The magic of Television!
When I first saw this advertised, my heart sank. The start time of 6 p.m. on a Thursday made it impossible to go. Then, I realised that this was happening after I'd retired. Ha, a free comedy night in Paisley—what better way to celebrate not working.
We arrived early, grabbed a drink at the bar, and sat while the room got loud. Shortly before the hall doors were due to open, we removed ourselves to join the short queue in the corridor beside where two door staff had assembled. So far, so good.
We overheard the man on the door saying the people with special wristbands would get to go in first, but that didn't happen. The doors opened, and the queue filtered in. The room had been filled with round lounge tables, covered with black tablecloths, with a white spherical lamp in the centre. Massive cameras sat at the back, one loaded onto a track, with smaller ones at the sides. We sat at the nearest unreserved table, then were told by a lady in a red jacket that we couldn't sit there. We moved to the opposite side of the hall as more and more people poured in and sat at another unreserved table. Again, she told us to move as this one was reserved for her 'talent'. Talk about feeling unwelcome. A notice would have been nice. Finally, we snagged the last two seats at the table behind that before it filled up.
I had a camera behind me. The operator noticed the cable under my chair and requested I stand up so he could move it, thus preventing a potential disaster. With one flick of my foot, the show could have been over—or not.
The lady in the red jacket wasn't happy with the tall, bald man in a hoodie and his wife sitting at the middle front table. They were asked to move, replaced by a shorter young woman in dungarees and her friend. He wasn't amused, moaning to the people around that he wasn't good enough to be on the telly.
A focused crew member breezed over to adjust the chairs at the 'Talent Table' back onto their marks, as indicated by tiny strips of black tape on the floor. When the five people sat here, I didn't recognise any of them. They were a diverse group, all young. The first was a handsome chap with a full head of hair; the second was bearded with a manbag over his shoulder (a props comedian?). The third was tall and heavier with a mop of floppy hair, while the fourth was female with long blonde hair. The fifth was black with tied-up dreadlocks. I mention them all because it turned out none of them were the 'talent'. They were 'seat fillers'. In turn, they had to give up their seat after each competitor had performed.
The lady in red reappeared with a tube of clear plastic cups and went around swapping out the bright white paper cups that the bar had been supplying with hers. White cups were not appropriate for the telly, it seemed.
Gareth Mutch, a local comedian, appeared on stage. In addition to being the warm-up act, his other role was to fill in until the cameras were ready to roll, so he was often unsure how long he would be on stage. Instead of performing material, he asked people who they were with and how they met, digging for comedy gold but repeatedly coming up empty, which in itself became funny. The tall bald bloke previously at the front ensured he became part of the show by being the first and loudest to answer. It was just as well he got moved from the front.
Larry Dean was our host for the evening. He did some standup and then informed us that there were five acts competing tonight. He explained we should continue to clap between acts as he introduced them. JD, the scary floor manager, then told him to get off and brought Gareth back on to conduct the important business of training us as an audience. We had to practice loud cheering and applause, quiet applause without cheering, and general laughing.
Then, the recording began. Larry did a few minutes of comedy and then introduced the judges, Ashley Storrie, Gregor Sharp, and head judge Babatunde Aleshe. He then welcomed the first act, Craig Scott, from Glasgow. He did well as the opener. His scripted, deliberate delivery reminded me of Kevin Bridges.A confident start.
The second act was a Sri Lankan girl called Maddie Fernando (?). She didn't do quite as well, especially when she veered off script. I would say she's a work in progress. She also just happened to tick the BBC's diversity box.
The third, Jonathan Oldman, performing as an exaggerated, old-school American character act, blew onto the stage with the energy and clumsiness of a young Norman Wisdom. His gags and costume were offbeat. He used all the stage to complement his comedy tics and built a trio of gags into a wonderful punchline. I liked him best.
The fourth, Jojo Madily (not sure of the spelling), was a musical act who introduced herself as a child star from a tiny village. Her voice reminded me of Sarah Keyworth (but without the boyish looks and LBQT material). She used the C-word as a punchline in her first song, which was unexpected, given how she set up her character. (Accordingly, she had to replace this word during the pickups.)
The final act was another character act: Karismaa, the centre-of-attention young woman with long blonde hair in the £4 Vinted sequin dress who claimed to be an empath and was into Tarot cards. She reminded me visually of Roisin Conaty, but I couldn't warm to her act. Not that she wasn't funny, but it wasn't my kind of thing. She had the scary energy of a hen-do.
Then, there was an interval to allow the judges to deliberate.
Larry came back on, had some banter with the judges, and then JD informed him that there was a major fault. Queue a lengthy pad, where Larry entertained us. Someone must have remembered this was the job of the warm-up man because Gareth was sent back up onto the stage, where he died, only to be rescued by Ashley Storrie, who jumped into one of her routines about her family life. She didn't get to finish, though, as by then, they had fixed the fault.
Only they hadn't. Gareth, Ashley, and Larry all came back on to fill in until given the green light to restart the show. Eventually, Babatunde was allowed to announce the winner: Jonathan Oldman.
Then, the real fun began: the pickups.
Larry needed to redo a couple of sections. He didn't quite understand what he had to do, and the scary JD had to keep correcting him. In between, while the crew worked out what they needed, Larry got to play around on stage. His Kevin Bridges impression was spot on. We were also treated to a short burst of his Gollum. Then, a producer told the acts which sections of their sets they needed to redo, removing any strong swear words. They all found it challenging to pick up their routines at the requisite part, finding it especially difficult to find their earlier energy, knowing they had lost. Maddie made light of this during her stint, but that just meant she had to do it again properly.
As soon as JD called it a rap, the camera crews immediately started dismantling the equipment. It was amazing to see how fast they worked. I suppose they, too, wanted to go home. While this was going on, the acts were invited back onto the stage for the publicity shots.
I wasn't conscious of being filmed, but who knows? My miserable resting face may end up on the iPlayer.
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| The 'talent' table. |
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| The competitors and on-screen talent. |
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| The winner |
Ticket Price: Free.
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