The Short Venue For The Tall Comic

Like a month into your first year at University, just one week in to the festival I was overly tired, bloated, and erratically emotional and my new white converse were ruined from cheap drink spillage and muddy rain.

Edinburgh festival. Wow what a ride. For a female comedian, doing her first show on a double- decker bus where the ceiling is short for her, is as just as an emotional Rolla coaster ride as a first semester at University.

Turning up on the first day, new white Converse trainers and an excited big grin, I began pasting up my posters and placing my flyers around the city. Fast forward two days, after blurred drinks and many spent Scottish notes, I begin my first show. Five minutes in and I've banged my head on the ceiling three times already. However, the ridiculous, but amusing dance routine that opens the show is almost over, and then I can just stand still and speak for 30 minutes and hope the audience laugh at the correct bits.

Each night the gig was getting better and better. Roaring laughs at my unexpected punch lines, and quick witted banters with unusual members, including a German who told me he was Hitler and an old lady willing her husband to pop his clogs with my help.

I suddenly prepared myself for a stormy gig to come my way after feeling a little too untouchable. Low and behold, I got given two bad gigs from the ten that I did. One of which, I beg to say, was not my fault. Tough crowd! A very quiet, tough crowd! The other... Well, what could I expect from a Friday night in the centre of stag and hen city? A very drunk couple came on board, sitting in the front, scoffing some mayonnaise with a bit of chip on the top. This brash voice right under my nose only managed to mimic every punch line I said, or, even worse, shouting "LIAR" when I told the audience something about my life. (Is it really that unbelievable that I lost my virginity at 21?) I learnt a valuable lesson that day. To not take idiots like that personally.. Just to accept there are ignorant people out there who like their mayonnaise and who enjoy trying to kill everyone's fun.

Like a month into your first year at University, just one week in to the festival I was overly tired, bloated, and erratically emotional and my new white converse were ruined from cheap drink spillage and muddy rain. I managed to retrieve I.B.S after eating twenty one cheese and onion pasties, seventeen Angus beef burgers and seven very large German sausages (plus the rest). But knowing I had a show to do each day, as cheesy as my pasty that it sounds, it kept me going. And for that short hour, all problems of the outside work really did vanish. Im already excited about next year's fringe, and it will be even better, as Ill make sure my venue is tall enough for me to wear shoes!

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