28 Acts in 28 Minutes

Fame at last!

I finally recorded my radio comedy debut - all sixty seconds of it - on Monday night, at the Bloomsbury Theatre.

Backstage was a surreal experience - I knew everyone, but no-one knew me. All 28 acts were crammed into a low-slung concrete bunker (about the size of my kitchen) that served as the dressing room: Marcus Brigstocke, Phil Kay, Ed Byrne, Roger McGough, Phil Nichol, Scott Capurro, Rob Rouse, Kevin Day, Rob Deering, Adam Buxton, Punt & Dennis and Nicholas Parsons. Plus loads of others for the recording of the second show at 21h00: Barry Cryer, Adam Bloom, The Constultants, John Hegley, Steve Delaney (aka Count Arthur Strong - listen to his series on Radio 4 at the moment - it's brilliant)and Richard Herring.

(Ooh dear, I appear to have dropped a few names. I'll have my people pick them up in the morning.)

I was so relieved to see someone who recognised me (Waen Shepherd, aka Gary LeStrange) that I surprised him with a large gangly hug.

Of course, by the end of the evening, I was officially best mates with everyone. That is to say, I had a chat with Roger McGough, who was very personable and down to earth. I really like his poetry (who doesn't?), and suddenly found myself wishing I'd swotted up on it beforehand. I told him my brother was a massive fan, and then realised that might have sounded like a back-handed compliment, so busied myself with some crisps. I also discussed the logistics of fitting material into 60 seconds with Adam Bloom, (who was very nice about my song), chewed the cud about property prices with Marcus Brigstocke (who now thinks I'm one of those bores who talk about property prices all the time), and touched the hand of Nicholas Parsons (whose crowning glory that evening was a joke about raping a suffragette - listen out for that in the the 18h30 slot on Radio 4!)

Dan Antopolski gave a splendid set (playing the piano rather brilliantly the bastard), The Hollow Men performed a specially written sketch which they appeared to have knocked up the night before, and rehearsed five minutes beforehand (but it was, naturally, effortlessy slick and funny as always - look out for their forthcoming radio series by the way - and get tickets to the recordings if you can), Ben Willbond put in an appearance as a Polish version of Nicholas Parsons, Justin Edwards rattled off a brilliant song summing up the whole school curriculum in 60 seconds, and DJ Danny Crossed Slim Shady with Lady in Red, to get Slim Shady in Red - genius.

I, as predicted, did a one minute cut-down of my text song, which hit the spot, but apparently lasted 61 seconds (not good). Still, we'll see if it makes it into the show.

Transmission dates are Weds: 21st, 28th June and 5th July, Radio 4, 18h30. If you'd like me to remind you nearer the time, drop me an email: pete@petegold.com

One minute of fame

Well, phase two of the one man show is over. Some good new material. Particularly pleased with the school disco scene which sees me laughed into a quivering blob of jelly by an army of invisible demonic convent school girls. (Not that I believe in comedy as therapy, you understand).

Next on the horizon is the recording of 28 acts in 28 minutes on Monday 27th, at the Bloomsbury Theatre, produced by me old mate Rohan.

I've got a killer one minute song which crams in as much swearing as possible inside a minute (naturally, it's tasteful swearing, and entirely justified by the piece). Unfortunately, not really suitable for a 18h30 slot on Radio 4, where you can no longer even say "Gosh!" in case it offends anyone more than three hundred years old.

So instead, I've been grappling with a new song, called "when do I get my own series?" However, the chances of me finishing it, learning it, and performing it without messing up in front of an audience of several hundred people in three days' time ...

I think I'll just cut one of my old songs in half and sing it really quickly.

Court Jester

So anyway right, I did this gig at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in aid of the charity One Parent Families. I found myself sharing a dressing room with my old friend Silky, Greg Burns, and... Sir Ian McKellen, the latter of whom I managed to bore within a minute.

Greg and I were discussing whether or not anyone was likely to be doing topical material, and I said that I certainly wouldn't, as I try to keep my patter to a minimum, since every time I open my mouth, shit comes out, and oh look some shit just came out then. Sir Ian stood up and made a run for it.

We didn't see him again until an hour or so later, when he realised he'd mislaid his mobile. We set about looking for it, all of us too polite to suggest the obvious course of action: for one of us to ring it (and thereby have Sir Ian's mobile number on our phone - you would store it, wouldn't you?! And then probably show off to your mates by texting him when you were pissed). When someone eventually suggested that course of action, Sir Ian confessed that he couldn't remember his number anyway. I imagine when you're that famous, you must have to change your mobile phone number once a week.

I also met Jo Brand, who was headlining. She was as far removed as It's possible to be from her dark, prickly stage persona. One of the nicest, most down-to-earth comics I've ever met. Quite happy to listen to whatever anyone around her had to say, no matter how banal, with an interested look on her face, and no attempt to judge, or out-funny anyone. Her set was terrific, as was that of Miranda Hart, whom I hadn't seen for ages. I'd never seen her do standup before, and she was extremely splendid; her awkward posh persona the perfect vehicle for her observations about the pretentious middle classes.

Silky was also marvellous, with a very laidback routine, containing the classic joke, "what happens when a Londoner f**ks a Scouser? Birmingham"

My set went okay. Most of the words came out in the right order, people laughed in the right places, and I remained in control of my bowels throughout. It was a buttock-clenching experience, with one part of my brain going "crap, what's the next line?" and another part going "ooh - look at you on stage at the Royal Court!", and a third part of it going "musn't forget to pick up some more milk", and then the other two bits rounding on the third bit and screaming "SHUT UP!"

Then Monday, I played Nice Mum at the Etc Theatre, trying out new bits of my one man show. The Lincoln song went down well, but the inner monologue about whether or not to help a homeless girl in floods of tears was a big sweaty flabby disaster. Still, that's what red pens are for...

Colchester. The Birthplace of Human Settlement in the British Isles

Did a gig in Colchester last weekend, to help raise money for our friend Carrie who's off to learn bushcraft (titter ye not) in Africa.

At the urinal beforehand, the guy next to me says "Oh you're the guy who wrote that London Underground song!"

"Er. Fraid not, I do other songs though".

"Oh man! I brought all me mates to hear the London Underground song". (A quite funny, but artlessly foul-mouthed pastiche of "Going Underground")

So I had to start my set by apologising for not being someone else. Which, actually, is better than my normal opening bit...

Also present were BelCanto, the wife's ever-popular Latin Jazz combo. She and Simone breezed through a dozen numbers like they were in their front room - no nerves, no sweat - every note pitch perfect and gorgeous. It's quite a skill to be that relaxed onstage. It was a great set, and the recording sounds terrific. CDs available soon probably.

Oh yes, and Colchester is in fact the location of the earliest archeological evidence of human settlement in the British Isles. Visit the Colchester Castle Museum to find out more. We did, and tried on hats.