Carrot and sticks

I tried out my "rabbit walks into a bar" joke for the first time this evening. Not on the crowd (which was packed at the club) but on one of the other comedians afterwards. There's a good five minutes at least of blethering there, possibly all sabotaged by the terrible punchline. But I think it could work.

Not as stand-up, perhaps, but performed in some context. Perhaps I'll video it and just have it as some sort of showcase of needless egoism. And blethering.

There were a bunch of Danish women, who were proud of having all met while having breast augmentation operations. I should have told them they could have them done cheaper in Shenzhen (complete with a 2 week warranty) but forgot to. Ah, the great near misses of comedy.

Still, a good crowd. Nobody responded to my probing on relationships, but I got round that by accusing a ginormous Russian of bringing a prostitute's madam to the club with him, and then fleeing the stage before I could be pounded to death by a huge pair of Stakhanovite hands.

Everyone got a lot of laughs - I felt like the pause between hilarity, although my Chinese restaurant joke closed on a stormer. Forgot to mention Bhatti bar as the place to be to meet zany, kerazy comedy types afterwards - perhaps good, because four of us spent twenty minutes riffing on the "that's what she said"/"in bed"/"my cock, more like"/"your mom" reductionist comedy staples. It wasn't pleasant to watch. In bed. With your mom.

That's what she said.