The compere began the night well; very chatty, and got the audience in the mood. Two established acts then performed, both of whom were very good. One struggled a bit due to the heckling (good natured, but I would imagine still off-putting) of three intimidating looking men in the crowd. Nerves began to set in.
After this the compere announced the ‘gong show’ was starting. The show works by comics performing 5 minutes of material. After this the crowd can decide whether to keep them on stage or vote them off (they can do this at any point after the initial 5 minutes). If the performer makes 10 minutes, he has beaten the gong.
I was on fourth out of six acts, giving me a chance to see how other people fared, and what the crowd were like. Some really good bits of material on show, and the crowd was friendly, occasional heckles from the group of three mentioned above, which, mindful of my own impending performance, terrified me, but the comics managed to keep on track.Soon my moment came. The compere whipped the audience up into a frenzy and I stepped up on the stage, nervous, slightly embarrassed and blinking in the spotlight.
I picked up the microphone, did a small joke about a stool that had been brought on stage, and I was in. Nerves meant I didn't stick to the running order I had planned, but I'd written prompt words on my hand (meaning I had to clap wrists when applauding the other acts) and referred to them at random. My confidence grew with the sound of titters from the audience at a joke referencing a local garden centre's urinals. From there, I moved onto some material on Wikipedia, and then an erroneous text message and its consequences. By the time I had finished, well and truly exhausting my small amount of material, I realised I had (just) made it to 10 minutes, beating the gong, perhaps a sympathetic gesture from the audience.
I was followed by the Preston comedian referenced in my previous entry, who was experimenting new material, and who also made the ten minutes. At the end of the night the compere called onto the stage the three of us who had beaten the gong, and announced that the winner of the gong show would be decided by that time-honoured method of voting, the 'clapometer'. To my lasting surprise, I won, to my lasting disappointment, there was no cash prize.
Fellow Prestonian and I celebrated in glamorous fashion, with a Snickers bar each on the way home.
