Although I occasionally make people laugh I have never really considered the process of how one might fabricate an actual laugh.
In Monday’s session Chris Head went through the comedy basics: set structure, how to prep our material, how to remember it, and how to cope with heckling (God forbid).
“What is it that makes you as the performer laugh – what do you find ridiculous?” he asked us. We were given 12 minutes’ thinking/scribbling time to consider something we had found a bit daft during the week. We were to note three things in particular:
- An analogy – what was it like?
- Its genesis – how did it come about?
- Its future – what happens next?
Exaggaration and imagination were key. How surreal could we go? How far from reality would we be able to drift without totally losing the plot?
My “ridiculous thing” was the “Travellers’ Eviction Threat Action” in Basildon, Essex. They’re in the news a good deal and they inhabit a patch of land not so far from one of the schools I teach at in the county. The thing I find a bit daft about this situation is that the Travellers seem reluctant to do any actual travelling. I sense a rebranding is imminent. The flashy PR gurus from the West End will be down soon and give them a new name, logo, font and “purpose”. “Follow us on Facebook”, the banners will proclaim. If only. According to my taxi drivers, that is…
Chris put us into groups of four or five. We were to deliver two minutes’ worth of our “ridiculous thing” to our group. Peer feedback followed.
Was I funny? I don’t actually know. One or two people smiled, I think. I was too nervous properly to notice. Yet it felt good, this standing up in front of a handful of friendly folk and telling something faintly silly.
Chris took us through the ways we can lift these moments of random life and put them into a story; how to remember the bloody stuff; and how to come back at a heckler, drunken or otherwise. All wise stuff, that inevitably will be drawn upon.
Next week we must deliver three minutes’ material to the whole group… And without a script. This is where the real panic should begin to set in…
… and yet, strangley, it all feels like a good thing to be doing. I found myself enjoying the nerves, the polite applause, the metaphorical back-slapping. We do it for each of us – we are all learners together: this is comedic solidarity.
So, I’ve noticed that I can make people smile. Laugh even. I’ve simply never tried to do it quite so, well, deliberately.
Next week will be a teller. Can I step beyond the scribbled line, lifting my daft tale of urban nonsense and perform my material successfully?
Afterwards, persuaded to stay for a pint, I relished the companionship of doing a class like this. Group vibe = good vibe. Good vibe = group laugh.
Fall Down Stand Up 