Comedy Store Tour 09

Posted on June 5, 2009 by E
Filed Under About Town |

Comedy Store Tour 09 - Ticket StubA few days ago, one of our friends asked us if we wanted to go check out the Comedy Store gig at Blue Frog on Thursday. Now, the Frog isn’t exactly our favourite place to go and spend money (I’d offer that there really are few places we’d like to go spend our meagre earnings in but of the lot, Blue Frog is definitely low, low down on the list). Don’t know what it is about the place but it always manages to piss us off. I’m not being royal as I say us, I’m simply speaking for the missus and me.

Plus there was the added joy of having to shell out a thousand are-you-pee-to-the-double-ee-ess (each!) to essentially go stand around and watch people with questionable senses of humour hold forth about this, that and the other thing. As far as I’m concerned that’s our average night out, and my friends are funnier. Still, a flurry of phone calls later we had agreed to let our actor friend book tickets on our behalf and it was decided (because it is better to have a bad experience than no experience at all – one of our life’s mottos in the recent past) that we would go.

So Thursday evening, we arrived at about eight-thirty to find that the ‘dance floor’ had been laid out with plastic chairs and our ticket-buying mate had enterprisingly blocked five seats for our party - in the front row!

Now it doesn’t matter if you have actually been to a stand-up comedy show or merely seen it on YouTube, you know one thing – most of the comics pick on the people in the first few rows. So I’m freaking out, thinking, ‘this is not good, I’m wearing a t-shirt that could get poked fun at (il Padrino, no effing less) and I really don’t want them picking on m’lady; or my friends’.

We see our ad-filmmaker friend in the rear shadows, chatting with some advertising types and alternating between scolding us for not asking him along and laughing at us because we’re sure to get picked on. This is definitely not helping my mental state. Of course, our actor friend, the one who bought the tickets, is confident that this is going to be an improv-oriented gig, not stand-up. He remembered visiting the Comedy Store in London where he saw a killer improv performance.

Does it all add up? What do you think?

We settle in, I shoot a couple of pictures, look forward to shooting some more, and then hear an announcement that bans the shooting of pictures and video during the performance. I’m in the front seat so naturally I can’t exactly whip out my not-inconspicuous shooter and snap the trio that would go on to shove my mates and I through the wringer of nervous laughter for the duration of their performance.

Comedy Store Tour 09: Ian StoneThe gig begins with Ian Stone, who introduces himself as the emcee for the evening, confesses to being Jewish and proceeds to do bits about visiting India several years ago, beggars, Americans, Muslims and religious divides. All of it is pretty funny stuff. I’m beginning to feel good about this and then he starts talking to the people in the front row. The first guy he speaks to is ‘between jobs’ and his name begins with A. And then he sees me.

Now I’ve prepared myself a little for this moment so when he asks my name I give him my second name because it is Indian and neutral; then I add, “because my other name is just too easy.” So of course he asks and I tell him and the room gets a huge laugh when he proclaims Elvis is still alive and has lost a bit of weight. To be honest it doesn’t take a stand up comic to say that type of stuff to me, I get that every time I meet a new person. I can see it, every time it starts to happen – their eyes bulge a little bit and their stomachs start to inflate like a supersonic burp getting ready to erupt. But enough about me…

So Mr. Stone finally announces the first comic for the night, Sean Meo. Now Sean Meo resembles the actor J.K. Simmons (sort of, but not quite), and he carried on in the same vein – India, poverty, The British, Americans, religion, the front row. I got name-checked again and then they discovered another guy with a name beginning with ‘A’ who was unemployed. By this time I was wondering what so many unemployed guys were doing hanging out at Blue Frog on a Thursday evening, spending a thousand bucks to get in and who knows how much else on food and drinks. The point to be noted was that these lads were from the financial sector (private equity, finance…you get the picture) so clearly, they made hay before the economy collapsed.

And then it was time for a short intermission.

During the intermission the missus mentioned to the other woman in our party that we, the front row, hadn’t really been that badly hit during that first half. Can anybody say, ‘famous last words’? My neck was killing me from having to stare up the nose of the guys who entertained us through the first half of the show, and coupled with the incessant laughter and my not-quite-leaving-me tension, I was relieved to simply be able to look at stuff straight ahead again.

Soon enough, the call was given for resumption of festivities and before you know it Mr. Ian Stone is back on stage. For the funniest segment of the evening. More India jokes, more Jewish humour, proboscis versus penis messing about and the funniest nonsense about bowel movements I’ve ever heard. Y’had to be there but that was some funny shit (no pun intended). And while we were laughing as hard as we could, he introduced Paul Tonkinson, the other comedian on the bill for the night, and a man who looks a lot like the successful, rubber-faced iteration of Jim Carrey.

Mr. Tonkinson pulled a lot more faces, did some funny bits about vibrators versus vibrating penises, picked on the unemployed front row inhabitants, name-checked me, and then went for my banker buddy and his date - the girl my missus had sent into a frenzy of wood-touching when she said, “that wasn’t too bad, they didn’t pick on us that much.”

When he asked my buddy what he did, it wasn’t so much what my friend said, as how he said it, that caused Mr. Tonkinson to keep returning to those words in his performance. And just as my fear of being the next one in line for a sound comedic spanking approached its apogee, he wrapped it up with a nicely discomforting bit about blowjobs.

Thank you, you’ve been a lovely audience. Good night.
P.S. the Comedy Store opens in Mumbai, sometime in December, somewhere in the Phoenix Mills compound.

So final impressions: of the five of us that went together (and sat in the front row, thankyouverymuch) the missus and our actor friend sailed through the evening fairly unscathed. My name prevented the talents on stage from digging any deeper so I guess that was my shield (thank you Mum and Dad). My banker buddy got it the worst, but in a good way. And his lady got dragged in because they were sitting together. All told, good times.

My banker buddy rated them as Stone was tops, Tonkinson was second best and Meo brought up the rear. I am not inclined to disagree. It was all still pretty funny stuff and, for the most part, the humour translated well enough.

And then, when we went in search of food to the Four Seasons, who did we encounter as our dining mates at a nearby table? If you guessed ‘the lot from the Comedy Store’ give yourself a pat on the back and smile proudly at the people around you.

   

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