Hello everyone and welcome to the book version of my 2012 Edinburgh Festival Fringe show, Sex, Drugs and Marriage, which I performed at ‘The Newsroom’ bar.
It’s an absolute pleasure to have you here, it really is. I’m absolutely delighted, mainly because just by you reading this is almost as many people as I had for the whole of 2010’s show, Ordinary Punter.
That wasn’t much fun, I was starting to think I was a leper.
Then I realised the real problem was my venue, The Argyle Bar, which was in the middle of what I referred to as, ‘The Edinburgh Triangle’, as everyone who said they were coming, apparently disappeared into hyperspace.
The bar was on the other side of the Edinburgh Meadows ….. heading towards Denmark.
I had more policemen turn up at my gig than punters, as they were looking for missing persons, “Have you seen Joe Blogs or Mrs Smith? They were last seen on the way to your gig. Did you kill them?”
No, I didn’t, but I wish I had as at least then I might have had an audience, albeit one full of corpses.
I believe the idea is to ‘kill the audience’ when they are there, not as a way to get them there, but at the end of the day, bums on seats is the desired outcome and most Ed Fringe performers don’t care how that is achieved.
I should maybe consider the murdering option because as far as flyering goes, people want to avoid me like I am a Jesus junkie handing out invites to a Jehovah Witness retreat in Gaza.
Some of the other comedians would tell me what you need to do, to get people into your show.
As the potential audience member is walking down the street, you politely stand in front of them, grab them by the neck, pin them up against a wall, pull a gun out, put it to their head and scream, ‘You will come to see my show, or else I will hunt you down, bend you over and shove this pistol so far up your arse, you will think it’s Mons Meg!’
Apparently, that gets people into your show, but I think that’s going a bit too far. I guess I’m just not as pushy as they are.
I don’t even like to push my cock up an asshole. Well, unless the woman particularly wants it, then I’m all in.
In life I tend to just chill out and go with the flow, so I guess that’s why I didn’t bother checking the map to see where my fucking venue was located. If I’d noticed it was closer to Copenhagen than the Royal Mile, I’d have probably avoided it myself.
– Cheers!
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