‘Chorley mugs likeably without overplaying’
12 people saw our Edinburgh debut 20 years ago today
“Big Day Out is the kind of quality sketch show that could flourish on word of mouth alone, but it doesn't hurt to give them a quote for next year's poster. And, after such an impressive debut, there surely will be a next year's poster. ☆☆☆☆” The Scotsman
Well we proved them wrong. There was no “next year’s poster”. Haha in your face The Scotsman.
But 20 years ago today we had a lot of fun making that “impressive debut”. Who were the “we”?
I was a 22-year-old entertainment listings sub-editor (worst job I had in journalism, putting the ‘PMs’ on cinema times, but I had plenty of downtime during the day to write sketches/edit posters/book venues).
Also on that tiny stage was Lewis Georgeson, who I’d met in the Taunton media bubble, and was starting out as a TV writer, including on Sky’s Dream Team. And William Kenning, who was at uni with Lewis, and was (is) a trained actor. Together we were Big Day Out, a three-man sketch group.
We’d been performing in rooms above pubs for about 18 months before making the trip to Edinburgh, in search of fame and fortune (or at least not bankruptcy). Making a success of Big Day Out was one of the reason’s I’d moved to London a year before.
We were, as The Scotsman described us, “a short guy, a tall bloke and a ginger in the middle”. Or as Fringe Report spelt it out more literally: “Matt Chorley's the short and cute one, with a smile that combines a certain innocence with a hint of worrying mania. William Kenning is very tall, and tonight has a black, saturnine beard. Lewis Georgeson is exactly their average height, with bright red hair.”
Metro said Will “should immediately be sworn in as this year’s Fringe player who most resembles John Cleese while Lewis Georgeson deadpans well”, adding that ‘Chorley mugs likeably without overplaying’.
An early review complained that we were not exactly reinventing comedy as we know it, which we never promised. It was more Two Ronnies (Three Ronnies?) than Mighty Boosh. But we loved what we were doing and hoped that came across.
Our first show was on August 3 2005. I’ve just found an old blog entry (a blog! in 2005!) from back then:
Well, that's show one out of the way. Had 12 people in, which with no flyering or pre-publicity was pretty good. It means we only need to recoup £6,437 from the remaining 25 shows. Perfick. No major disasters, i couldn't find my wig for one sketch and had a bit of trouble picking up my balls for henman but all went well.
The show began with us dancing in dressing gowns to the brilliant You Gave Me Love by Crown Heights Affair, with me playing the trumpet solo on a kettle while Will and Lewis pretended to shave, flicking shaving foam into the audience. I’m aware that describing sketches is like someone retelling their dream, but at various points I was Michael Stipe from REM writing a journal, a man addicted to dog’s milk, and Tim Henman. I was also only allowed to do the deep bass voice for barbershop renditions of the themes from Knight Rider, Dr Who and Grange Hill. Will was magnificent as a method actor in a pirate radio play, and Lewis shone as a haughty French waiter and inept Welsh life coach Darren Mint. I’m smiling as I type.
The August that unfolded was magnificent. One of the best months of my life. Wake late morning. Hit the streets flyering. Do the show at 4.45pm. Finish 5.40pm. Catch some other rival (better?) shows. Then go carousing till the early hours. And repeat.
We got lucky with our flat. A four or five bedroom affair borrowed from some students. Dear friends from across the country came and stayed. They could either flyer for us or pay. Everyone flyered. (Except my friend from Taunton who is now my wife.)
Then very late on August 17 the three of us were scattered across Edinburgh. Will half-heartedly checked the early editions of the papers (remember when that was thing?) and low and behold, a review from The Scotsman. A good review too. Four stars! “A Gem Of A Sketch Show.”
Somehow we co-ordinated (on SMS text?) and headed to Wetherspoons where we drank Champagne until the early hours. Actually I now read from the old blog that “admittedly I was alternating between Champagne and Taunton-made cider”. That’s youth for you.
(See also: “Big boozy meal with the whole house last night - dinner then late night red wine in Brookes Bar - The Pleasance watering hole for performers. Rolled in at nearly 5am this morning.”) 5am. Dear god.
And then we sold out. For the rest of the fun. That was the power of a four-star review. Happy days. No more flyering. More lie-ins.
There were moments of drama along the way: a bag of props went missing; an evacuation for a fire alarm mid-show; being told we might be on the very longlist for the Perrior comedy newcomer award, only to not make the tiny bit shorter list.
Other memories: Steven Merchant tried to get tickets to our show but couldn’t because we’d sold out. Sitting near Barry Cryer during the premiere of The Aristocrats. Taking part in a late-night showcase where we had just a few minutes on stage, but we got to talk to the more-successful three-man sketch group We Are Klang, consisting of Steve Hall, Marek Larwood and some bloke called Greg Davies. Another late-night showcase where I might have been a bit drunk and a bit rubbish. Sorry boys.
Seeing other people posting about their Edinburgh shows this year, and every year, always beings up pang of jealously and regret at not being there. And then I remember how cripplingly expensive it is, and how much older we are, and feel almost like going back with sully what we did in 2005.
Writing this has brought up tiny fragments of memories that I had clean forgotten. My overall impression though is that there was literally nothing better than standing on stage with two great mates/men making other people laugh.
This is what I wrote on the last day:
“It’s been a struggle, at times an expensive one, often a stressful one, but somehow Lewis, Will and I created a show that people wanted to come and see, to tell their friends about and in many cases get in touch with us. But to all the people who made the trip over the border and searched us out in our cosy little venue, thank you. To all the people who sent messages of support, thank you. And to all our friends, family and loved ones who have not seen enough of us, felt ignored in place of larking about with hats and dresses, listened to us talking endlessly about the intricacies of our inter-sketch politics, thank you, thank you, thank you. It’s been an amazing, emotional, funny, tiring, hungover, painful, unforgettable experience, but we have one more show to do before, I fear, it’s back to the real world.”
And it was. We all got proper jobs and proper girlfriends and the real world intervened to mean there was no next year’s poster. We never went back to the fringe. We carried on performing for a couple more years before packing the props away.
But more importantly we remain great friends, and last New Year’s Eve we got together, with wives and children, and put on silly hats and played silly games and drank too much and stayed up too late. Just like the old days. And I still love it. And them.
Still messing about on stage
Big Day Out might still be resting, but Will and Lewis gave invaluable advice, jokes and prop suggestions for my new stand-up show Making A Meal Of It. The countdown is on for the big London West End show. Monday November 10. Tickets are selling well.