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...

'Fear not,' said the Angel...

It was a beautiful night with a New Moon in South Tawton, Devon, England. And the world was about to change forever…

An angel stood outside the magnificent 15th century granite and thatch, Church House, which has been at the heart of the South Tawton community for more than 500 years.

Okay, she was there a bit earlier than the moon because it's still daylight, but that was a lovely picture to start off with. And, anyway, she was deep in prayer before our story started, wondering exactly what words to use when she spoke to a young lady later that evening. Did you know that the most common phrase in the Bible is 'fear not?' There are 365 mentions of the phrase — one for every day of the year. So, the angel thought to herself, 'let's go with the flow. "Fear not" is as good as it gets.'

Now this was not just any old angel, it was the Archangel Gabriel, the messenger between God and humanity. Wisely, she went up the steps so she could be seen properly and checked her microphone before she delivered her message.

Below her, a young girl called Mary, was sweeping the porch together with two narrators. One was called Beth and the other was wearing reindeer horns. Those narrators got everywhere in those days.

Gabriel told Mary that she was very highly favoured and was going to have God's baby, whom she would call Jesus. Mary wasn't sure about that to start with because she wasn't married, but she was a brave girl and, let's face it, when an angel turns up, you tend to believe it. The 'fear not' bit certainly seemed to have worked.

There were lots of folks in Nazareth that evening so it's surprising they didn't see or hear the angel but God's good at keeping things secret when He needs to. The words 'secret' and 'sacred' come from the same root, which makes a lot of sense.

Ah! Hang on … all the people were there because the Emperor Augustus had turned up out of the blue. That's him in the lych gate in front of the church.

He told all the villagers that they would have to return to their home-towns in order for there to be a census so they could all be taxed correctly.  Emperor Augustus got a big boo and hiss from the crowd.

Mary's betrothed husband Joseph saw an angel too — in fact he saw at least two, one of whom was wearing tinsel — so he knew that it was all okay about Mary being pregnant. He saw some incredibly early Wise Men from the East too but he told them to go home because they'd got the timing wrong. But he said they'd be very welcome later, when the baby was born.

 Joseph and Mary had to go to Bethlehem, where Joseph's family came from for the census. Bethlehem was a long way away, and Mary was pregnant when they had to go, but luckily, there were some friendly shepherds nearby — and some friendly musicians too so people could sing along with the events as they unfolded — and the shepherds thought, 'She'll need a donkey to ride on!'

Incidentally, there's no mention of a donkey in the Nativity story in the Gospel of St. Luke. That bit, and the whole idea of the Nativity scene, complete with cattle and a donkey, was invented by St. Francis of Assisi in the twelfth century. Way-to-go St. Francis! It's been fun ever since.

So some pretty fierce negotiations went on over purchasing the donkey for Mary (the donkey's name is Nazareth which is an amazing coincidence, when you think about it). But the shepherds got a good deal in the end.

But Mary was a bit of a softy so she didn't ride the donkey after all. In fact, she got a nice lady to lead Nazareth all the way to Bethlehem. But there's no truth in the rumour about their driving there in a  Peugeot…

If you look closely, you can see that Mary took her broom with her, which actually turned out to be a very good idea.

After a long, long walk, they arrived in Bethlehem. But it was even fuller of people than South Tawton/Nazareth and they couldn't find anywhere to stay.

Okay, there might have been a Peugeot outside the Inn, but it belonged to the Landlord, not to Mary and Joseph, honest. And although the landlord at the Inn in Bethlehem is usually a bit of a baddie and turns the Holy Couple away, this time, the landlord — whose name was Tony — had a good reason to be full. His Inn was stuffed with Syrian refugees.

Still, he said they could sleep in the stable and gave them the keys. So Mary and Joseph went to the stable, which looked a bit like the altar at St. Andrew's…although that's obviously only a coincidence. And Mary was very grateful that she'd brought her broom because she could make sure the stable was clean and tidy for the baby to be born in.

 It's a good thing that it was a very large stable because lots and lots of people came along to see them and to sing about them. And the whole church sorry! stable was full of Christmas trees from the Christmas tree festival earlier that day so it looked just lovely.

You can't see it very well (because it was too dark for my camera) but the donkey's certainly there too on the right. And here's a bit of an innovation. The baby Jesus was born just as Mary and Joseph got to the altar sorry! STABLE and, instead of a manger, he's sleeping in a state-of-the-art baby stroller. Very sensible too because it's a genuine four-week-old baby in there and if Paul Seaton-Burn, the Rector, had tried to put him in a manger full of straw, you probably wouldn't have heard the congregation singing for the yelling of a baby covered in straw prickles.

Not all babies are as good as the baby Jesus. But then he did have swaddling bands so that would probably have protected him from the tickly straw.

Then lots more angels turned up — and a sheep. Which was fortunate because the shepherds came too, though I don't have a picture of that. And it was the very same shepherds who'd bought Mary the donkey so wasn't it nice that they got to see the baby? The Wise Men came back too with their lovely gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

And don't forget the Christmas chickens. They're in a cage to the left. But there definitely would have been chickens. And very well-behaved chickens they were too.

So it all ended very happily, and the people sang a few more songs, accompanied by the minstrels, and then there was tea and cake and mulled wine and mince pies in Church House and we all went home happily.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 18, Part One. Arfur Smif.

Today I went to see Arthur Smith Sings Leonard Cohen Volume Two. Lion and I had seen an excerpt from vol. one at the Bath Comedy Festival back in the spring when I was one of three people opening for Arthur's set. He was such a delightful man, friendly and open and nothing like as miserable as he likes to appear. Or at least he was putting on a very good front. And he was very encouraging about my act — and even follows me on Twitter. Not that he ever does anything else on Twitter...

Anyway, I'd tweeted that I was going and that I hoped to get a hug. I'd had an Arthur Smith hug before and it was a good one. And I'm missing my dear, lovely scruffy bloke and our cuddles and I thought it would be really good to have a hug from another dear, scruffy bloke.

So I sent him a direct tweet that said 'Coming to see you tomorrow. Any chance of a hug?' No reply but none expected.

I went to the show — and frankly I was blown away. Arthur is backed by an excellent girl group called The Smithereens which really transforms the show into a concert and he mixed comedy with tragedy with anecdote with song.

Now I love Leonard Cohen's songs. I just never liked Leonard Cohen singing them. One of my favourite albums of all time is Jennifer Warnes' cover album, Famous Blue Raincoat, and the duet with Leonard on Joan of Arc is one of my favourite songs of all time.

But oddly enough, even though he sounds like Leonard Cohen, I really like hearing Arthur Smith sing his songs. And I just sat there in this big, black theatre for an hour entranced. I can't emphasise enough just how good this show was. It took us to hilarity and then made the stars bow down for pity minutes later.

And there's lots that's rude about Leonard Nimoy's poetry.

At the end, I hesitated and wondered if I should just leave with the others. Apart from anything else, Arthur had looked impressively smart and star-like on stage whereas he had been really scruffy in Bath. It was a different thing approaching someone more distant and obviously famous.

I waited for the crowd to leave and asked God what He thought. And then I saw Arthur wandering backstage, on the phone to someone. So I waited a little longer.

Three other people were waiting to talk to him and he came out and chatted with them all in the way that celebrities do; very polite and interested but carefully detached. I just waited. Then he turned to me and I said, "Maggy. Bath Festival." His eyes lit up with recognition and he just held his arms out.

It was a lovely hug. And I noticed that he was wearing his smart tee shirt inside out. Thank you Arthur.

Edinburgh Fringe Day 17 — Memories and Laughter

I could live here. I think that every time I take the 44 bus into town and as we go down the hill from Colinton I can see the whole city and its castle before me and onwards to the sea. I think that every time I take the 44 bus out of town and the moorland hills emerge through the houses and the trees to my right.

Though I'm not sure I'd want to live here at Fringe time. It's like Oxford Circus at Christmas out there at the moment!

Today I went to see a "Rock 'n' Roll Radio" with Roland Gent at the Free Sisters Pub in Cowgate. That was a bit of a challenge given that there was at least one very drunken wedding reception taking place and Roland's room 'The Staff Room' had no windows, made a prison cell look attractive and was right next to the lavatories. It was so hot that we had to keep the door open so not a peaceful gig, you might say.

But it was fun. I thoroughly enjoyed Roland's comic reminiscences about music and radio stations when DJs were actually allowed to play their own choice of music. Being ten years older than Roland, I remember it well — I was allowed to play my own choice at both Hereward Radio and BBC Radio WM. The management didn't like it so I'm probably partially responsible for the modern-day regime where all the music is selected across the board for about six stations at a time.

I enjoyed remembering the first 45 I ever bought (The Carnival is Over by the Seekers) and the first LP (The Monkees) and as Roland was also a newsreader that brought back some good memories too. I was a newsreader at BBC London when the esteemed Chris Morris of The Day Today fame was a DJ. He was a total liability back then because he'd go straight into the news with a joke instead of a record and a jingle. On days when there had a been a tragedy or something similar, that was a bit hard to deal with...

And I remember the day that Andy Peebles was in a complete hissy fit because there was no engineer to run the tapes for the show after his and he was not prepared (quite rightly) to stay on and change the tapes on the hour. Fortunately, having been a DJ, I was able to volunteer to do it for him and I did. I wrote a memo to the then boss, Matthew Bannister, telling him that there had been an oversight so that it wouldn't happen again and never got another shift at that station so I obviously pissed someone off with my helpfulness that night...

But I digress...

When I went to see The Lunchtime Ferrets a few days ago I was impressed at how their compere, Paul Wogan, encouraged the audience to laugh. It was a simple technique: he told us to laugh. Then he got us to practice.

Now, I know I'm funny, but I was getting a lot more quiet chuckles than outright bellowing so I've adapted his practice and done a short introduction before I start my routine. It has made an astonishing difference!

For the last three nights, I've had belly-laughs, cheering, clapping and snorting (good snorting). So I am a very happy bunny. When the audience laughs out loud, the comedian gets better. It was a lovely crowd tonight with two Facebook friends ... one of whom, Dee, is reading this blog and knew the saga of my absent, rampaging socks. No, they have not turned up. So Dee had bought me a new pair.

I'm very touched and, as with most presents, they are not a pair I would ever have bought for myself (having cats on them). But I love presents like that. They will always be easily identifiable as "my Edinburgh socks." And I'm not letting them out of my sight.