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25th April 2016
09:44am BST
It’s a lovely venue and I was delighted with the room for the show. I knew pre-sales weren’t great. Only 5 tickets had been sold and I had hoped that the walk-up on the night would be good.
I thought back to my appearance on the Ray D’Arcy Show on RTÉ 1, my Seven O’Clock Show appearance on TV3 and prayed that someone from Tullamore had seen those interviews and was impressed enough to come along on the night.
The start time for the show was 9.15pm.
It was after 9pm and myself and the promoter were the only two people in the venue. I went to the toilet and was greeted by my own face staring back at me from a poster for the show. I felt like telling myself to piss off.
As the minutes ticked by, the tension grew with the realisation that not many people were going to attend tonight.
What happens? You put on a brave face, keep smiling and try to stay upbeat, but deep down, you are hurting and you feel a little bit stupid.
How could I allow myself to believe that anyone would want to come and see me?
You have all manner of self-doubt and inevitably a bit of self-loathing. Yeah, I’ve done all the major festivals that there are to do and I’ve won Irish Comedian of the Year twice, but it means nothing, absolutely nothing, when you can’t generate enough interest in your own show.
It was 9.15pm and still not one person had come into the room. I thought to myself, "Jayzus, even the people who bought tickets haven’t turned up."
It had maybe gone about 9.17pm when we heard a door open and some laughing and the clinking of glasses. "Thank f**k for that!"
I greeted them all like long lost cousins as they entered.
I think they were slightly taken aback by my enthusiasm to see them. I told them to go inside and that the show would start in due course. I had hoped that more would come, but then it became apparent that this was my lot.
Five people.
Three lads and two girls, all in their 20s and who all sat around one table. I explained that it looked like they would be the only ones at the show and gave them the option of getting their money back or for me to plough on.
To my surprise, they chose the show and not to get their money back.
I braced myself, because any comedian in the world will tell you that it is so much easier to make a big room full of people laugh than it is to impress a small crowd.
In smaller crowds, people are more self-conscious and even if they find something funny, some can be reluctant to laugh for fear of being singled out and mocked by the comedian.
I got into show mode and although I knew this would be tough, I was doubly determined to give these five people a good night. After all, they were the only ones prepared to part with their hard-earned cash and take a punt on me.
We chatted for a while and I got to know their names and we had the craic. Every so often I’d jump to my feet and do a few minutes of stand-up and much to my relief, they went for it and laughed in all the right places. They were laughing and they were laughing loud.
After each block of stand-up, I’d sit back down because they wanted to discuss the material they had heard and why it made them laugh. One of them told me that she was a big stand-up comedy fan and had been to loads of shows, so I asked her who she had seen. I then went on to tell them my experiences of said comedians and told them some stories of gigs I had done with them. I did three blocks of stand-up of about 15-20 minutes each and in between we had chats and a laugh. One or two of them had got up to go to the toilet at different times, but were adamant I didn’t do any material until I got back. At a big show, you ignore people getting up and going to the bar or the toilet, but because each one of them represented 20% of the audience, I was always going to wait until they got back.Had an amazing night last night we went to see @ericlalor the mans a legend, my sides are killing me from laughing??pic.twitter.com/JLgGdZHW8e
— AmyGrimesSuxx | Gaga (@AmyGrimesSuxx) April 16, 2016
There was a moment in the night, about 25 minutes in, when I started to realise that I was enjoying this gig. They were lovely people who were laughing and I was very comfortable chatting and performing for them.
All of a sudden I looked at my watch and realised that I had been there for about an hour and a half.
My show is about an hour long, but between the chats and the stand-up it had stretched to an extra half hour.
If 'time flies when you are having fun,' then this was proof that the old adage is true.
I wrapped up the show and thanked them for coming along and posed for a few pictures with them. It was the very least I could do. I was still flattered that they came and also that they wanted a picture.
The promoter told me that he was determined to get me a crowd in Tullamore and vowed to bring me back in the winter. He told the five people they would be on the guestlist. Again, it was the very least we could do.
What had initially started out as a night of dread and self-loathing turned into one of the most rewarding and enjoyable gigs I have ever done and I cannot thank those people enough for coming along and insisting on seeing the show.
The easy option would have been for them to get their money back and run and, if I am completely honest, I initially hoped that they would.
They didn’t and I am very grateful.
I will soldier on and I will keep trying. Yeah, it’s great to be part of the big fancy comedy festivals or doing the big fancy clubs, but there is something deeply rewarding about dong your own show in front of people who have paid to see you, however small the crowd is.
To the five people in Tullamore who came to the show, I thank you and I look forward to seeing you again in the winter as part of my guestlist.
A gang of legends.
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