I’m often asked about my biggest bomb ever. Problem is, after over twenty years of doing this, I’ve bombed so many times that it’s hard to pick a favourite. A year into my career for instance, I did a show for 8 other comics inside a fellow comedian’s basement apartment. The booker of the show/tenant told me that if I started going over my time, she’d light me by opening her fridge door. I tanked so hard that I only did about 3 minutes and then awkwardly sat back down on her couch with the rest of the other losers. While I was upset by my performance, at least I didn’t have to decide whether the booker was making a beeline to fridge since I’d gone long or was actually just in the mood for a sandwich. That was a terrible show for sure, but I’ve done thousands of terrible shows now. Why just two weeks ago, I performed in an old folks home at 4:15pm on a Tuesday afternoon in front of TV that one of the orderlies insisted “had to be left on.” As I stared out at a sea of glassy-eyed faces, I thought to myself “You didn’t need $400 this badly, Jeff.”
While it’s hard to pinpoint my biggest bomb, one crowd stands out above all the rest as the strangest group of people I’ve ever performed for. Allow me to introduce you to the citizens of Madoc, Ontario.
Some backstory first – about 5 years into our respective comedy careers, Graham Chittenden and I found ourselves co-featuring a ton of one nighters together. Co-featuring is when two comics each do a longer set (usually 35 minutes) and decide amongst themselves who should close the show. (For club weekends you switch back and forth.) At the time, I thought the office always co-featured us together because they thought our acts complimented one another’s. Looking through my old gigs sheets though, it’s become clear to me the reason we worked together so much was because no self-respecting headliner would do a show for the amount of money they offered to pay me and Graham combined.
The two of us did a slew of brutal road gigs. We once performed during the Erin Fall Fair Talent Show while the judges took a half hour break to tabulate their votes. I don’t know what took them so long. There were only three acts on the talent show – Tantrum – a group of preteens and the eventual winners – who lip-synched “Black in Back”, a teenager who karate kicked boards to smithereens and a middle-aged man who sang “The Streets of Bakersfield.”
The Erin Fall Fair Talent Show was the oddest gig we did together. That is until Graham and I foolishly agreed to co-feature a Canada Day celebration in Madoc, Ontario.
Graham and I pulled up in front of a community centre in downtown Madoc where we were met by the sight of three people smoking on the front steps of the building. There was a biker, a frumpy lady wearing a leopard print dress, and a guy in a cowboy hat holding a Ziploc bag filled to the brim with native cigarettes.
“Fuck.” Graham said.
“Yep.” I replied.
We parked the car and hopped out to greet our adoring public.
“Are you the comics?” The biker asked us.
“Ya, that’s us.”
“Really, ‘cause you sure don’t look funny!” The biker replied.
Graham didn’t laugh at this hacky line, but you can sure bet my gutless ass did.
“Hey, guys, is there anything about the town I can make fun of?” Graham asked. This was something we learned from our stand up teacher Larry Horowitz. Larry said to always open with a couple of local jokes when you’re playing a small town as they always do well.
“Well, uh, back in the 70’s, a couple of guys in the north end of town got caught having sex with sheep.” The guy with the bag of smokes responded.
“That…that was in the north end of town though.” He made sure to emphasize.
We stepped inside the building to find a collection of the ugliest people ever assembled. Most striking in appearance was a bald man whose head was at least three times too small for his body. We couldn’t decide if he was 20 or 90. Graham dubbed him Hans Molesman, which made me laugh. Turns out the biker was right. Compared to the collection of circus freaks who made up the audience, we really didn’t look that funny.
Soon the two other comedians, Dave Atkinson and Andrea Jensen arrived, each sporting thousand yard stares. “This is going to be a trainwreck.” The four of us conveyed to one another with our eyes. Realizing that Graham and I still hadn’t settled on who was going last, I said, “I’ll give you fifty dollars of my money if you close this fucking thing.” Graham accepted.
The show’s start time came and went with all four of us having no idea who was in charge of this operation. Finally, twenty minutes after the show was supposed to have begun, the Leopard Print Lady walked over to me and Graham.
“Sorry, guys, the reeve (small town mayor) is supposed to say a few words before the show but he’s still in line for the bar.” “Let me introduce you.”
Leopard Print Lady then walked us over to the lineup for the bar and introduced us to Gary or Jerry or whatever this asshole’s name was.
“These are a couple of the comedians.” Leopard Print Lady said.
“Oh, hey, boys.” “Can I gwab you fellas a dwink?” The reeve slurred.
Graham and I both declined.
“Alright, well just give me a minute to gwab a dwink myself and will get this show going.”
10 minutes and at least two more dwinks later, the reeve finally weeble-wobbled his way on stage.
“Fine citizens of Madoc, we have a comedy show tonight. Pwease welcome from the Yuk Yuk’s Anita Johnson.”
Why we had to delay the start of the show thirty minutes for that, I’ll never know. Having said that, the reeve’s speech had gone better than I’d expected. He’d kept it short and hadn’t said anything racist. Sure, he’d completely butchered the emcee’s name, but I’d fully expected for that to happen.
What I hadn’t expected to happen though was for the two huge speakers on stage to flash neon pink every time the reeve spoke into the mic. Somebody had rented speakers one might see at a rave or a concert for this comedy show. They would continue to flash on and off, on and off for the entire show. It wasn’t just distracting, it was downright hazardous for myself and other epileptics in the crowd. I’m surprised Hans Moleman didn’t break into convulsions within the first five minutes.
As Andrea tried her best up there as emcee, Leopard Print Lady approached Graham and I again. She let loose on us with a barrage of sentences each stranger than the last. She said, in order, the following. (And Graham Chittenden can attest to this.)
“Well, I’m going to take off, my husband ordered Chinese food for us tonight.”
“I hope I can eat it ‘cause I’ve been puking all day.”
“My cat died yesterday and I’ve got him in a basket on my kitchen counter.”
“I don’t know when I’m going to be able to bury him.”
“When my other cat Sylvester died, I kept him in the freezer for over a year.”
And with that, she was gone.
Andrea soon introduced a young Dave Atkinson. Dave is a funny comic but this may have been his first road gig. As such, it would have been a tough assignment under normal circumstances and these certainly weren’t normal circumstances. As Dave performed, Andrea came up to Graham and I with a request. “Do you guys mind if Dave and I take off back Ottawa after his set? Are you okay to close out the show?”
“Go. Run. Save yourselves.” Graham replied.
And run they did. After Dave’s set, Andrea introduced me and she and Dave were out of the building before I’d even completed the set up to my first joke. My first joke bombed by the way, as did the rest of my material. I died so bad that if the Leopard Print Lady hadn’t have already left she would’ve stuck me in her freezer after the show. I introduced Graham and stood in the crowd to watch him take his medicine.
The prick started off strong though. Then Graham really found his groove up there. He wasn’t killing, but he was doing way, way, better than I imagined possible. Thank God I bribed him to go on last. Alas, with about ten minutes to go in his set all of Graham’s momentum came to a screeching halt when he launched into his bit about gay tolerance. It was a well-written piece of material that usually did well but mannnnn did Graham ever misread the crowd on this night. Laughter turned to silence and then angry murmurs. Turns out these folks didn’t think too highly of guys having sex with other guys. Sure, a radical idea like that might fly with the sheep fuckers in the north end of town, but this was Downtown Madoc, goddamnit.
Graham never could get them back after that. He ended his set with a sigh and a “Well, that the show.” and the speakers flashed neon pink for the last time. When we got into Graham’s car I told him, “I have to piss so bad but I’m holding in it until we get out of this town.”
Graham stepped on the gas and floored it. We soon found ourselves pulling into the ON Route just outside of Belleville. It was a sight for sore eyes.