I was performing my act at a regular monthly comedy night. The night comprised mostly of character comedy and sketches. There was one small, angry Glaswegian lesbian who was…well, she was ok, if a little aggressive. She did deal with a drunken heckler* rather well though. But apart from her, there had been no other stand ups on the bill. I’m not a big fan of the stand up discipline myself. I often find it ‘in your face’, moany, very male dominated and often quite harsh. There are, of course, a few exceptions to this – Stewart Lee and Josie Long are among a handful of acts I would pay to see – but generally speaking I wouldn’t plan my evening around an event at the Comedy Store.

This night was different though. There was something in the air. Rhys Darby was headlining. He’s a kiwi comic who lived in the UK for 4 or 5 years, steadily working his way round the comedy circuit; making annual appearances at the Edinburgh Fringe until finally he made it to Hollywood. He plays a prominent role in The Flight of the Conchords – a cult TV comedy show that has taken the Internet by storm and has been a buzz word amongst comedians for the past year or so.

I had seen a couple of episodes of that show but didn’t really know what to expect from his solo work. In short, he was brilliant, amazing and as a friend said afterwards, ‘beautiful’. There was no ego attached to this man. No ‘Look at me, I’m showing off!’ What he was doing looked effortless. His material was original, entertaining and sharply executed. His act consisted of stunning sound effects with a very physical delivery. There was just so much to take in and I think that’s what made it for me; the sounds, the movement, the material. I stood for the entire 40 minutes beaming like a fool and when he finished I was speechless. His act changed the way I view stand ups and comedy.

Comedy doesn’t have to be racist, sexist, rude or political to get a reaction. It can simply be gentle, observational, harmless fun and can get just as many laughs, be just as hilarious. Like most comics, Darby has been performing the same material for years, but it’s his familiarity with the material and the slickness of his delivery that make him stand out. Proof that if you put the work in, eventually you will reap the rewards.

Watching a stand up perform new material can sometimes be quite a painful experience, but regardless of how cringeful it is, for the practitioner it’s invaluable. The only way to truly know whether your act is funny or not is to perform it in front of a live audience. You then discover what works, what can be cut, what needs tweaking. Practice makes perfect and once you’ve found that your material does (hopefully) work, you can really start to enjoy your time on stage.

Being comfortable with your subject matter and knowing it inside out gives you the freedom to play around with your delivery, your comic timing and sets you up, ready to tackle those drunken hecklers or, on a more positive note, affords you the time and space to ad lib and have fun with your audience. All these factors were present in Darby’s performance. He knew exactly what we wanted and delivered it spot on.

I don’t know whether I will get the opportunity again to see him in that kind of environment – a small pub theatre of about 70 people – but if you ever see his name on the bill of a comedy night near you, I highly recommend you go along and check out his beautiful comedy.

* The drunken heckler was a woman. In my, albeit small and limited, experience of the comedy world I have noticed that the drunken hecklers who seem to ruin a show are women. They seem to think that alcohol has given them super human powers that make their normal voices a whisper and have no qualms about starting up a conversation with the person sat next to them, behind them or even on stage in front of them!

‘I’m frightened by the devil but I’m drawn to those who ain’t afraid’ (Joni Mitchell, A case of you.)

I went to the theatre last night and after the first act I cried. I wasn’t supposed to be crying. It was comedy.

I am permanently on the lookout for women on the comedy circuit and I rarely find them so when I do it’s always a great treat. Last night was particularly hopeful because I went to see a comedy sketch show that was dominated by women. Out of the 8 acts that were on, 7 of them were women. ‘Fantastic’ I thought to myself – ‘This is where all the women in comedy have been hiding and I get to see them all in one sitting’

Unfortunately what I sat through was so bad it made me cry. I couldn’t believe that for 50 minutes I didn’t laugh once. I didn’t even crack a smile. Ladies what are you doing to me? I am rapidly losing faith in this business of comedy that I love so much because as an audience member I’m not seeing anything that’s inspiring me and as a writer I can’t think of anything funny to write. I have severe writer’s block.

I am currently part of a comedy double act (male and female) that I do all the writing for and I enjoy very much. I never tire of writing characters for my partner, Reedy, and myself. It comes naturally to me as I love looking at the relationship between a man and a woman and exploring the different angles, emotions, situations I can throw at them. My next adventure, however, is to go solo. To stand on stage alone, in front of an audience I don’t know and make them laugh…actually at this moment in time just to see them smile would do. But I am struggling with my subject matter. I like to write characters and situations that appeal to both men and women. Unisex topics. With a female character on her own though, I am finding it difficult as I don’t have a male character to bounce off, to spar with, to tone down the oestrogen levels! Last night we were bombarded with jokes about periods, dating, babies, make – up. Other issues that regularly pop up with female comics (not all but most) are marriage, reaching 30, men, gaining weight, sex, men, keeping fit, getting dumped, men… COME ON GIRLS! Surely this can’t be all we have to talk about? As assertive, funny women, who are taking their careers in their hands, there must be something else that occupies our minds? As a 29 year old, single woman, yes, these are all issues that affect my life – they are worrying, inevitable and downright annoying. However, when I go to the theatre for entertainment and escapism I do not wish to be faced with them again.

Am I alone in my thinking? Do women want to hear about these subjects because they can relate to them? Do men really find it funny to hear about our failures in the dating game? Or am I just making excuses and stalling so that I can prolong the agony of standing on stage on my own? Perhaps I am continually searching for these women in comedy because, like Joni Mitchell says ‘I’m frightened by the devil, but I’m drawn to those who ain’t afraid’

I’ll never know really until I try. Until I have performed that first gig in front of an unfamiliar audience and truly found out whether, what I think is funny, works. On an all too regular basis I moan to a friend of mine about the quality of female comics (actually I moan about comedy in general) on the circuit and how I could do much better. His response back is always the same, worded slightly differently each time, but none the less he tells me that they’re the ones out there doing it, putting themselves up to be judged and criticised so until I pluck up the courage to actually do it myself, I should respect them for trying.

Well, I am trying to respect them for trying but I’m finding it extremely trying myself. There’s only so much unfunny comedy I can take! So this is a plea to all you ladies out there who are writing their own material and performing it on stage. Show me something different. Please. Let’s see some new ideas. Steer clear from the clichéd notion that all women talk about is men, menstruating and marriage (even if we do!) and let’s wow the audience with exciting and innovative female characters.

I have included myself in that plea and I promise I shall be bursting onto a stage near you very soon with a character that will hopefully have you rolling in the aisles and will have nothing to do with babies, boobs or boys!

We were supposed to have 6 and a half hours for our get in. ‘Well, that’s great’ I thought to myself. We can get used to the space, do a cue-to-cue run, practice our dance and have a full technical run through. Perfect. Lights up at 7.30pm and we’d be well and truly ready.

‘I’m sorry, there’s been a mix up and your get in is at 5.30pm’ the Theatre told us.

5.30PM! What? How can that be…What about the….FIVE THIRTY? That gave us two hours – Just two hours to cram everything in and come up smelling of roses at 7.30pm. And we did. Well…it was more fear mixed with a bit of sweat than roses, but we got the job done because we had to. You work with what you’re given in Fringe Theatre and that’s what I love about it. You don’t have the luxury of big, impressive sets or fancy lighting to hide behind. Stages are often tiny and you almost end up sitting on the audience’s lap in most venues; but this is where I thrive because after all the ‘decoration’ is taken away, what remains is the essence of the work. Up, close and personal. What you’ve written, directed or what you’re performing has to make up for this lack of support.

The theatre company that I co-founded produces regular work on the London Fringe. I am not able to pay my actors (they do it, like me, for the love of it), I have no money to buy lots or props or to construct an elaborate set and I have to rely on favours from friends for the technical side of things. Therefore my work has to stand out as being the most impressive part of the production and this is why, I believe, you find some of the most original, entertaining and experimental theatre of today on the London Fringe.

My most recent show, me and him, currently on at the Hen and Chickens Theatre in Islington, was performed to an audience of just 8. Eight expectant faces and I knew every single of them. Granted, this is not a huge problem, but considering my two-person sketch show is a comedy, obviously the more laughs we get the better. I don’t think I’ve ever had to work harder. Absolute concentration was paramount because all that was going through my head was:

‘Oh my sister’s over there…and I can see Tim…Why is no one laughing? How much money will I owe the theatre? There’s Sue at the back etc.’

But once I’d got over the initial shock of feeling like I was doing a skit in my living room for 8 of my friends, I threw myself wholeheartedly into this 52 minute piece of work that Reedy and I find hilarious and have a lot of faith in. Nevertheless, 8 people is actually quite a good audience compared to what we first started out with, 6 years ago. Reedy and I were part of another company, Tigco, that at the moment is playing to packed houses with their comedy series, Tuesdays, at another London Fringe venue – Lowdown at the Albany.

Wasn’t always the case though.

We once did a show to one-person….and she was the girlfriend of one of the cast members! Funny looking back now but at the time it was heartbreaking for us naive, young dreamers who thought that because we’d put so much time and effort and energy into it surely we’d sell out. We think it’s amazing so everyone else will…right?

However, all was not lost and I did come away with something that night. Adam Riches, Founder of Tigco, taught me that it doesn’t matter how much money you lose, how many people were in your audience or how small you may feel, as long as you learn something from the experience and you apply it to your next production then you haven’t lost out on anything. In fact you’ve gained something because what you learn creatively will be far more rewarding than making a profit or having a full house. If you’re out there doing it, trying, then that’s half the battle. Like someone said to me recently

‘You are in the 2% minority of this world that are doing what they truly want and that in itself is success’

I feel very lucky to be part of that 2%.

So what I’m trying to say is come and support the little people; those of us at the margins who are trying to live our dreams. Dare to venture out into the dodgy little fringe theatres, the rooms above pubs that are dotted all around London. Performances may not be extremely slick or hi-tech. You may never have heard of the company you’re watching. You may be crammed into a tiny, sweaty theatre that forgets to tell you to turn your mobile phone off, where the air conditioning is so loud that you sporadically miss a minute’s worth of dialogue, but like I said before you will be watching some of the most original, entertaining and experimental theatre of today – out there on the London Fringe.