Comedy Central

The good, bad and completely out of touch

Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash

When I was single and living in London, if you can call New Barnet, London, I used to enjoy comedy nights out. A friend in Chiswick, not single, used me as his Saturday night ticket occasionally, for beer and laughter. He/they are still together and I haven’t watched live comedy in years.

Strange therefore, to be sitting here, reflecting on my last two Saturday evenings, which featured a bevy of professional comedians.

Last Saturday was organised by one of Mrs H’s bezzie mates. It turned out to be an extraordinary, smorgasbord of comedy talent at The Bearcat Comedy Club in St Margarets, near Twickenham. Our friends, regular imbibers, said we’d hit a rich vein with the polished performances of the five acts on the bill. Even Paul Merryck, a 50 something year old man from Essex, with a love for beer, football and sex, was finding success in the open mic spot. And all for no pay.

It’s a tough business.

In some respects, Paul spoilt what I remember as one of the highlights of every comedy evening. The open mic spot is the opportunity for someone new to see whether their material, hilarious when they wrote it at the kitchen table, really does tickle the funny bone of a live…