Wibbley Wobbley Wednesday
Yesterday, I had another audition, in London. This time, it was for a new quiz show. As per usual, I missed the train I had intended to take. Arriving at the station for the next train, with about ten minutes to spare, I found this long queue (line for American readers) for the ticket window. There was only one guy selling tickets and the line moved extremely slowly. When the train was due to arrive in only five minutes, I was still a half a dozen people away from the window. I wanted to pay for my ticket with my card, but I couldn't risk missing this train, or I would be late. I decided to abandon the line and use the last of my cash to buy my ticket from the automated vending machine, outside.
When I got outside, a woman had the same idea. She was fumbling with the ticket machine and couldn't seem to get it to work. Come on! Finally, she gave up, gave me a sheepish look, and moved out of the way. The machine had a sign on it that clearly said the maximum change it would give was £9 something. She had been putting in a £20 note, which would have required over £10 change. That's why it wouldn't work for her. I explained that to her, as I purchased my ticket/Travelcard. I made my train and I could replenish my cash from an ATM, later.
For once, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. I was soon joined by a very hot looking, Asian woman. There was a sign on the door that said that if one arrived early, to wait downstairs, as the previous group's audition would be in progress upstairs. Despite this sign, Asian hottie wanted to go upstairs and "check." Check what? I let her carry on, while I waited downstairs. Why walk up a flight of stars, just to be sent back down? I am way too lazy for that. Sure enough, in a couple of minutes, she was clomping back downstairs, in her pointy, trendy pumps. She said there was a sign upstairs saying "do not enter." We waited outside and she turned out to be a chatterbox. As she was prattling on about herself, I heard her mention that she was married. My interest level plummeted. Still, she was beautiful and interjecting sarcastic comments helped me to pass the time.
Soon, it was time to go in and we joined a number of other hopefuls. The production company really splashed out and treated us all to free glasses of water. Thankfully, I had managed to have some breakie before I left home. We were divided into teams of two, to play a simulation of a round of the game show. I was teamed up with the Asian hottie, who was clearly the most beautiful one there. She seemed pleased by this, as she figured my general knowledge level was good. I asked her if she had any single sisters and she said yes. Maybe something could be salvaged from this relationship, after all. I answered four times as many questions as she did and definitely carried the team. Afterwards, joinedind a couple of others outside, discussing the audition. Asian hottie turned out to live near me, in the Royal County of Berkshire and had taken the train in, as I had. She stated she was going to do some shopping, while in London, to pass the rest of the day and I hoped she would invite me to join her. No such luck. Now that the audition was over, she seemed like she had no use for me. I reminded her about fixing me up with a sister, but she merely quipped, "if we get selected for the show, I will." She didn't even exchange numbers. I felt so used.
I had managed to strike up a conversation with another good looking woman, a gal from some Congo or the other, who spoke with a beautiful French accent. When all the others had gone, she offered to walk with me, to the Underground station. She was looking for a bus stop and I ended up walking with her across the West End. I hoped she would want to keep in touch, but when we got to her bus stop, she just said goodbye. I had told Tom, the Injured Cyclist (http://www.myspace.com/tomamoslondon), that I would visit him, after my audition. I called him to confirm that visiting was still ok. After saying it was, he asked me to stop at Tesco for him. It's hard to say no to a guy on crutches and I just hoped I could find the Tesco near him.
For ages, I have been considering trying my hand at doing stand up comedy. While planning my trip to London, I searched on the internet for venues offering open mic comedy on Wednesdays, in London. Low and behold, the first thing that came up was The Wibbley Wobbley Boat, in Surrey Quays, which is minutes from Tom's flat. When I asked Tom if he was familiar with it, he said it was the same pub, on a boat, that he had suggested we go to, the last time I visited him. When I called, I was told the show starts at 9PM. I spent the rest of the day relaxing with Tom, preparing myself for this new endeavor.
When we got there, I found the compere and told him I wanted to join the lineup. In some ways, I was in luck, because he hadn't publicized this week's show amongst the regular performers, so there were only four of us, in total. Some times, he has as many as 16 acts to sort out in the line up. He asked me how long I was able to do and I said, "as long as you like." He decided, as it was my first time, I would do five minutes. I was told I would go on third, after the mid-show break. I was pleased I wasn't first, so I could see how the others did. As the show went on, Tom started heckling the compere. Oh dear, that wouldn't help. I had hoped having Tom and his crutches there might garner me the sympathy vote, but at the rate he was going, I might do better to offer to break his other leg, to please the crowd.
Without telling me, the compere switched the order and made me last. When he introduced me, he said he'd decided to make me the headliner and could I do a longer set? I readily agreed, hungry for as much stage time as I could manage. For some strange reason, we weren't permitted to use the mic. Something to do with residential neighbors complaining about the noise. I was going to have to really try to project my normally laid back voice, just to be heard. It wasn't the walk in the park I had hoped for. I got some laughs, but not as many as I hoped for. At least I didn't get heckled or booed. I ended up doing about ten minutes. The compere said I did okay, that my first seven minutes were pretty good, but the end died off a bit. He invited me back another time. One of my fellow performers said the compere likes jokes more than the humorous, anecdotal stories I like to tell. I have gotten my feet wet, now, and will have to try to improve my stroke.
When I got outside, a woman had the same idea. She was fumbling with the ticket machine and couldn't seem to get it to work. Come on! Finally, she gave up, gave me a sheepish look, and moved out of the way. The machine had a sign on it that clearly said the maximum change it would give was £9 something. She had been putting in a £20 note, which would have required over £10 change. That's why it wouldn't work for her. I explained that to her, as I purchased my ticket/Travelcard. I made my train and I could replenish my cash from an ATM, later.
For once, I arrived with plenty of time to spare. I was soon joined by a very hot looking, Asian woman. There was a sign on the door that said that if one arrived early, to wait downstairs, as the previous group's audition would be in progress upstairs. Despite this sign, Asian hottie wanted to go upstairs and "check." Check what? I let her carry on, while I waited downstairs. Why walk up a flight of stars, just to be sent back down? I am way too lazy for that. Sure enough, in a couple of minutes, she was clomping back downstairs, in her pointy, trendy pumps. She said there was a sign upstairs saying "do not enter." We waited outside and she turned out to be a chatterbox. As she was prattling on about herself, I heard her mention that she was married. My interest level plummeted. Still, she was beautiful and interjecting sarcastic comments helped me to pass the time.
Soon, it was time to go in and we joined a number of other hopefuls. The production company really splashed out and treated us all to free glasses of water. Thankfully, I had managed to have some breakie before I left home. We were divided into teams of two, to play a simulation of a round of the game show. I was teamed up with the Asian hottie, who was clearly the most beautiful one there. She seemed pleased by this, as she figured my general knowledge level was good. I asked her if she had any single sisters and she said yes. Maybe something could be salvaged from this relationship, after all. I answered four times as many questions as she did and definitely carried the team. Afterwards, joinedind a couple of others outside, discussing the audition. Asian hottie turned out to live near me, in the Royal County of Berkshire and had taken the train in, as I had. She stated she was going to do some shopping, while in London, to pass the rest of the day and I hoped she would invite me to join her. No such luck. Now that the audition was over, she seemed like she had no use for me. I reminded her about fixing me up with a sister, but she merely quipped, "if we get selected for the show, I will." She didn't even exchange numbers. I felt so used.
I had managed to strike up a conversation with another good looking woman, a gal from some Congo or the other, who spoke with a beautiful French accent. When all the others had gone, she offered to walk with me, to the Underground station. She was looking for a bus stop and I ended up walking with her across the West End. I hoped she would want to keep in touch, but when we got to her bus stop, she just said goodbye. I had told Tom, the Injured Cyclist (http://www.myspace.com/tomamoslondon), that I would visit him, after my audition. I called him to confirm that visiting was still ok. After saying it was, he asked me to stop at Tesco for him. It's hard to say no to a guy on crutches and I just hoped I could find the Tesco near him.
For ages, I have been considering trying my hand at doing stand up comedy. While planning my trip to London, I searched on the internet for venues offering open mic comedy on Wednesdays, in London. Low and behold, the first thing that came up was The Wibbley Wobbley Boat, in Surrey Quays, which is minutes from Tom's flat. When I asked Tom if he was familiar with it, he said it was the same pub, on a boat, that he had suggested we go to, the last time I visited him. When I called, I was told the show starts at 9PM. I spent the rest of the day relaxing with Tom, preparing myself for this new endeavor.
When we got there, I found the compere and told him I wanted to join the lineup. In some ways, I was in luck, because he hadn't publicized this week's show amongst the regular performers, so there were only four of us, in total. Some times, he has as many as 16 acts to sort out in the line up. He asked me how long I was able to do and I said, "as long as you like." He decided, as it was my first time, I would do five minutes. I was told I would go on third, after the mid-show break. I was pleased I wasn't first, so I could see how the others did. As the show went on, Tom started heckling the compere. Oh dear, that wouldn't help. I had hoped having Tom and his crutches there might garner me the sympathy vote, but at the rate he was going, I might do better to offer to break his other leg, to please the crowd.
Without telling me, the compere switched the order and made me last. When he introduced me, he said he'd decided to make me the headliner and could I do a longer set? I readily agreed, hungry for as much stage time as I could manage. For some strange reason, we weren't permitted to use the mic. Something to do with residential neighbors complaining about the noise. I was going to have to really try to project my normally laid back voice, just to be heard. It wasn't the walk in the park I had hoped for. I got some laughs, but not as many as I hoped for. At least I didn't get heckled or booed. I ended up doing about ten minutes. The compere said I did okay, that my first seven minutes were pretty good, but the end died off a bit. He invited me back another time. One of my fellow performers said the compere likes jokes more than the humorous, anecdotal stories I like to tell. I have gotten my feet wet, now, and will have to try to improve my stroke.
posted by Joey B at 7:58 PM
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2 Comments:
Gee, Tom, you're not biased, are you? Who heckled me? Besides, after you heckled the compere and Pebbles, a bit, perhaps you shouldn't be crticizing hecklers. I think Pebbles was best. In any case, despite how the otehrs may have done, i didn't get as strong a responce as I would have liked. Ultimately, you only ever compete against yourself.
By the way, thanks for going along and supporting me, and thanks for the beer.
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