On the wings of the Fringe

Ever ready for adventure, CHRISTIANE O'MAHONYpacks her jokes and heads for Edinburgh

IT’S 11AM on a drizzly Thursday morning. I stand at the bottom of the Royal Mile. Rucksack on back, map in hand, lost. A man in six-inch heels and a leotard totters over to me. “Fancy some Shakespeare in drag at the Underbelly? You’ll get a free breakfast too.” I may not be able to get directions, but I will be able to find a show to fit any fetish.

With 2,464 shows covering every performance genre, it would be hard not to. The city heaves with performers and it quickly becomes a competition to be the loudest, most outrageous, most innovative. Having had no sleep, I find exhaustion and performance anxiety does not a merry mix make in this carnival town.

Armed with nine-and-half minutes of jokes and a suitcase covering every weather eventuality, I wonder should I have brought a crazy costume? Would a period wig or fish nets sell my show more effectively? I am braving the Edinburgh Festival Fringe for the first time. I have signed up for a 10-minute slot of stand-up comedy in a show entitled Tales told by Idiotsalong with three other friends.

It was a dark night in early January last, as I sat at home despairing the lack of acting work and pondering what New Year’s resolutions might improve my situation, when I decided to return to a bit of stand-up comedy. Two summers ago I graduated from drama school and as a dare to myself I did a stand-up gig. I thought it would make me braver as a performer, and make auditions easier. But then, there simply aren’t that many auditions out there for jobbing actors in Dublin and the DIY approach to stand-up comedy appealed.

I have been gigging around Dublin on and off for the last six months, but still find it petrifying. My last three pre-Edinburgh gigs seemed to embody all that might go right and wrong in the month of the festival: I die once; I have great success once (winning the yellow duck at the Battle of the Axe in the Hal’penny); and one gets cancelled. Perhaps this is the best preparation I could ask for. It is such a gamble, one night the crowd might howl laughing at a joke and the next night not a peep out of them.

I am doing it on the cheap, staying with friends outside the city (a lovely refuge from festival mania). We are part of the PBH Free Fringe programme, which means our show is free, but people might throw a pound or two into our bucket at the end. These donations and a £6-an-hour flyering job for another show will be my lunch and pints money for the next three weeks.

I am up for an adventure. Whatever happens, the momentum of the Fringe will surely help to keep the success or failure of my 10-minute slot in perspective. So speaks the rational person within me. On the day of our first gig, I’ve been flyering earnestly on the Royal Mile. We have a decent crowd of 12, but they are all friends of our MC. My set doesn’t go down so well; a few laughs, but some of my material that had been going well in Dublin flops. The worst part of dying on stage is not the 10 minutes itself, but the hours afterwards when you cringe at your loss of dignity. Then you pick yourself up and do it again.

Day two goes much better. Just before the gig we go to see the joyful and inspiring Josie Long’s show Being Earnest. We hit the street outside our venue just before the show: a much more productive marketing strategy. It’s 9pm, people are looking for a drink and we can offer free comedy and cheap booze at our venue. We get a great crowd of 30 or so. My set goes down well. I feel relieved.

On day three, I meet up with a friend to tweak my set a few hours before the gig. We end up taking a lot of the jokes apart without really putting them back together. So I go onstage feeling much less confident in my material.

The other comedians in my show are two performance poets and another female stand-up, who is particularly wonderful. I am the least experienced and least confident of us, but the others are supportive, I feel inspired by their energy, confidence and commitment to their craft.

With a few gigs under my belt, my nerves have settled somewhat and I feel more at home with the audience. Now the real playing can begin.

Christiane O’Mahony is an actor/musician/wedding harpist; christiane omahony. com