Before I was a wedding celebrant, I was telling giggles up on stage.
I can still remember my first ever stand-up gig like it was yesterday.
Truth be told - and excuse my language, but I have to be real - I was shitting my pants. I was shitting my pants the entire week up to it.
I worked up the courage to book a spot on a whim at a place called Station 59. This place was an institution: Was being the keyword. It’s not there anymore. If you walked in there on a Tuesday night, you might stumble upon a future comedy superstar.
More likely, you’d come across a newbie still trying to find their way (me), or a junkie coming off last night’s binge (not me).
Just a few days before, I was scrambling to write some material that could fill three minutes. Two minutes. Geez, 30 seconds would do on that stage.
I bought Wil Anderson comedy specials in the hope that I would somehow dive into some sort of comedic material gold nirvana.
I didn’t. And I don’t even like Wil Anderson that much (30 bucks for two DVDs was a lot back then).
The big night arrived and I was absolutely unprepared. But who is prepared for their first ever stand-up comedy gig on a dingy stage in East Richmond?
I started making the journey over from my dump of an apartment in Windsor and, as per my nervous response system, had to stop off at work in Burnley to hit the toilet.
I got to the venue early and found out that I would be in the second half of the night. That meant waiting through an onslaught of absolute slop comedy and heckles from the seven people that were there (including the actual comedians themselves).
I’m not proud to admit this, but I was so nervous that I just started downing pints of Heineken like they were cordial to a seven-year-old. I had seven pints before I got up on stage.
You might think that would’ve taken the edge off the nerves. It didn’t.
Finally, my name was called and I made my way from the bar up to the stage. Something rather curious happened. I had the weird urge to touch people on the shoulder as I was walking up.
Was I trying to soak up their energy? Did I somehow think I could change spots with them by touching them? No idea. It was weird, arrestable behaviour.
I finally got up there. The lights did burn. My retinas are still hurting to this day, and I’m pretty sure it affected the laser surgery I attempted to get several years later.
A Celebrant Comedian… me!
I commenced… and pretty much bumbled my way through. I could always speak up on stage. There was never an issue. Saying something cohesive to make strangers laugh with absolutely no context whatsoever? Another deal entirely.
There is something about being in that moment that is totally surreal. You hope you’re prepared enough to be able to get through. And although I mentioned before that I didn’t do a whole lot of preparation, that’s not entirely true. I did the best I could.
Several minutes went by. There were a few chuckles. Maybe one or two at best. But really, for the most part, it was just me boming around on stage with no structure to my jokes or any substance to my stories.
That was until right at the end.
I pulled out a joke about an old football nickname. I won’t go into it here. It was pretty crass. And here’s the thing - it wasn’t even my nickname. Sacrilegious I know.
But something happened. It got a laugh. A pretty genuine laugh too, and you can bet your arse that I used that joke constantly throughout the rest of my stand-up career. It was my latch. I started every gig with it.
Honestly, it couldn’t have gone any better. I mean, I could’ve gotten more laughs, but the fact that I did it was something that I’ve always hung my hat on.
A young kid after the show was shocked when I told him that it was my first time up on stage. This added to the aura of the night, and I basically walked on clouds back to the car.
Now, should I have driven back home given my alcohol content? If there are any police officers reading, I was definitely under the limit. I promise.
That moment sparked something. I continued doing stand-up comedy for another two years before transitioning into weddings. Of course, that’s another blog entirely. I’ll be sure to write it soon.
But the fact that I did that night - it was my crowning achievement. Sure, it was in front of three people. But it didn’t matter. I was proud of what I had achieved, and I hadn’t really been proud of anything prior to that.
And that attitude and spark that resulted from that night has permeated throughout everything that I’ve done since. That sounds a little bit wanky, but it’s definitely true.
That was a long time ago now, and I am approximately 3000% better on stage than I was as that humble rookie. I don’t ever get nervous doing weddings. I love it.
So that’s my first ever night of comedy. You’ve got this far — well done. And if you want to have a chat, feel free to do so here.