Good Sushi & Bad Comedy

It was my flatmate's birthday on Tuesday which she decided to celebrate with Sushi and a comedy night in town, so I was being a good flatmate and tagged along. I should probably add at this point that while I absolutely love Japanese food, I'm not a particularly big fan of comedy in general and stand-up in particular. Consequently, my plan for the evening was to show up for the sushi and then come up with some lame excuse and fuck off before the comedy starts. Unfortunately I didn't quite work out that way. I actually rocked up in time for the food, which was nice (baked aubergine, edamame and pumpkin korroke) but the whole making an exit afterwards so didn't float, mainly because the comedy club was just opposite the restaurant and I got lured in by "oh, just stay for a bit" and "come on, it's my birthday". So I trudged along and basically regretted it almost immediately when we got greeted by our comedian for the night at the door. Yes, he was in charge of the guest list as well, which so didn't bode well for the rest of the (free, by the way) night. He did a bit of quizzing and charming, then let us go down the stairs into the dingy basement club. We secured seats, got drinks and waited for the show to begin.

Our comedian (forgot his name, not important coz you wouldn't want to see him anyway) finally took to the stage, greeted everyone and then started chatting to the guys front row. And then to the rest of the audience. It took me maybe 15 minutes to realise that this was his act. He went on about the people in the front row being German and American, made some lame joke or other, for the whole of his first set. In the break he mingled in the audience, clearly trying to find out where everybody else was from so he could incorporate that into his, well, whatever it was, it wasn't comedy. I was so ready to just run out but flatmate and her friends wouldn't let me. So I stayed for the second part of the drama, where I got mentioned ("you don't look like you're having as much fun as the other Germans" - no shit, Sherlock, how did you get that impression) just like all the Saffa's, Welsh and people from the Carphone Warehouse (a work night out, apparently). Not funny, really not funny.

Suffice to say that when the time came for our, errr, comedian to pass around a jug for donations (free night, right?) I just grabbed my shit and tried to get out. I felt guilty for not giving him money for a split second, but I really didn't want to encourage him to make this his day job, I owe the world that much.

And the moral of this entry is: If someone tries to lure you into a free comedy gig on a weeknight in a dingy basement club, be afraid, be very afraid. And run.