday. It’s very different to a Tuesday night new-act crowd. maybe if the bar plough some money in and give it six months, it will fly. Personally, I don’t see that kind of investment coming from them.

Whereas the Tuesday night shows are going from strength to strength.


Gig 95: The Halt Bar, 7th May 2013

I did what I often do – spent weeks thinking about what material to do at a far-off gig, and then spent the whole afternoon hurriedly writing it. This was made easier, in some ways, on this occasion, as everything I wanted to do is based in fact. Facts by themselves are not funny, however, and so I endeavoured to write frequent, regular punchlines to go with them.

I knew that I wanted to try and be more political, not least because I have recently taken to protesting against the increasingly-unworkable policies of the Tories. Based on the eight articles I have written over on my other (and now preferred) blog, Embrace The Absurdity, I sat and wrote nine pages of story and jokes. Then I went to the library, printed them off, and jumped a bus to the gig.

I was down for five minutes, and had been hoping to extend that to ten. Even ten wasn’t going to be long enough to cover everything, I quickly realised. The bill was particularly full, a great line-up of reliable acts (ones who can especially be replied upon to turn up too), and so there was very little room for maneouvre. Chris Henry, compering to a reserved crowd, agreed to give me what leeway he could. He allowed me seven minutes, and even speaking as fast as I did and wrapping up as soon as I saw the light, I still managed to overrun.

As I said later, I didn’t run out of time so much as just used my time less well than I should have. However, for a first outing, I am happy with it. It is just unfortunate that the really funny stuff is in the second half of this routine, and I don’t think I got as far as the halfway mark.

It was summer this day, Glasgow’s one and so far only day of warm sunshine this year. As a result, the dark bar was quieter than usual while the local park and beer gardens flourished. It felt like the audience didn’t really wake up until the second section, and while I drew some laughter I also had a fair few silences where I had anticipated a reaction. After further testing, I may look at cutting swathes of it in order to get to my points faster, allowing me to move onto the latter part which  feel is funnier.

As it stands, I think this could easily fill twenty minutes, or at least fifteen – but that is an amount of time not available to me, and so I will have to do (and hone) each of about five different stories in turn. It will then be ready to combine and hopefully have my first twenty done. It probably lends itself more to spoken word than stand-up nights, so I might have a look and see if there is anyone willing to let me try that out. Otherwise, maybe I will finally have something I am willing to punt as my first solo (or maybe joint) show at next year’s Comedy Festival. Time will tell.

In the meantime, here is the very first outing of my all-new material. With some laughs, a couple of jokes incorporated from my previous sets, and a wee bit of laughter too.

 


How and Why I Got Up There.

It was a long time coming.

I realised earlier this year that one of the few things I know about myself, absolutely, is that I can make people laugh. Friends, family, work colleagues, acquaintances I’ve made in pubs, at gigs or on various shoots – ever since I was at school people have told me I’m funny. So I figured, in my unemployment and torturously bored, that I owed it to myself to find out if I could also be funny on a stage, addressing a room full of strangers.

The idea was first mooted by an old flatmate about four years ago, when he toyed with doing the Red Raw beginners night at The Stand. I’d joked about doing it myself on and off since then. Having written a screenplay set in the world of stand-up (and soap operas and ‘celebrity’ obsession), and failed to sell it, I lengthened it into a 70,000-word novel which I’ve also failed to sell, despite good feedback from numerous sources (including one editor).

Having also written pantomimes of varying length and quality for twenty of my twenty-nine years, and sketches, lyrics, poetry, short stories too, I figured maybe it was time to get up and say the things I wanted to express which nobody was interested in reading. The Stand told me to apply in two months for a possible gig in five, such is the length of their waiting lists, and so I was instead directed to Malky and Pop-Up Comedy. He runs a newcomers night at The Halt Bar in Woodlands Road, and since (having finally decided to get up there) I didn’t want to wait five months, I approached him. He was able to give me a spot three weeks from the date of asking.

I went away and wrote a six-page routine and six pages of one-liners, knowing that was too much, and eventually had time in my five-minute spot to do about one, maybe one and a half pages. And got heckled most of the way through it by some chick who seemed to think she was helping…

I’ll write about that next.

Jordan.