O P I N I O N The comedian and activist issues a timely reminder that being funny is about sheer hard work, not self- indulgence
KATE SMURTHWAITE
T here are hundreds of shows at the Fringe. Statistically they cannot all be brilliant. And that’s OK. Seeing, or indeed being in, a proper turkey is a rite of passage in Edinburgh. That look you give your friend that says, ‘I think we’re close enough to the door to sprint for it at the next scene change.’ That moment when you realise that destroying a Godzilla of red-top newspapers with your super-soaker of truth doesn’t cleverly satirise the rotten core of the Leveson inquiry, but actually just slowly i lls your basement venue with papier mâché.
But please spare me this: actually write a show. The joyous freedom to experiment, unrivalled among arts festivals around the world, will teach you nothing if the opening – and only – joke of the show is ‘Ooops, we haven’t written anything.’ I’ve seen it far too often. The root of the problem is that great comedians have always made their art form seem effortless. They glide in and out of material, slide into improvisation, they’re never at a loss for words. Audiences and critics are easily fooled into assuming comedy greatness is a genetic condition, a gift or sometimes a curse that means every
word dripping from their lips incites uncontrollable hysteria in all upon whose ears it falls. Not so. Here is the dirty little secret. The best comedians are the ones who work hard. The ones who write material, tweak material, pitch up with wodges of notes at suburban pub nights frantically ticking and striking things and searching for a synonym for l ip l op that rhymes with window sill.
Whatever the ticket price, audiences have picked your show from the hundreds out there, given you an hour of their time. The very least you can do is write a show, a show with a point and a structure and a big i nish. And if it doesn’t work as you scrape the newspaper pulp off the l oor with half an espadrille (yes!), at least you can say you failed spectacularly.
Kate Smurthwaite has three Fringe shows: The News at Kate: Leftie Cock Womble, Viva Mexico, 2–23 Aug (not 12), 5pm, free; The Evolution Will Be Televised, Ciao Roma, 2–23 Aug (not 12), 8.20pm, free; Late with Kate, Canon’s Gait, 2–23 Aug (not 3, 10, 17), midnight, free.
UNSUNG HERO We salute the tireless fi gures who devote their Augusts to . . . well, making it all happen
KENNY O’BRIEN
What’s your W jo job title? T Tough one: I I’m area m manager for t the Stand Comedy Clubs and a director of Salt’n’Sauce. Tommy Sheppard (Big Boss) has taken to introducing me as ‘Operations Manager’. Not sure why or what that might mean. I work for the Stand. What do you actually do? Tricky to nail that one down too. I try and make sure we have the people in place to do the work, and
I try to help them be able to do their jobs well. I’m somewhere between being a kind of glue and Harvey Keitel in Pulp Fiction. I usually come tops in the poll of people you’d phone if you accidentally killed someone and needed help with the corpse. I also still pour beers and mop l oors and empty bins, hump gear around and all the down and dirty stuff. I also do tea and sympathy and pecker up-keeping (of a sort). Where are we likely to see you? Running around York Place, St Andrew Square and George Street.
What’s your most memorable festival experience? Most memorable is probably watching Simon Munnery cope with hellish illness by not giving up, but instead writing three shows which he would choose from on a day-to-day basis depending on how bad he was feeling. The biggest compliment I ever had was from a reviewer who said he always holds off going to the loo till he gets to the Stand, because he knows it’s the one venue toilet in Edinburgh he can rely on to be reasonably clean and have paper in, even at midnight.
What’s the worst thing about your job? Dealing with punters who just don’t get it. I also don’t get much in the way of a summer holiday with my wife and kids, but they do understand how hard and intense August is. My wife’s birthday is in August, apparently. Any plans for this year? I want all our customers to arrive, linger and leave safe and happy. All our acts to have a good time, a positive experience artistically, and not go bust for the privilege. All our staff to have a pocketful of anecdotes and some wages left.
MY EDINBURGH
P H O T O © E D W A R D M O O R E
SIMON MUNNERY
My i rst Edinburgh Festival experience was . . . Losing my cherry up Arthur’s Seat. Every year I go back to look for it. Edinburgh’s unique selling point is . . . It’s very handy for the M8.
I am likely to be found . . . Because I am terrible at hiding. That doesn’t stop me trying, though, and nor should it you. Hide from the authorities – one day you might need to. My favourite place to eat is . . . The Square on North St Andrew Street, next to the Stand. I have dish of the day, or the delicious lentil & bacon soup. There are carrots in it – and they don’t even mention that.
My favourite place to drink is . . . Lord Bodo’s, opposite the Stand. [At the moment Lord Bodo’s is closed for renovation.]
Make sure you see… Portobello beach. There’s something about an ocean horizon that cleanses the mind. And the sea cleanses your feet. Double win.
The best thing about the Edinburgh Festival is . . . Its sheer size. It is uncriticisably huge. The worst thing about the Edinburgh Festival is . . . Its sheer size. It dwarfs us all.
One day I will . . . Put on a show at dawn. It is the great unused time slot. ■ Simon Munnery Sings Soren Kierkegaard, The Stand, 1–25 Aug (not 11), 3.55pm, £10 (£9). Preview 30 Jul, £9 (£8); Fylm School, Assembly Rooms, 4 Aug, 6pm, £10; He also appears in A Slight Ache, Pleasance Courtyard, 2–25 Aug (not 13, 20), 12.45pm, £6–£9 (£6–£8). Previews 30 Jul & 1 Aug, £6.
31 Jul–7 Aug 2014 THE LIST FESTIVAL 13