Life and Laughing_ My Story - Michael McIntyre [102]
The night before my first gig, I couldn’t sleep with excitement, I was raring to go. I cobbled together all my jokes and just about had an hour’s worth. I also had a lot of untried ideas about Edinburgh from my days as a student. My main worry, however, was who I was going to tell these jokes to. My pre-sales for the Festival were one ticket. Just one person had bought a ticket to see me; and it was a 2-for-1 deal. This one person couldn’t even convince someone else to come with him for free.
The poster from my first Edinburgh show in 2003 that enticed precisely one person to buy a ticket, and it was a 2-for-1 deal. The quote from the Sun was made-up.
The omens were not good, but when showtime came I got a few last-minute bookings and had an audience of about thirty, thanks mainly to the 2-for-1 deal. The Scots love a bargain. I also benefited from the overspill from sold-out shows like Jimmy Carr and Dara Ó Briain in Pleasance One.
I opened the show commenting on all the Scots who had shown up simply because of the 2-for-1. I impersonated them booking the tickets in my pretty decent Scottish accent, and they lapped it up. I also made jokes about Scottish money, how they had their own money, but not their own currency. I would impersonate the business news on Scottish TV: ‘The exchange rate remains stable at one pound to the pound.’
My adrenaline helped me have a successful first few nights, but when the 2-for-1 offer ended and the tickets went to full price, I started to struggle to attract an audience of more than ten, not enough to put on a show and create anything like an atmosphere. I had some awful gigs, getting no laughs at all. I even had people walk out, halving the audience.
My only hope to increase my audience was to receive some positive reviews for my show. With hundreds of comedy shows, the competition to get a journalist to see your show is fierce. I employed a PR girl, but unfortunately she was useless. The first time I spoke to her, I knew things probably weren’t going to work out.
‘Hi, it’s Michael,’ I said.
‘Michael who?’ she replied in her Mancunian accent.
‘Michael McIntyre.’
‘Michael … Macin-tower,’ she said, trying to place me.
‘McIntyre. You’re doing my PR,’ I said, wondering how it was possible that the person in charge of publicizing me hadn’t managed to publicize me to herself.
‘Oh yes, of course. Hiya, love. What are you up to?’ she then said like we were old friends.
‘I’m performing a show at the Edinburgh Festival,’ I said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
‘Brilliant, I should come and see that, shouldn’t I? I’ll check my diary and try to squeeze it in.’ This was horrifying. She was supposed to be getting the press to see me, and she could barely book herself to see me.
‘What about the newspapers?’ I pushed.
‘I’ve got them,’ she said, nonchalantly.
Thank God, I thought. She does know what she’s doing. She’s booked some journalists to my show. I’ll find out the dates and make sure those are my best gigs.
‘Which ones? When?’ I said, my excitement building.
‘All of them. This morning. We get the papers every day to see if there’s anything in them about the comedians.’
‘Oh right,’ I said, deflated, realizing she was referring to having bought the newspapers. ‘Was there anything in them?’
‘Not today, but it’s early days yet, don’t panic,’ she said.
‘I think you should try and get the papers to see my show, the Times, the Guardian, the Independent, I’m seeing reviews in them every day. Reviews of new comics like me playing at the Pleasance. Can’t we get them to come to my show?’ I said, reminding her of her job description.
‘What a good idea!’ she said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
A few days later she called me back.
‘Fantastic news!’ she said, ‘I’ve got the Guardian.’
‘Wonderful, when?’ I said.
‘The nineteenth, to Gina’s show,’ she proudly announced, referring to Gina Yashere, another comedian she was doing PR for at the Festival.
‘Do you think