Downey's Diary

If you love comedy go to the Edinburgh festival. If you have an open mind go to the Edinburgh festival. If you’re an alcoholic and you want to be less conspicuous go to the Edinburgh festival. If you want to visit a beautiful city and relax, go to Edinburgh but not during the festival. Edinburgh is also a breathtaking city and the festival is breathtaking. All you need to survive is oxygen, money and stamina.

This was to be my first visit to the festival and on top of that I was lucky enough to be a finalist in the BBC New Comedy awards and also a semi- finalist in the Channel 4 So You Think You’re Funny competition. I’m sure on the plane over I looked like the cat that got the cream, the mouse and some fluffy thing that entertained it for hours, or maybe that was the valium. We arrived on the Sunday and on the Monday we had the BBC final. Ross Noble was our host for the evening and if you haven’t seen Ross you haven’t seen improvised comedy at it’s best. I was on sixth out of nine and I went out on stage and delivered my routine with as much confidence as I could muster but unfortunately that was all I did. I forgot to smile, I forgot to move and if it wasn’t necessary to my existence I’m sure I would have forgotten to breath. Needless to say the result reflected this and the prizes went to Alan Carr, Justin Moorhouse and Des Clarke. You can see the show for yourself on BBC 1 on September 14th. The party afterwards was a blast, free booze, free food and you couldn’t have spat without drenching some celebrity of some lesser or greater degree. I should point out that I didn’t spit on any of them.

On the Wednesday night I had the Channel 4 semi-final and it went swimmingly. I managed to exorcise the BBC ghosts and I had a ball. That meant I was coming back to Edinburgh for the final but in the meantime I had three days just to enjoy the city courtesy of the BBC and the fact that they had to rent the apartment I was staying in for at least seven days. You can’t rent for any shorter period during the festival.

For a newcomer to comedy these days were a real eye opener. Comedians at the festival, slog their guts out for the entire month. Most people would accept that miners work hard but a miner who also delivered the coal and lit the fire for you would still be a dosser compared to these laughter merchants. There is street entertainment everywhere along with people in all manners of costumes trying to convince you that your pound would be better spent on their show. Going down the Royal Mile you can bump into a knife juggler, a person dressed as a sheep and a fire eater all in the space of a couple of feet. I’m sure if I searched hard enough I could have bumped into a sheep juggling knives and eating fire.

But to me the festival was mostly about comedy and I saw some exceptional stuff. I don’t think, in fact I know, that I haven’t laughed as consistently at a show as I did at Anne and Kevin Gildea’s “ A Nonsense of Ireland “. These siblings were in top form and with their combination of quality writing and effortless hilarious ad libing I was left wishing the comedy gods had blessed me half as much as this pair. “ The best value for your comedy pound at the festival has to be the notorious late’n’live venue. Here the hecklers are the stars unless the acts can prove otherwise. You are always guaranteed to see some of the cream of the festival with the added bonus, if you’re of a sadistic nature, of seeing some starry eyed hopeful go down in flames. I was left wondering why anyone who wasn’t a seasoned veteran would want to play there, I’m sure none of the Christians ever asked to appear at the coliseum. It was here that I saw Perrier nominee Daniel Kitson. Funny down to the very marrow of his bone. If they could do comedy transplants I’d be first in the queue.

At the end of a week I had to go home and return to work until the Channel 4 final. I wasn’t too disappointed, I was exhausted and I’d only done two gigs. I left convinced that performing at the festival for a month would never be for me. Or so I thought. By the second day home I was missing the madness. I couldn’t wait to get back and considering that in the intervening week I did my worse gig to date to the most ill mannered audience I have ever had the misfortune to perform in front of I was on a mission.

I went back to Edinburgh on the day of the Channel 4 determined to do a better set than I had done at the BBC final. That was all that mattered. This final had a more relaxed atmosphere and the audience was much more receptive so it all helped. Graham Norton was our host and all I can say is that he was so Graham Norton. He was as nice as a pie with nice things in it.

The judges made their decision and I was awarded joint third place ironically having to share this prize with the

winner of the BBC final. The organisers did not appreciate my suggestion of a fight to decide on a definitive third place but it was worth a try. The very deserving winner was Miles Joop as the most upper crust condescendingly amusing character you are ever likely to see. The party afterwards was great fun. I was more excited about meeting revered comedians than my minor triumph. I met Steve Coogan for fuck’s sake, he’d been a judge during the final. The place was saturated with comedians: Graham Fellows, Dave Gorman, Johnny Vegas and Adam Bloom to name a few that I can remember before the free Channel 4 booze took hold. But it was a great end to my festival.

For everyone else, all I can say is, Edinburgh, there’s nowhere like it.