A Facebook advert alerted me to this free BBC show, with tickets available via Eventbrite, rather than the BBC's official website. It wasn't even a lottery for tickets. You registered and ordered the number you wanted. This still didn't guarantee entry, however.
Last year, I attended the Scottish heat in Paisley Town Hall. They obviously wanted to go bigger this year, so they had booked the Barrowland. I imagined a packed, standing crowd of 1,900 comedy fans. The big time.
Bob (now forever known as The Bad Man) and I arrived early, long before the shutters had even been raised. I chatted to the bouncer, trying to establish the layout for the gig. He informed me they were not using the main stage but had erected a purpose-built platform and laid out tables and chairs. So not standing, then.
When we got in, we had to wait to be shown to our seats. The Bad Man allowed us to be seated at the front, much to my consternation. I warned him that he was taking any flak from the comedians, not me.
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| This is how close we are to the stage! |
Gareth Mutch was on warm-up duties again. He didn't pick on us, fortunately, and was a tad better than last year. One heckler threatened to stab him up the arse, an act never intended to involve a knife, which led to some confusion. We never got to the bottom of it (boom, boom). You've got to love Glasgow's East End.
Christopher Macarthur-Boyd hosted and was a revelation. Boy, has he grown up. I don't mean physically. He still looks like he buys his shoes from the kids' section in Clarks, but his style, delivery and demeanour have matured into those of a fine comedian.
The judges were Daniel Foxx and Susie McCabe, with Fatiha El-Ghorri as head judge. Christopher made reference to Daniel's bright ORANGE trainers and BLUE notebook, suggesting that Daniel might have missed the memo about the event's location. The banter between Christopher and the judges had to be redone as a pick-up at the end, much to Fatiha's mock annoyance, bruv.
The five acts were all different: Ayo Adenekan, a tall, black, bisexual man from Edinburgh, did the same act that he performed at the GICF Gala last year. Forgive me, but I can't remember the other acts' names. One was a gay dude from Castlemilk (his material was great, including one gag about his junkie parents being drug-free for over six years now, may they rest in peace). The female comic was high-energy, with a touch of Catherine Tate and Harry Hill about her. This was when my nightmare began. Her eyes were drawn to me during a bit about the size of her breasts. I was picked on to maintain eye contact while she discussed what happens to them when she lies down, expressing in glorious detail how she needs to scoop them up when they splay across her front. I felt my face glowing red.
The second-to-last act was a low-energy oddball, who made long grrrr noises as a run-up to his next line. He had to repeat some of his routine in the pickups, which he found awkward as they'd taken away his Terry Nutkins photo, presumably because they didn't have permission to use it.
And finally, on came the musical act with his guitar, after a false start because the instrument wasn't properly miked. On take two, he draws me into his conversation, asking what I had dreamed of becoming as a child, and then whether that dream came true. Cue a song, not involving anything I had said. Later, he asked what my name was and what I found most attractive about him. Cue awkward moment when my mind went blank. I stuttered, "Your height?" to which he took mock offence, before singing a song about his attractiveness, incorporating my suggestion dismissively.
During the interval, when the judges went off to deliberate their choice, two BBC officials descended on our table, presenting me with a release contract giving them permission to use me in the programme. Bad Man found this hilarious.
I filled it in, signed it, and then stewed over all the better replies I could have given. I was also approached by a comedy fan who tried to persuade me to attend a show at Oran Mor, handing me a flyer, suggesting that the ticket price could be reduced by using his name as a discount code. He was from Paisley too, but seemed out of his depth when I started discussing the Edinburgh Fringe shows I'd enjoyed. Strike one for comedy nerddom.
After the interval, the judges announced the winner, not surprisingly, selecting Ayo Adenekan. He was the one I would have picked, too.
Then, there were the pickups, with Gareth having to remind the audience not to leave their seats, as the show was not yet finished. We got away just after 9pm.
I still felt harried on the drive home, realising my ugly mug will end up on the iPlayer later this year. The BBC must have needed to tick off a few diversity boxes, such as old, straight, bald, fat, white and male. We're an underrepresented minority these days.
Ticket Price: Free.
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