Continuing the Edinburgh Blog: Not me in the picture, honest!.

This is The Duchess. She was MC at The Big Gay Story Slam at The Gilded Balloon. She gave me the best moment of the whole Edinburgh Fringe when I posted a picture of her on Facebook and someone said, 'You're looking great!' thinking she was me.

Oh for legs that long! :-)

The Big Gay Story Slam was a nightly event where folk went on stage and told a five-minute story about either being part of the LGBTQ community or about their guardianship or interaction with it.

I was thrilled to be invited to take part when I attended Fringe Central's Media Day. Conor, one of the organisers, came over, having spotted the now legendary rainbow clerical shirt and asked me to come along. Try as I might, I couldn't think of a funny story to tell but fortunately, they weren't necessarily looking for humour.

So this is the story I told. But before I tell it, I will add that I started my five minutes with hand on heart, apologising for the treatment LGBTQ folk have had from right-wing religion. I told the audience I took responsibility for what had been said and done in the name of Jesus and that I was so very, very sorry.

My story was about my childhood friend, Pete McKay. Pete was a kind of adopted brother of my school friend, Sara Tompkins. He was gay, as was she. When we were 17 and over, Pete used to take us to Nightingale's, the gay nightclub in Birmingham where we mingled with folk who looked more like Village People than Village People and we got the best physical work-outs ever, dancing to twelve-inch disco remixes which, in the 1970s usually lasted about fifteen minutes each.

I always felt totally safe and protected at Nightingales. The first time, I was a bit scared about going to the Ladies because that was the place I ususally went to get away from people who might fancy me! However, no one ever did fancy me in the Ladies or, just as likely, they weren't mad predators who were about to leap on any undefended female (something that people have often believed about gay men, for some reason).

Pete was a darling. But he was also a bit of a trollop and, after one particularly outrageous trip to New York, he contracted HIV. This was the early 1980s when those terrifying advertisements voiced by John Hurt were starting to feature on our screens.

He's the guy on the far left in this picture, taken at my 18th birhtday party. I'm the rosy-cheeked one in the white and Sara is the fair girl next to Pete.

No one in the medical profession in the Midlands of the UK back then knew very much about AIDS and everyone was afraid that it was contagious like the flu. Once Pete was diagnosed, none of the people he loved were allowed to come within two metres of him, let alone hold his hand or give him a cuddle.

I will always remember, sitting in a chair away from his bed (he was still at home then) and discussing what I should do after he died. You see, the thing is, I was breakfast presenter on BBC Radio WM and Pete's death was going to be the very first known AIDS-related death in the Midlands.  I wanted to know what Pete wanted me to do about that. He asked me not to report it, so I didn't.

On the day Pete died, Sara called me at work and I told my producer, Tim Manning and went home. Tim, bless him, who was also gay, kept schtum. However, BRMB, the local independent station did get the story on the day of Pete's funeral and I nearly lost my job when my news editor found out that he was a friend of mine. It was probably the first time I'd ever stood up to a news editor and I told him, quivering with both rage and fear that personal loyalty was more important than such a news story. Pete had never willingly harmed a person in his life so supressing the story was not an act of injustice.

So far, it's a sad story but I'm glad I had the courage to tell this room ful of strangers at The Gilded Balloon what happened at Pete's funeral. Now, I'm not psychic but there are times when I sense things and I had a real problem at that funeral. Why? Because everyone else was so unhappy and hurt and miserable but I was simply filled with joy and could hardly stop my face from beaming all the way through. It was utterly clear to me that Pete was there; he was dancing above the coffin in a party of angels and laughing with delight.

I've never forgotten that funeral; I suspect that in some way it was part of my journey to ministry and it is certainly why I can never subscribe to any theory that God isn't fond of the gay folk. Pete was in heaven.

At the end of my story, and the stories of the other speakers, The Duchess took a vote. I was that night's winner and, afterwards, a dozen or more people came up to say 'thank you.'

There was no need to thank me. I'm just so grateful that I know what I know...

Oh Edinburgh!

I was going to post a whole load of blogs during White Collar Comedy's stint at the Edinburgh Fringe but my laptop cable died and the replacement I ordered after hastily joining Prime for the one-day delivery, vanished into the ether and never arrived.

Which basically meant I had more time to be out and about, seeing shows, flyering and having fun.
So here's a bit of a catch-up, with some pictures of folk that Kate, Ravi and I met at the Fringe, starting with the winner of Thursday's 'who looks most like a fantasy Jesus?' competition. And yes, we vicars are aware that Jesus would most likely have been a short, dark and definitely Jewish dude. I did say 'fantasy' Jesus, didn't I?

 Kate Bruce and I did a lot of flyering together. Ravi was a one-man flyer phonomenon all on his own and we were just in the way if we hung around while people were being spontaneously seduced by his irresistable charm so we found ourselves a regular spot by the Gilded Balloon and watched out for what we called 'our people' — i.e. respectable middle aged types or spectacular members of the LGBTQ community.

I've been flyering in Edinburgh before but never so successfully or so enjoyably. We spotted our people and launched into our pitch: 'Three genuine vicars doing stand-up. What could possibly go wrong?'

There were three types of responses: 'I'm sorry, I've gone deaf and you are invisible,' gestures that meant 'I'd rather go straight to hell than come to your show' or laughter. If they laughed, then we had a conversation starter and it's the conversations that sell shows, not just the flyers. Sometimes the conversations went on for about ten minutes and maybe they never ended up coming to the show but they were all great conversations and we wouldn't have missed one of them.

What was really rather special was that we recognised most of the people who did come to the show from the flyers we handed out, especially the middle-aged 'respectable' ones who turned up at Sofi's Southside in good time to get themselves a drink and dry out a little from the thunderstorms. That meant that we were able to meet and greet and that, in turn, meant they were happier to talk with us after the show when we forced them to do the traditional 'shake the vicar's hand after the service' routine. Except this time, the vicar's hands had a collection bag and a free 'get out of hell free' card. More than 200 people ended up with one of those after just 10 days. My work here is done!

Before we went to Edinburgh, I posted on Ravi's, Kate's and my behalf on most of the Facebook Edinburgh fora that we were willing and able to be any backup needed for anyone in the LGBTQ community who faced any discrimination while at the Fringe. We can play 'Bible tennis' with anyone who wants to try and say that sexuality is something that Jesus gave a flying fig about or who wants to quote St. Paul (who, incidentally, is one of the misquoted teachers there is and clearly thought that gossiping and being rude to your parents was just as bad as 'abnormal acts' which is generally mistranslated as 'homosexuality.'

It's a bit weird writing this after the event but there are more stories to tell including the one about the Great Gay Story Slam and meeting Eddie Izzard ... so I'll be back...

Capacity crowds and no one more amazed than us!

Edinburgh is beautiful but it is not flat. Until you've got your bearings, you will be doing several cardiac work-outs just trying to get from your bus stop to your venue. They say that J. K. Rowling got her idea for the moving staircases at Hogwarts from the stone steps in Edinburgh that seem to lead somewhere different every time — but always to more steps.

We're four performances in now and, thanks to Fringe Central's excellent 'how to make your show noticed' session, we are flyering like pros. To flyer someone successfully, you need to pick your people carefully and engage them in genuine conversation. For us, picking 'our people' is quite simple: middle-aged couples and groups. Obviously some of them aren't our people and give us the equivalent of a flip while passing on but, hey, we're vicars. We can forgive them. :-)

I even managed to forgive the woman dressed like the most stereotypical witch you've ever seen, including green make-up. I thought I'd say 'hi' and complement her outfit but she swore at me in either Czech or Slovakian and waved her broomstick at me threateningly. Bloody foreign witches, coming over here and stealing our jobs...

Kate had the brilliant idea of flyering a troupe of middle-aged singers performing on the Royal Mile. Every single one of them took a flyer (and they were, at the very least, the types who would recycle them). And as for Ravi - well, he's a natural! About every ten minutes we lost him because he was deep in conversation with someone, charming the M&S pants off them.

Sofi's Southside is a lovely little bar just five minutes from the Fringe Central with seating for about 40 people max. Um ... we may have a venue that's a little too small! On our first night, we had six people, which is not bad for starters but that trebled on night no. 2 and for the last two nights we've been at full capacity! Can't tell you how delighted we are about that.

It's lovely that people have simply found us in the brochure and thought they'd take a punt, it's wonderful that old friends and friends of friends are turning up out of the blue and it's just great that people we've given flyers to, actually turn up! It's also terrific fun to experience ourselves referencing back and forward to each other during the show as we get to know each other better. We are not only performing together, we are living together too. And nobody has died yet!

But God, is it tiring! I went down with a cold on day three so not at my best but it's also hot here and we're not as young as we think we are and are slightly prone to hysterical laughter when Google maps tells us that our destination is ten minutes' walk away 'mostly flat.' That's flat if you have a helicopter. Or a broomstick.

Another part that's fun is getting feedback from Kate when she and I are going somewhere together (Ravi is always strides ahead, engaging with everyone). Kate can see the expressions on people's faces when they see my rainbow dog collar and relays them back to me. They vary somewhat drastically at times. :-)
However, I was stopped by one young man and practically begged to go and take part in The Big Gay Story Slam one evening. Can't wait! (it's for LGBTQ folks and allies so I do qualify).

As we settle in, we're starting to have the energy to go and see other shows, although it's astonishing how many shows I'd like to see are on at the same time as we are. Will have to work on the bi-locating.

We know we're getting at least two reviews — from the in-crowd, Premier Christian Radio were in two nights ago and both Kate and Ravi wisely suggested I dropped all my 'Dartmoor witch' material... And we have Church Times on our last night so I guess that will be witch-free too. Still, the great thing about so many years of comedy is you can always drag up a properly ancient joke and drop it into a gap. It will be fascinating to see what other reviews we may get.

Edinburgh Fringe 2019 - White Collar Comedy.

It was a wet October morning and I was wondering what the next step might be in my comedy career. I was doing okay, but meeting a few dead ends along the way and it felt as though some new impulse was needed.

So, I did what I usually do each morning, gave it to God (who pretty well had to pin me to the ground and wrestle it out of my head as per normal) and sat in meditation. The answer was swift and clear: "If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together."

It's an African proverb so neither God nor I were being particularly original that morning but then God did make Africa along with everything else (including dinosaurs) so I guess He/She can still claim it.

"Go together" meant performing comedy with other vicars. Fortunately I knew two who were intentionally funny, from a show we'd done for Christians in London called Holy Guacamole. Not one of my best gigs: a load of folk staring in horrified outrage at my heresy (and less than perfect timing) but at least I'd got to meet Revs. Ravi Holy (yes, that's his real name) and Kate Bruce.

They take up the story in this article in The Wee Review.  Originally, there were to have been four of us — Rev. Mark Townsend is a talented magician as well as an author — but that will have to wait until another year. Perhaps if Mark were with us, Pontius Pilate would have given us four crosses?

Getting a load of vicars together outide their parishes is like herding cats (we are well trained in plausible avoidance techniques by our Parish Councils) and we live in Devon, Kent and Oxfordshire so we couldn't just meet up after work for a drink. But suitably tempted by the offer of supper cooked by my Jewish friend Adam — all vicars should have at least one Jewish friend who invites you for supper, obviously — we met up in the holy city of Aylesbury and started to plan.

Our first show together was at Leicester Comedy Festival in February. We were doing just one night on the first day of the festival — and none of our promotional material had been brought along for us to do any flyering. It was all done just not delivered. So, we had a pizza and a quick word the the One Upstairs and to our delight, thirteen people showed up. Now, 90% of those were friends of Kate's but no one was complaining about that and we never told the Holy One we wanted strangers. You do have to be very specific in prayer...

Our second gig was at Bath Comedy Festival, eight hours after Lion and I landed at Heathrow from three weeks in the USA. I don't sleep well on planes and was a tad nervous about the effects of tiredness. But the delight of seeing more than 50 people turn up (together with a few of Kate's friends), was enough to help the adreneline and we all did better than on the first night.

So, two gigs together before we headed for the Edinburgh Fringe. Seriously under-prepared? Yes and no. We're each doing our own set which we already know well and allowing ourselves to refer back to each other spontaneously from the day's events and it just works.

Edinburgh isn't cheap and, as we are at the Free Fringe, we rely on donations to keep us going. For most comedians, accommodation is the biggest cost but, bless him, Ravi got in touch with an old friend from his wild-child days who lives on the perfect bus route to our venue, Sofi's Southside, in Buccleuch Street. She's obviously quite crazy because she happily invited all three of us to stay for the whole 11 days we are here.

So here the adventure begins for real. And no better start for three middle class, middle aged comedians to sit with our hosts the night before we begin our run. Ravi and Pauline are discussing their wild days of drugs and punk music (Ravi was lead singer in Satan's Bitches and yes, he'll tell you about that in the show). As they remembered some of their more unravelled times, with "E" and other illegal substances ,Pauline came up with a classic about the seriously mad, bad and dangerous to know "Joe":  "I well remember the day Joe introduced me to Earl Grey tea." You can take a girl out of the Middle Class, but you can't take the Middle Class out of the girl...