To paraphrase Ian Brown, I've got the fear.
On Wednesday I will be performing stand-up comedy for the first time, in Liverpool, and I'm terrified.
I've been working on my routine since last year, and generally thinking about performing comedy for many years, but, as with many things in life (at least in my life), now that the moment looms I find myself underprepared and unconfident.
Performing comedy changed from just a pipe dream to reality when I met a local comedian at a comedy night he ran in Preston, in February this year. I sidled up to him after the event, offered congratulations, and blurted out that I, too wished to perform comedy. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed this eager, naive 'comic' infront of him.
"Do you do jokes about chavs?" He asked. My face dropped an inch or two.
"No I'm afraid I don't unfortunately, although I do do jokes about writing poems, and about ill-fitting swimming trunks, and about..."
"No, that's fine - everyone does jokes about chavs," he explained, and our relationship was formed.
The very next day I received a text, asking if I wanted to do a 10 minute spot in Liverpool, on Wednesday 2nd April. I said yes - it seemed ages away - and I had my first booking. Between then and now I have received numerous more invitations from my comedy guru, inviting me to perform elsewhere (usually at very short notice), but I have always resisted.
"2nd April. Liverpool. That is my moment." I have been thinking. Although now it draws near, I find I still haven't properly rehearsed, and am swiftly losing faith in my material.
But never mind. Liverpool is quite far away. I don't have to go back there soon. I can lick my wounds in peace, in Preston.
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