Fringe Day 8: Super Friends


Yesterday me and Keith high fived at exactly the same time as Paul B and Mickey high fived. This is incredible because a) Paul B can’t high five, b) it was not planned in anyway and c) somehow no one else saw. Keith says we are not super friends till we can all do an instinctive four way high five. I worry this would result in everyone watching and deciding we are not cool, but infact just girl guides. Its not the same.


There are certain reasons why an audience of kids is better than an audience of adults. One of these, is that no matter where you go, you will never get an adult audience where one of them insists they are called ‘Ben 10’, whilst wearing a cape and pretending to explode every few minutes. This tiny 4 year old boy, who’s name he revealed as Andrew before deciding it was definitely Ben 10, would start a countdown before making tiny high pitched fact noises that meant he was exploding. I genuinely have never been quite so pleased with an audience member before. I am currently wondering on the implications of asking his mum if he can just sit in the corner of my evening show and explode every few minutes. I think I might be constantly upstaged but it’d be totally worth it.


Best audience yet. Big laughs, some well timed groans and generally bloody good. Even two people walking out before the show even started couldn’t falter them. (They were in the wrong show, not just horrendously put off by the wrong ambiance).

5 stars. Savvy, attentive, warm. They managed to display all the top qualities of punters whilst never dipping in quality or their attempts appearing forced. Superb.


Scores so far:

Me – 1
Paul – 1
Draw – 1

To be continued….


My throat is twingy today. Twingy is not the fringe on Twitter. Its starting to get sore and this is the opposite of cool. Which I suppose would be hot. But its not that either. Its just pants. I had meant to go booze free yesterday but then had two pints. Two pints, in the scheme of things, is technically no booze. My throat however has disagreed and is threatening a Tom Waits style protest at me. This I fear would make my show creepier than it should be, though at the same time compliment my surroundings of being in a damp dark cave. I might spend today writing stories about gruesome trucker tales and Brothers Grimm like yarns then drink all the booze I can and scare the crap out of tonight’s audience. Or not. Probably the latter.


I like noodles. FACT. I like them more when its been preceded by witnessing Danny and Eri aka Ginger and Black getting mobbed by tens of children as though they had been appraised for saving the youth centres in a 70’s drama. This is unlikely to happen everytime I eat noodles though which makes me worry I may start enjoying them less.