Bits

I'm doing some stand-up in a couple of weeks. I think I know roughly what I'm going to do: a long new bit, a medium sized old bit and a few short bits of indeterminate vintage.

But it can't hurt to come up with some more material. Especially as my last couple of entries haven't been laughfests.

You know me, I don't like to plan these things out, so I'm just going to think of a random word and riff on it. That's right: riff. I know all the comedy language. E.g. the "mic" is the raised platform upon which the comedian (or "heckler") performs.

I still haven't thought of my random word yet. I'm waiting for the right time. You don't know that, of course. I might have a ready made bit of material based on a certain topic that I'm eager to share. But I don't. And the quality of the material will demonstrate this perfectly.

I've just tried to think of something, but my mind went blank. Lucy suggested I use a random word generator, so that's what I'll do. I'll use this one. You can choose the word type and the complexity. I think I'll go for an average noun. I've always thought of myself as an average noun of some sort, so it will suit me down to the ground. My random topics will be in bold. That's my exciting system. Excited? Of course you are.

My first topic is...

Midnight

[compere introduces me] [muted applause]


I was up until midnight last night. Not the middle of the night. Midnight. I'm not an animal. The middle of the night is, what, 3am? Of course, it depends on how we define the middle. Are we doing averages? Is it the mean? Is it the median? (I don't remember what those words mean, but I'm sure they're relevant).

3am might be halfway through the night, but it's not necessarily the pivot point. Because night gets thicker as it goes on. Between 4am and 6am, night is like a dense slice of chocolate cake. From 11pm to 2am it's more like an After Eight.

The middle of the night seems like it should be the most difficult place to extricate yourself from. Like the middle of a Justin Bieber concert. Surrounded by screaming girls, not even enough room to tear your ears off.

[one stifled laugh]

The middle of the night is the time where the day seems most distant. The middle of night is hidden, deep in the jungle. The contrast between night and blinding morning is at its sharpest.

Which of course means that the middle of the night is... just before my alarm goes off.

[audience shouts: "TELL US A JOKE!"]

OK, OK. I've got other material. I've got a great bit about...

Duplication

Do you ever worry that there are an infinite number duplicate realities? An infinite number of dimensions? An infinite number of alternate, duplicate yous? And that you're the worst one?

Out of all of them, you're the most boring, the most out of shape, the worst cook, the worst pool player.

They'd get together. All of the other yous. They'd hold a meeting. "Well, Paul. We've got good news and we've got bad news. The good news is that you're unique in the universe."

"Ooh, brilliant!"

"Yeah... yeah. But the bad news is that your uniquely shit. You've come bottom of the league table of possible yous."

"Right... but I am unique?"

"Yes, you're unique. In the same way that a snowflake is unique. But where we're snowflakes, you're a shitflake. You are uniquely shit. There's no-one that's shit in the same way as you, and with the same intensity as you."

"Oh. But hang on. If there's an infinite number of mes, surely there can be no bottom to the table? There must be an infinite chain of mes, of an infinite variety of shittiness?"

Then the Council of Interdimensional Einsteins would come out and explain it to me.

"Infinity has to end somewhere. And it ends with you, you shit."

Then one of the Einsteins knocks my hat off, and when I bend over to pick it up, a duplicate Newton kicks me in the arse.

[an audience member's phone rings] [the compere signals that my time is nearly up, even though I've only been on for five minutes and was guaranteed fifteen]

That's nearly all from me. I just have one more thing to tell you on the subject of...

Seven

I always think seven is the coolest of the numbers. The most futuristic, anyway. So streamlined and asymmetrical. I bet the fusty old eight and the doofus six get really annoyed with her.

That's right - seven is female. She doesn't make a big thing of it. She wants to be judged on her own merits.

Seven is always on the move. It's going right. You can tell that just by looking at it. It's pointing that way > 7.

Seven is making its way up the pecking order. It used to be between three and four, you know. But she's making waves. Like an entrepreneuse. Smashing the glass ceiling of numbers, getting covered in shattered fractions, suing that pervy three for sexual harassment.

Don't refer to seven as lucky. It's patronising. But she is magnificent.

She'll be heading further up the number ranks before you know it. She'll be above the twelve. Marshalling an increasing number of dwarves and samurai, kicking that impostor Se7en in its nonsensical alphanumeric face.

[the compere gives me another frantic signal]

I'll just end on a quick joke about my final topic, which is...

Ride

What's the most nauseating ride at the theme park?

The schmaltzer!

Thanks everybody, you've been great!

[one woman claps]

***

Well. There we go.

It's good to stay polished, isn't it?

I wouldn't say any of that was usable stand-up material.

Or stand-up material of any kind.

Or even material. It wasn't material. It was immaterial.

But at least we've all had some laughs.

Some of us have. Some of me. Part of me. A small part of me.

A small part of me laughed.

I think it was my self-doubt. It was a laugh of vindication.