My Most Hostile Crowd at a Stand-Up Gig

Given the ‘slap that was heard around the world’ at the Oscars this week, where Comedian Chris Rock was slapped by Scientologist Will Smith for making a joke at his wife’s expense, it reminded me of my worst ever stand-up gig where we also had an angry punter storm the stage due to an offended wife.

Circa 1998 or 1999 (can’t remember which) I get employed to do stand-up at the Ballarat Bikers Association Dinner.  $400 for a couple of hours work was a lot of money to a Drama Student & Aspiring Actor who was living on the pittance that was Austudy.  Because I was so young I was still relatively inexperienced doing Stand-Up in front of larger crowds, so employed a musician acquaintance of mine to play some songs between my sets.  I looked at my existing material and tried to roughen it up as best I could, thinking that a room full of Bikers are going to expect lots of dirty jokes and swearing.

We pack up the 82’ Gemini with music equipment and some basic costume changes for me (I used to do a few characters back then) and drive the 90 minutes to the gig.  Walk into the venue feeling relatively confident…

…. and stop.

Everything from the get-go was wrong.  Everything.  The guy that booked me obviously didn’t have a friggin clue what he was doing!

First off the venue was not set up for stand up comedy.  It was a long narrow hall with two rows of long tables and chairs going along its length and a small stage at one end.  This meant that no one was actually facing the stage, they all were facing each other in the direction of either the centre of the room or conversely the side walls.  No one wants to crane their neck to the side for half an hour at a time even for the best comedian, let alone an unknown like me.  And even if you had punters that were willing to do so, it would mean they would be further blocking the view of the people behind them.  This was a room designed for dining, not watching.

Secondly the average age of the Bikers was deceased. These were all bikers who were likely there when the first ever motorcycle rolled off the assembly line.  And they all had their wives with them!  The sketches I had written were to amuse big-bellied, bigger-bearded bikers who would likely eat a beer bottle after drinking its contents, not octogenarian ladies who had given up an evening of watching reruns of A Country Practice to come out for a meal.

I hastily rewrite everything in my head.  Grab a couple of my character scripts and start frantically crossing out expletives and sex jokes.  I then take the stage…

… nobody cared!  Nobody listened.  A few heads briefly looked up, clocked me as someone a quarter their age and therefore easily dismissed, then looked down again.  Everyone is busy eating their first course and even with a mic you can barely hear me over the sound of cutlery on plates and old duffers telling each other stories about their corns & bunions.  I’d be willing to bet 90% of the crowd never even realized I took the stage.

I finish my first set to nary a single applaud and dismount the stage.  The musician I hired mounts the stage to play a few filler songs so I can get changed into a character costume, even though at this point it seems like it will be a wasted effort.  And then…

… everything goes really wrong.

To this day I don’t know how the musician could have been so stupid.  You learn early on in showbusiness to read a crowd and this was a crowd of old people only interested in having a meal and catching up with their friends, they were not interested in entertainment, unless it was someone like Slim Dusty.  I already had it in my head to simply plough through, collect the cash and get out of there, writing the evening off as a learning experience.  This idiot however had decided he was going to get the crowds attention no matter what, so starts playing his guitar really loudly and not singing but yelling into the mic.

Just as I was about to signal him to tone it down and simply play some instrumental for people to listen to while they talk, the fool says into the mic “Why aren’t you f*ckers listening?!  Do I need to start having a wank up here or something?!”.

Now the audience is paying attention.  And they are not happy.  This moron is treating the night like he’s performing in front of a Uni pub crowd, not a bunch of senior citizens.  He continues to carry on until a big old fella storms up on stage and angrily rips the power cord out of the speakers, glares at all of us and stomps off.  Meanwhile another old bloke is yelling at us for swearing in front of his wife.  I try to placate him with apologies as best I can while angry stares from around the room laminate me to the back wall.

Needless to say we did not go up on stage again.  Somehow I still managed to get the money for the gig from the suitably embarrassed looking guy who booked me, then we load up the car for the drive back to Melbourne.  The idiot musician is crapping on in the car about artistic integrity and what was he supposed to do – I just hand him his $50 cut and tell him to shut up.  The remainder of the drive is done in silence.

So yeah, I didn’t get slapped like Chris Rock but we certainly offended a few patron’s wives and there was a sense of anger & potential violence in the air.  I suppose I can take solace in the fact none of them will still be coming for me 24 years later, for if any of them haven’t yet passed on their bones would by now be too brittle to even lift a cup of tea, let alone gather up pitchforks and flaming torches.

The two morals of the story? 

If on stage read the crowd, get a sense of what will fly and what wont.  Be prepared for angry husbands if thinking of saying something that may offend somebody’s wife.

If you are in the crowd, appreciate the fact the comedian got hired to do a specific job – amuse & entertain – if you don’t like it then maybe blame the people who employed them to do that job, rather than going up like a self-important idiot and slapping someone.

The Tale of Toby – from Phallus to Family Member