Family Affair

The other members of WMD wondered what it would take to force me out of cyber-hiding and finally write a blog post. It turns out what it took was for a family of three non-native English speakers being the only people who came to watch our show. This left us with few cultural reference points (they hadn't seen Lord Of The Rings) and no familiarity with common British phrases.

There were as many people in the crowd as there were performers on stage, something none of WMD had ever encountered before. A brief chat to our audience before the show made it clear that much of the material in our show wasn't going to work with this lovely, friendly family. There was no doubt about it, these three were definitely all older than the 16+ age rating we'd given ourselves, but that in itself wasn't justification enough to continue with the show as planned. Don't get me wrong, 'How To Be Awesome At Everything' is not a smut-fest, but it does contain some parts which a family could find uncomfortable. We've all been in a situation where we've been enjoying watching a film with our parents, having a laugh, a joke and a chat until suddenly a wild sex scene appears out of the long grass and you're left battling this beast with the moves, 'Stare at the Floor', 'Leave the room', 'Think Happy Thoughts' or 'Feign Death'. Now, I'm not saying that HTBAAE features a sex scene, and if it did I am certain it wouldn't be wild by any definition, but no part of WMD wanted to be held responsible for changing the way a parent thinks about their child forever. If he is caught off guard by a juvenile joke about willies, in his fathers eyes he is no longer the first class honours law graduate he was prior to the show, but is now instead an immature little boy who just backtracked eighteen years. Even though willies are definitely funny.

Perhaps there's an argument for saying that entering a comedy show as a family and expecting the acts to adapt to the situation on-the-fly is a bit like going into a bakery with a gluten allergy and demanding safe bread, but that kind of outlook simply isn't WMD's way.

The hour that followed has to be one of my favourite ever gigs, solo or otherwise, as we were forced to think fast and edit our gags and sketches as we went along. There were two definite highlights of this for me. Firstly, there was no greater joy than being backstage and listening to one of the other lads refer to people in their sets who were once 'mighty dickheads', or that had called them 'cunts', now being labelled as 'idiots' who called them 'trump-brains'. Secondly, due to the reams of material each act had cut completely, the show was going to run short. I'm the second act, and whilst I was on stage the other two guys decided that in order to fill our allotted time, we needed to make up a third sketch entirely on the spot, and that they would give me a leading role in it as soon as they came back on stage. Acting opposite either of the lads is a pleasure at any time, and in this scene about ways to be awesome at dating Ben was on stunning form.

Instructed by Tom playing the role of his unseen advisor, Ben was told to come up with a boast in order to impress the handsome partner on the date I was method acting as. When you work as closely with someone as WMD do with one another, often the ways they might react to certain things are predictable, which is why top improvisation groups are able to bounce off one another so effectively. Allow me to say this, what Ben came up with in order to impress my character was something I would confidently state no one would ever predict, as even Ben himself was laughing so hard prior to speaking the line, that he was unable to do so for around twenty seconds.

The script for the scene would read as follows;

Tom: It's often a good idea on a date to come up with a boast about yourself which you can use to impress your partner

Ben thinks about this briefly. Then laughs for ages.

Ben: (Through tear sodden eyes) I own forty cows.

However hard Ben laughed was nothing like as much as I shrieked with joy at such a ridiculous and brilliant boast. I was practically unable to continue with the scene, and it didn't matter, because in that moment there was nothing that could possibly have beaten such a phrase for sheer comedy value.

I realised two things at this point. One, no matter what Ben did with his life from that moment, I would always be disappointed until the number of cows he owned was exactly and precisely forty, and two, the family watching us didn't find it even slightly as amusing as I did. Maybe they'd have preferred some fart gags after all.