Photo by Ian Smith

Secret Comedy and so Many Friends

Text by Ian Smith
24 September, 2009

It was the 28th August, and I was up at the Edinburgh Festival, with Goldsmiths Drama Society. I knew I must’ve been very drunk the night before, because the first thing anyone who saw me would say was, ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Are you all right?’ whilst smiling, in an expression halfway between concerned and amused. But I felt fine. I went to sleep around 5 or 6 in the morning, but was up again at 8, waking up my friends, pestering them to get ready with hangover-defiant enthusiasm.

The day before, I checked my emails in the hostel, and I’d got one from the Daniel Kitson mailing list, saying he’d be doing two special preview shows at the Forest Fringe at 10.30am the next two days. They’d be for the third story of ‘Stories for the Starlit Sky’, a series of comedy storytelling shows with musician Gavin Osborn, at Regents Park Open-air Theatre at midnight.

Daniel Kitson is widely regarded by comedians and industry, as the greatest comedian working in the UK. His blend of emotional, personal, yet hilarious stand-up has gathered him a massive following, and he has become equally famed for his theatre and storytelling shows.

I felt nervous and on-edge in the morning, rushing around, desperate to make sure we’d get in, and I wanted my friends to enjoy it as much as I would, so they could understand my extreme, and probably a bit annoying, excitement. After we’d had, not intentionally, cold showers, we we’re ready to go, and we got to the venue by 10am, where there was already a queue. When we got into the venue the free porridge, which I think was a key selling factor in getting my friends there, was served. It looked, and tasted, fantastic.

The show itself was, and still is, the best piece of comedy I have seen as of yet. Kitson tells the story of a father and son having their first ‘all-nighter’ together, whilst he tells him a bed-time story about the assassins living in the village of Upper Thwackley. It is a story of friendship, love and brutal murder, and is subtly touching, but also unbelievably hilarious. Gavin Osborn’s songs, which interlace the story, are amazing too. Fantastically written, some of the songs are tearjerkingly sad, others touching songs about friendship, but all of them are heart-warmingly funny. It is hard to describe the show without wanting to explain all the small details and lines which made it perfect. It was genuinely a moment where ‘you had to be there’. The show would probably not be recorded at any stage, and this makes the experience infinitely more special. The setting was perfect too: early morning, old venue and some good friends. The hour and a half seemed to pass all too quickly.

After the show, I was on a high all day, full of energy, and so happy I’d seen the show and that my friends loved it as much as I did. I knew immediately that I would go again tomorrow. I wanted to tell all my other friends and bring them, and I desperately wanted to hear the story and songs again. I didn’t like the idea that I wouldn’t be able to listen and re-listen to the songs I loved like I could with most music.

As a comedian and writer, I was completely inspired, and it made me desperate to write. But at the same time, seeing something that perfect, made me wander if I could ever emulate that in my career, and it created a mixed feeling of determination and self-doubt.
That night, I got very drunk again; ready to repeat the whole process the next morning, with another group of friends. One of my friends was coming back too, with her family. It felt good to spread the word of something so amazing, which would so rarely be seen. When I got to the venue at 10am again that morning, the queue waiting was much longer, and as I stood about half way down, I could see groups of my friends positioned down the line.

The show was amazing, and I was so happy to be able to see it and hear the songs again, and to share it with another group of friends. I felt lucky to have seen the show, but while I watched it, I couldn’t help but feel sad that this would be the last time.

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