J is for Jokes

Jokes. The ‘things’ you tell that make people laugh. Hopefully.

As you may notice, this post is incredibly delayed, because A) I’m usless, and B) I’m busy. However, it means that it has coincided with a recent ‘scandal’ of sorts, involving Keith ‘Thief’ Chegwin and some other people’s jokes. A helpful precis and thoughtful article are linked to below:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-10725773

http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/theatreblog/2010/jul/22/keith-chegwin-comedians-jokes-twitter

I’m not going to say anything on the matter, as I’ve already commented on it previously in this blog; except to say that hopefully this makes people more aware of the fact that, in the words of Tony Cowards: “Jokes don’t just appear from thin air but someone has to go to the time, trouble and effort of writing them…it’s a bit galling if someone then steals them and takes the credit”.

Anyway, on to the bit where I write about jokes.

Personally, I find it quite hard to sit down and write; most of the jokes I use in my set just come to me when I’m out and about, and I see something/hear something and then twist it a bit to make it funny. I find that while I’m perfectly capable of writing jokes on demand, they’re never as funny as the ones that come in moments of inspiration, near ‘perfectly’ formed – all of my favourite jokes were written this way.

As hard as it is to provide a definition for ‘joke’, there are a few rules/guides/points that I, as a one-liner comedian, keep in mind when writing them, as I feel (as do the majority of comedians) that they are vital to a funny joke:

• Punchline at the end of the joke. AT THE END. People will laugh less (if at all) if you carry on after the funny word. For example, “Laminator: Baby sheep, it’s a machine that kills them” is rubbish compared to “Laminator: A machine that kills baby sheep”.
• Keep it as short as possible. As Shakespeare, through Polonius, said, “Brevity is the soul of wit”. A funny idea is funnier if it’s encapsulated and communicated in as few words as possible.
• If I find it funny, the audience probably will too. Sometimes there’s jokes that I write that I dislike, but the audience do, so I perform them. There’s some that I love, that the audience don’t, so they’re consigned to a notebook to be re-visited at a later joke.
• Timing makes a huge difference. If it’s a good joke, and they don’t laugh, you’ve done something wrong. Or it could just be a bad joke.

I’d like this post to be longer than this, but there’s been so much written on the subject of jokes – Jimmy Carr’s book being my favourite – that I’m not really adding anything to it. I just couldn’t think of another thing for J.

Tomorrow, K for Killing.

I is for Improvisation.

Improvisation. Whether it be audience banter, off-the-cuff riffing, or adapting your jokes to fit the situation, improv is at the heart of many a comic’s set. A quick improvised remark can have the crowd in stitches at a display of genuine comedic talent, while an extented ad-libbed rant can leave the audience shouting for more.

Personally, I don’t deliberately work any improvised elements into my set, unless I’m MCing, where it is a necessity – there’s nothing worse than seeing an MC do just prepared material (in my opinion); however, I appreciate the importance of improv in comedy – you must respond to happenings in the room, be it a heckle or a sudden unexpected noise (dropping of drinks etc.), as not only will this aid in establishing/building your authority, but it can also provide your audience with a great laugh.

Despite my stand-up being based around tightly worded one-liners, my greatest success as a performer has come through my work as an Improviser, performing with The Oxford Imps, Adventure Incorporated and (upcoming at this year’s Fringe) Racing Minds. The Imps sold out last year’s Edinburgh show to over 2,500 people, and this year are in a 120 seater venue. Adventure Inc. got a couple of great reviews, we drew some great comments from the audience, and off the back of that, Racing Minds have got a 150 seater venue for this year’s fringe, at the Counting House, the Free Festival’s biggest and most prestigious venue.

I wouldn’t say that I’m a great improviser, but I manage to do quite well at certain games in our sets, and it can’t be denied that performing to a crowd of 80+ people every week in Oxford is exceptionally helpful in stagetime and confidence. I’m a very good improvised rapper, i’m very good at punning on demand, and I can make up a good song in musicals. I’m also improving my long-form skills – performing with Racing Minds will help this tremendously, and I really enjoy Improv. I’m not exactly sure why I went into stand-up as a one-liner merchant rather than a more anecdotal/chatty comedian, as I am reasonably good at it (I would say, “I’m no Ross Noble”, but I doubt the extent of his improvisation these days), perhaps it’s a case of wanting to showcase my gag-writing abilities to an audience, and prove to myself that I can do several types of comedy (I set up a sketch group too, and we’re quite good – four stars and all that); or perhaps it’s just wanting to get all the love, laughs and applause for myself, rather than share them around a group (it sounds selfish, but I love that feeling).

Overall, Improv is good, great even, and worked into stand-up sets, it can really add a special something to a gig. However, if your act doesn’t involve improv, remember that there’s a huge difference between free-wheeling a 15 spot and just adding an improvised acknowledgement to a comment on one of your gags. If you’re strict at sticking to your own script, try loosening up at your next gig and see where it takes you.

*End Scene*

H is for Hecklers.

Hecklers. Ahhh, hecklers. Lovely people, aren’t they? We all love an interruption, especially during the pause before a punchline.

How many times have I been heckled? Well, it depends on what you count as heckling – if we take it to be anything offensive, such as “you’re shit”, then only once in my 35ish gigs (dreadfully low, I know, I really shouldn’t be giving advice…) – incidentally my response was “I think it’s less a case of my shitness, more a case of you not understanding jokes”…which worked, thankfully.

If we include any general interruptions, then a fair few times, but all of them friendly – at some gigs, the audience might just want to chat to the comedian, or comment on something they said, or affirm that they related especially to something that was said. This can be lovely, and shows – in the majority of cases – that the audience are on your side; I did my first ever 15 spot at a Labour Club, and the majority of it was me telling a joke and then building on it with a chat to a particularly ‘character-filled’ section of the audience, which turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and successful gigs I’ve done.

So, general comments, in my opinion, aren’t heckles – they’re just that, general comments.

(Apologies for the hugely parenthetical nature of this post – so far).

With ‘proper’ hecklers, theres several things to remember (although I haven’t been heckled much, I’ve seen a lot of comedians respond to them, so have made a few observations):

• They just want attention, attention which during your set, is focused on you. As a result, fellow audience members will be annoyed at this distraction. They’re on your side, not that of the hecklers.
• They’re probably drunk. You have a huge advantage in this situation, as you’re (hopefully) sober, and much quicker than them. It’s like throwing a kitten to a great white. A drunk kitten.
• With comebacks – and please please please say something, otherwise the audience will lose huge amounts of confidence in you – speed is valued over humour. Obviously, something quick and funny is preferable and will almost always grab you a round of applause for the response, but if you’re drawing a blank, just say something quickly and they’ll usually shut up, and you’ll get a laugh.
• In related news, if a heckler shouts something, repeat it into the microphone. The audience probably didn’t hear it, so any great comeback won’t make sense to them – also, it gives you more time to think of a great comeback.
• If possible, don’t resort to standard putdowns, most audiences will have heard them before, and it shows no effort on your part. If you’re that worried about not being able to come up with something in the heat of the moment, just write some putdowns that could be used in response to most heckles/ones you may get based on your specific act.

It really is important to respond. I can’t stress that enough – a good response to a heckler can flip a bad gig on its head, and make a good one even better. It can win a hostile crowd round, and settle a rowdy one down – in this sense, hecklers are your friend.

To briefly cover any other related issues:

• If they keep at it, respond a few times, and by then, the audience/venue are going to turn on the heckler and that’s usually enough to sort them.
• If the heckler is female, take it a bit easier if you’re going to start laying into them – you can lose an audience if you go in too heavy straight away, and that’s not good. If, however, they are being a real pain, then feel free to give them both barrels. Same for men, obviously.
• They could just have tourettes.

To conclude, if you haven’t seen it, watch this. Herring tears this man apart – it is, in my opinion, the best handling of a heckler i’ve ever seen.

G is for Gigs.

Gigs. Without these, what are we? You can spend as much time as you want telling jokes to your friends, family, the mirror etc., but material has to be tested, delivered and honed in front of a live audience. Without gigs, comedians cannot grow, improve and progress (yes, I appreciate I’m using the rule of three in this opening paragraph…’Check ma rhetoric!’), so getting/doing as many as possible is a good idea.

You’ll have good ones, you’ll have bad ones, you’ll have ones in the middle, you’ll have ones that you wish would never end (gotta break the rule of 3), and whatever feeling or emotion you’re left with after one gig will stay with you until the next one (unfortunately, the fallout from a bad gig tends to stay with you in a much more intense manner than that from a good gig). Still, you can’t avoid them, shying away like a baby bear (no idea), and refusing to perform – they’re as necessary as *something important* is to *someone relatively well-known*.

Yes, it’s late, and I’m tired so this may not be as incisive and intelligent as usual (yep) and may have an increased use of parentheses (I love them) – I’m also slightly distracted by About Schmidt which is on TV right now – but this is such a basic point when it comes to comedy, that I can’t really elaborate much more – in the words of Quagmire from Family Guy: “Gig-gig-giggity”.

Book them, do them, rip them, bomb them…

Enjoy them.

F is for Friends.

Friends. The people you like, who like you back. The ones you test jokes on.

This post isn’t the most relevant to performance or practice, much more some handy advice to warn you of a few things.

If you start doing stand-up comedy, you can get on people’s nerves. If you’re constantly slipping jokes into conversation to test them out, asking them to come to your gigs, or (my flaw) relating everything they said to a joke of yours or a joke you’ve seen performed; then expect them to tire of this quickly, if they haven’t already.

It’s helpful to have one friend (preferably your best one, or partner) who you can test jokes on, who will tell you if something is rubbish, who will tell you if it is funny, who will rifle through your comedy notebooks and ask “Why have you never told this one?”. This is important. Obviously the best way to test material is at a show, preferably with a few people in the audience (some new material/new act nights are quite badly attended, and you will quite often be performing to other comics – get along to a good night, you’ll find out what your area’s best are by asking around or checking out the forums), but it’s always good to have someone to bounce material off, who can suggest a little tweak every now and then.

Having alienated all your friends by constantly saying “that reminds me of a joke by…”, you’ll find that you’ll make friends with other comedians. This is good and bad.

Good:

• You can endlessly chat about comedy.
• You can learn what nights and venues are ‘good’.
• You can pick up tips and advice from others’ experiences.
• If you’re good, you’ll have a network of people who’ll be mentioning you to other comics and promoters, and hence you might find that one or two extra gigs come your way.

Bad:

• You’ll forever be comparing your acheivements with theirs. Did they get to the final of a competition that you didn’t? Are they MCing a night that you’d love to MC? Are they a lot better than you after less time?
• Comedians can be bitchy, and I’ve seen a few people fall out quite quickly.
• They will rarely laugh at your jokes, and instead ‘appreciate’ it, with a nod and a “hmmmmm” (perhaps this is just me).
• They’ll be earning as much as you (not a lot), so don’t expect anyone to get the rounds in.

I’m sure there’s lots more that I can’t think of at the moment, but those are a few that spring to mind.

So, keep your old friends by saving the comedy chat for your new comedy friends.

My friendship group consists of only 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know Y.

E is for Expectations.

Expectations. The audience have these. They are of you.

From the moment you step on stage, before you even open your mouth, people will have expectations of what you will be like – prejudices based on your sex, race, clothes and many other things. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as you can play with these, and manipulate them in order to get laughs. This works either way – if you look like you’re going to deliver downbeat one-liners and you do, you are meeting their expectations; if your jokes are hilarious, you will surpass these (obviously, I’m assuming that you’re a new, unknown comedian and not a household name). If you look like you’re not the cleverest person ever, and you begin to tell cleverly worded jokes with sophisticated wit, you are playing with their expectations, and will get laughs for this.

For example, I used to walk on stage and begin by shouting out a proverb, in a loud ‘actor-ish’ voice. After the initial laugh that resulted from the joke that came after it, I would then pause, and say, quietly and calmly, “Hello”. This would make an audience laugh, as their initial expectations of my act (big, bold, loud) were subverted.

What I have written is all rather clear and obvious to most people – if you walk on looking cute and cuddly and then deliver a foul mouthed set about sex and violence, their expectations have been trashed – however, there is a point other than stating that you can get laughs from subverting expectation.

The point is an obvious one, and one worth stating now, especially since  I’ve already used up the ‘A‘ of this alphabetical tips series. That is your Appearance. The audience build their expectation from the way you look, and if there’s anything different to ‘usual’ about you, then address it as soon as you get onstage – are you very small/tall; thin/fat; strange looking etc. Do this, and suddenly the elephant in the room disappears. You can get on with your comedy, with their attention on your jokes and you, and not your huge mole/wonky teeth/lack of ears. If possible, do this with a gag, it sets everything up nicely, gets it out of the way, and starts you on a laugh. When you address this, it’s surprisingly easy to get a laugh, as it breaks the tension built up in the room – just as you might say ‘bit of a rubbish one there’ after a joke flops, and get a laugh from acknowledging the fact. I get a laugh from stating that I’m no longer a teenage boy, and I still wear braces. It’s that easy.

Well, that’s it for now – I hope it was what you expected. HAHAHAHAHAHA

Tomorrow: F is for Friends.

D is for Delivery.

Delivery. The style in which you tell your jokes and address the audience.

“In comedy, your delivery is vital to your act. For example, I wouldn‘t be as funny if the midwife dropped me.”

Ever seen a comedian with awful material who still manages to get laughs? Ever seen a comedian with great material who couldn’t even raise a titter? Chances are, the reason was their delivery. Your delivery is the way in which you sell yourself on stage, the way you make people sit up and take notice, the way you transfer your material from your brain to the audience’s. Watching any comedians, you can see that delivery is absolutely vital to how they perform. One of the big differences between new comedians and more experienced ones can be seen in their delivery – newbies will usually be less confident, and not stand out, while more experienced comics will  deliver the material on their own terms, and usually have a style which is distinctively theirs.

Think of your favourite comedians, and mentally deconstruct their styles of delivery. For example, I’d break down the delivery of some of my favourite comedians would look something like this (in my opinion):

• Mitch Hedberg – Laidback, Low Key, Shy, Surreal.
• Milton Jones – Deadpan, Zany, Assertive.
• Gary Delaney – Cheeky, Matey, Relaxed.
• Daniel Kitson – Conversational, Intellectual, Friendly.

As you can see, it’s quite hard to define a specific delivery, and the adjectives above describe a combination of things about the comedian, such as their speech, material and demeanor – these things are all intertwined and linked together as part of a comic’s delivery.

Delivery is not really something that you choose, it just comes naturally from the joke – the cadences and rhythms emerge naturally over time as you tell and retell a joke, and you grow in confidence and as a comedian – it is something that finds you, rather than you finding it. Out of the comedians above, if you watch any of Milton’s earlier performances, you’ll see that he was much more deadpan, playing a very strange character, a sort of idiot savant (In a slightly more Neanderthal way than Emo Phillips did), whereas now he’s more of a crazy uncle, the friendly nutter at the bus stop. The same goes with Delaney – he started out as deadpan as you can imagine, before changing to a friendlier, chattier delivery over time, and benefitted hugely from this.

As far as my delivery goes, I started telling deadpan one-liners, before switching to a more conversational delivery, chatting and freewheeling a little more, before switching back, and sticking with the deadpan. The reason was that, as an inexperienced comedian (which I still am), I didn’t have the confidence to pull off the high status necessary for that sort of deadpan, and so it worked better for me to make friends with the audience, as I seemed to be alienating large sections of audiences by being deadpan. Having switched, however, I found that the chatty style didn’t really distinguish me from any other comedians my age – everyone (except the ‘new breed of anti-comedians’) was doing the same, being friendly to crowds, engaging them, and I wasn’t standing out – in fact, my material suffered, the jokes didn’t work as well with this style, and although I was making more of the audience like me, I wasn’t happy with being just ‘one of the crowd’.

So, a few months ago, I returned to deadpan, more experienced, and I worked on it. It’s still early days, but there’s been a massive improvement – I keep my status high, I deliver my material well, and the jokes get the ‘breathing room’ they deserve, standing on their own, being judged on their own merits, rather than people laughing because I told them in a charming or wacky way. This is dangerous, as it means that weaker jokes flounder and die, but the upside is that it forces me to write better ones to replace them, and that’s what I’ve been doing. Some jokes that before, just got a laugh, now draw applause, benefitting from my new style of delivery. I get away with a lot more too, while I used to never do offensive jokes, I can now work some in at the end of the set, touching on more taboo topics and being able to get good laughs from them. I’ve become more skillful, controlling my jokes and the crowd, working audiences in the way that is necessary to be a good comedian.

If you’re confused about delivery, just gig. Gig until something appears. It’ll come if you give it time.

Tomorrow: E is for Expectation.

C is for Commitment.

Commitment. The ability to say to yourself, “I want to continue with this, so I’m going to put some work in.

What do you need to put work into?

• Performing. This is the most important thing – you improve through gigging as much as possible.
• Booking slots. If you want to gig, you’ll need to do some phoning, emailing, searching etc. in order to get some stage time.
• Writing material. If you’ve got gigs, you need jokes – good jokes. If you’ve got lots of gigs, you need more jokes. If you want to progress and perform 20 minutes instead of 10, you’ll need a lot more jokes.
• Marketing. It’s no good being great if no one has heard of you. Of course, if you storm a gig, any promoters there may remember you, as will the other comics, but what about everybody else who wasn’t there? If a promoter wants to get in touch with you, or get promo shots, how do they? Get a website, a blog, get listed on comedy cv, post on twitter – anything that gets your name out there, associated with comedy and shows off your skills (a couple of caveats being – if you’re just starting out, don’t put your videos on youtube, unless you are a comedy god, and there’s not a lot of point in having a comedy cv if you have nothing to put on it. Do the gigs, know what kind of comic you are, get the quotes, then get a cv).
• Learning. From gigs, other comedians, books, the internet – the best thing is to get out and go to gigs. See the professionals do it, watch how they work a crowd, deliver a joke – learn from them, they know what they’re doing.

There’s a lot more commitment required – if you’re gigging widely (or even locally) you’ll be travelling a lot. Put up with it, enjoy it, whatever – if you’re good and you stick at it, it’ll pay off. You’ll have to sacrifice certain things, such as relationships, friends, work etc. (perhaps a slight exaggeration),  but be aware that if you want to be a great comedian, it takes work. Just because you’ve watched someone tear it up on stage after 4 gigs, don’t get it into your head that you should be like that – it takes work, time and commitment, and everyone can improve, everyone can spend a bit more time honing material, and everyone can sit down and write one more joke.

If you want to do it, commit to it. Just because it’s comedy, it doesn’t mean it deserves less time than a sport, an instrument or your family (ok…perhaps you can focus on them slightly more).

Tomorrow: D for Delivery.

B is for Belief.

Belief. What you need to have, if you are to do stand-up comedy. There’s no point being half-hearted about it.

Whether it’s a hobby, occasional dalliance, or your career, you need to believe:

• That you can do it. That you can get up on stage and talk to people.
• That you are funny. If you don’t, why should an audience?
• That you can handle criticism, knockbacks, heckles and abuse. Because it will happen.

When you first decide to do stand-up, and when you decide to continue with stand-up, it is because you have belief in yourself. You are funny, and can make people laugh, so you believe that you should share that with others.

Belief is a part of confidence, one of the most important things to have on stage. If you don’t look confident, or appear confident (you can appear unsure and nervous while still being confident – eg. Lee Evans) then expect to be given a hard time – confidence is one of the secrets of comedy. Take Sam Gore, Laughing Horse New Act of the Year 2009 amongst many other awards – his harsh, acerbic wit and carefully crafted ‘abuse’ (for want of a better word) would be very tough, nigh on impossible for him to perform if it weren’t for his unwavering confidence and high status. If you ever get the opportunity to see Sam perform, do – he’s fantastic.

Do I believe in myself? Of course. I believe my jokes are good, I believe my delivery is good, I believe I am interesting and worthy of that 10 minutes on stage. It doesn’t matter if others don’t believe this – project this belief onto the audience through confidence, assertiveness and status, and you’ll find that no one questions your place. I have some awful ‘cheesy’ puns in my set, but if I deliver them with belief and the confidence that they’ll work, they will work. Once you doubt yourself, you’ll find that you’re on a path to destruction, a path that takes you far away from where you want to be. If you doubt yourself, either find that self-belief again, or stop, take a break, and come back once you believe in yourself. Sometimes that’s what has to happen.

Belief is important in all aspects of life, so why ignore it in stand-up. Believe, and they’ll laugh, I promise. As long as the joke isn’t dog shit.

Tomorrow: C is for Commitment.

A is for Audience.

Audience. The people who watch comedians perform. Those who you tell your jokes to.

You need to make thes people listen and laugh. Your job is to entertain them, and if you do not, you haven’t done your job.

If there’s one thing that I’ve learnt, it’s that you can never blame your failures on the audience. Almost everyone will tell you this – you just can’t. Were they too tired? Wake them up. Too rowdy? Go with it, or calm them down. Too stupid? No one is too stupid. I’m still a very new comedian, but I think that over my first 20 or so gigs, I’ve learned to read audiences at least a little bit, and the trick is to adapt. Don’t radically change your set, just alter little bits – perhaps change up the delivery or switch round your material (which you know like the back of your hand, right?).

ONE THING – Never, ever, ever prejudge an audience. Start as you normally would and take it from there – don’t come on moaning about how it’s not your crowd and you’re going to tell different jokes so they might be rubbish – No! – just take the stage, tell some jokes, read the crowd and take it from there.

I’ve done student gigs at Oxford and Cambridge where people have failed to get the most basic of wordplay. I’ve done student gigs at polytechnics where the ditzy looking blonde girls have laughed the hardest at jokes I’d consider esoteric (at best).

Most of all, I did a gig at a Labour Club, where the majority of the crowd were over 50, had never seen live stand-up before (this took the MC by surprise!), and looked like they could crush me like a pringle. Nevertheless, I came on stage, told my first jokes and let my deadpan become a bit more conversational when I realised they were eager to talk back to me (it wasn’t exactly heckling – they were just shouting out helpful additions after punchlines, my favourite being “Oh! Thrush!”). I came off stage 15 minutes later with a great feeling, one that let me know it had been a great gig, and myself and the other acts had broken in some comedy virgins in the best way possible.

Any other things I know about audiences? Yep, and here they are in handy (handy because I’m busy) bullet point form:

• They want to like you. Treat them like your friends and they’ll be friendly.
• Engage them. No one likes to feel detached – even if you’re Mr Strict Deadpan, find a way to work some interaction in – discovering this was a real epiphany for me.
• Be firm, but kind. Unless someone’s being a fool, be friendly – you don’t want to alienate anyone, especially not if they’re bigger than you.
• Status. Keep this in mind – it’s no use being too friendly if that means they’re just going to shout over you all the time. You’re in charge, so make sure they know that.
• Look at them. For god’s sake, look at them. Not over their heads, not at their feet, look at them. Look at them all, make eye contact, deliver punchlines to individuals, scan the room, gesture, smile, be engaging!

There’s loads more I’ve forgotten, and a post about hecklers will appear as I continue through the alphabet.

As you can imagine, all opinion and thought on this subject is my own, so feel free to disagree and ignore any advice – it’s what I did.

If you have anything you’d like to say that I’ve missed out, or just general comments/tips/advice, do post it in the comments section – it’d be great to hear others’ views.

Tomorrow – B is for Belief.