Brenda Monk Is Funny (11 page)

‘Nah, I want to go on. I’ve got some new material I want to try out at an intimate club like this. You know, not so much pressure, eye contact with the front three rows. I like a small crowd.’

Brenda marvelled at the level of bullshit coming out of her mouth. New material? It was all new material.

‘Sure you do, babe.’ Rossly smiled crookedly.

He was sizing her up, not as competition, but as prey. Brenda smiled back, realising just in time that appearing confident was more important than feeling confident. Lesson one.

Rossly broke the atmosphere by opening his bag, looking for the CD of music he wanted Marvin to put on when he walked on stage. Brenda breathed out silently and felt for her small notebook in her jacket pocket. She sat down on the left sofa and pulling out a pen, she opened the book and started copying her set order onto the back of her hand. It was a waterproof pen which meant that the set order would remain on the back of her hand for anything up to a week, but at least it wouldn’t rub off when she started sweating. And she had already started sweating. The door to the green room swung open again and a stocky man in his early forties grunted into the room. Rossly glanced up. ‘Hey Mike, buddy – you look like shit – you got cancer or something?’

Mike, he of the tired and wife and faded dreams that Brenda remembered from the Attic Bar in Edinburgh, adjusted to the small but deliberate body blow, and dumped his rucksack on the floor.

‘It’s full blown AIDS – I think I got it when your mum let me butt-fuck her in Melbourne last year.’

Rossly smirked and nodded, and went back to looking for his CD. Brenda sniggered to herself. Mike noticed her sitting on the sofa and frowned.

‘I thought Jonathan was in New York or something.’

‘He is,’ said Brenda.

‘So…’ Mike looked at her with a quizzical expression.

‘I’m going on.’ Brenda heard herself say these words, and once again, the reality lurched in her stomach like a bad prawn.

‘She’s got some new material she wants to try out, right, Bren?’ Rossly’s voice leaned in to Mike’s mounting confusion.

‘Oh, right. I didn’t know…I mean, I never realised…’

‘You’d better not fuck it up tonight, Mike. Brenda’s bringing the good stuff.’

Mike narrowed his eyes for a fraction of a second. He’d been on the circuit for over ten years now, and never got above club level. Never even made it to headliner. To Mike anyone was a threat, regardless of experience. Mike had seen enough people start after him, climb past him, and never glance back down the crevasse to see if he was OK, so he couldn’t afford to be generous. Brenda studied her hand while Mike walked into the toilet room and unbuttoned his awful black jeans. As the sound and smell of piss, fermented on the long tube ride down from Acton, filled the room, Brenda gagged again.

Was this really what she wanted? Rossly’s words played in her head, ‘You don’t even have to go on, if you don’t want to.’ Did she want to? Did she?

She closed her eyes. She imagined getting up, making her excuses, walking out of the black door, through the bar, past the security guard and back out onto the street. She pictured hailing a cab and climbing in. She pictured telling the friendly, fatherly cabbie her address and sitting back, watching London slide past, not knowing, not asking, not caring, not judging. She would pay the cab, open her front door, slip inside and pour herself a glass of wine. She would put the TV on. She’d be home in time for
The Apprentice
if she left now. It would be as if this had never happened. Marvin wouldn’t care, Mike would be relieved and Rossly would certainly find someone else to fuck whichever way he pleased. She could hide from Fenella, and what did she even owe her anyway? They barely knew each other.

She was drifting in a sea of sweet relief, when something gripped her inside, an unwelcome clench of regret and disappointment. A feeling that her life would continue without her if she stepped off now. All she could picture was herself sitting at home, bored, sadly downing a bottle of wine alone and wishing she was back at the club. That couldn’t happen. The possibility of it was worse than the current reality. She was going to stay here, she knew now, and wait her turn and walk through the curtain, and with the screaming silence of the green room behind her and the potential actual silence of the crowd in front of her, she was going to tell her jokes.

Ludo Kinkovic’s arrival brought her back into the room. He pushed open the door and stood still, letting it swing back to a closed position in his face. For a brief moment he was framed by the open door, a frozen clown, bright pink hair gelled into a high quiff, a diamond in each ear, heavy black eye-liner and a shock of neon lipstick and a lunatic smile on his face. Rossly smirked, Mike grimaced and Brenda laughed in spite of the fact that it was not cool to do so. Marvin briefly looked up, and then looked down again. Ludo then entered the room as if nothing had happened.

‘Evening all. What’s the plan for tonight then? Anyone fancy doing a spot of the comedic, like?’

His mockney accent grated, but Brenda couldn’t entirely hate him for it as it wasn’t entirely inauthentic, just embellished a little round the edges. Ludo was bi-sexual, which formed the greater part of his act. Furthermore, he was perfectly willing to accuse fellow comedians of homophobia if the mood took him.

‘Ludo, you appalling queer, you’ve gone pink. Just when I was getting used to the green,’ Rossly drawled at him in his favourite ‘straight-talking Bruce’ voice.

‘Queer is still a pejorative, Rossly darling. So unless you’ve ever sucked cock, I suggest you leave that language on the plane from Oz-land.’

‘I find the term “Oz-land” deeply offensive, Ludo, to me and my fellow countrymen.’

‘But not countrywomen? Tell me, do ladies even have the vote in your native land?’

‘Yeah, that’s why I had to leave.’

Ludo smiled benignly and slung his handbag on the sofa beside Brenda.

‘Hello dear, have we met?’

‘No, I’m Brenda Monk. I’m doing ten minutes.’

‘Lovely. I shan’t do any of my periods and mascara material then, so you’ll have something to talk about.’

Brenda gave him a chilly smile, but her stomach seized. She wished Fenella was here. She even wished Jonathan was here. She knew green rooms could be like this, but this was unusually arctic.

Ludo laughed to himself.

‘No, really, I love lady-comics. You’re so
brave
. MIKE! I didn’t see you there, why must you always be so
invisible
. Really, last week at
The Last Laugh
I thought you were going to disappear from the stage entirely.’

Mike ignored him.

‘Are you going to be a cunt all night, Ludo?’ Rossly asked.

‘Oh, I should think so, yes. I’ve got some friends coming and that always brings out the worst in me.’

Friends seemed a very distant concept to Brenda now. Friends couldn’t help her here. Marvin stood up.

‘OK, let’s go.’

And Ludo strode out onto the stage.

‘Come on, then, if you’re coming, come on. Sit down, look there’s a lovely seat right on the front row here, put your bottom there, bring your drink, oh is this your friend? Hello, friend – what’s your name? What? Shout it out. What? Hilfer? Hilfer? Ah, das is gut, mein Hilfer, kommst zu hier and sitten das backsiden downen. What?
Heifer
? Your name is
Heifer
? What’s the matter – didn’t your parents like you? Oh HESTER! Hester, that’s my favourite name, did you know that? I wish you’d said that to begin with, we could have had a lovely chat, but it’s too late because I have to start the show. GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN and WELCOME to SNORT! Yes, you’re right to cheer because this is the bloody best comedy night in South London and we’ve got a fantastic line-up for you. There’s ME. Thank you for that, much obliged. There’s my favourite Antipodean anteater – what? He’s got a big nose and those funny little eyes – he has! Wait til I tell you… it’s Rossly Barns! Oh you like him at the back, sir? Good, good. How long are you planning on staying in the UK, Mr Barns? We’ve got Mike Smith – no, not that one, he’s going down on Sarah Greene as we speak. No, Mike Smith, the famous comedian. Yes, he’s going to be whinging about his marriage I should think, but in an hilarious fashion. And then we’ve got a gorgeous little newcomer called Brenda Monk who you all have to be extra nice to. So, look, before I bring on the first act, I need to talk to you about my vagina. No, seriously, my figurative vagina is in a LOT of pain…’

Backstage, nobody spoke.

Ludo had fucked them all up in turn, just as he was known to. Rossly was grinding his teeth. Mike furiously scrolled through his phone. Brenda was sat white-faced, frozen to the sofa. Only Marvin smirked to himself as he worked through some accounts. The gales of laughter from the other side of the curtain had secured Ludo another booking before he even came off stage. Ludo was wrapping up, and calling Mike onstage. As Ludo left he pushed the mic stand down hard so that the first thing Mike had to do on entering was raise it, creating an awkward pause and putting him at an immediate disadvantage. It was a cheap old trick but Ludo had revived it in recent months. Back in the green room, Ludo took a mirror from his bag and studied his eyeliner.

‘Hey Ludo, you do that mic stand shit to Brenda here, I’ll punch your lights out after the gig.’

Ludo bristled a little. Rossly had been known to throw a punch every now and again and so it wasn’t an entirely empty threat. Rossly had a certain danger to him in any case. He was unpredictable and didn’t always seem wholly in control of his long, spidery limbs. He was thin but he was also tall and he could get a good hit in from above if he was of a mind to. Ludo didn’t answer, but he had clearly absorbed the warning. Mike’s voice, amplified on stage, penetrated the frosty silence.

‘Yeah, so like Ludo said, I’m married. No don’t laugh at that, that’s not even a joke. OK, seriously, don’t laugh, now, because… yeah, I’m married. OK, that laugh was just patronising. I haven’t even started yet. I’M MARRIED. I have to do at least one joke, that’s not my only joke you know, my act isn’t just coming out here and saying “I’m married”. Well, it kind of is but I like to think there’s more to it than that. So, I’m married and my wife is beautiful. No, don’t laugh at that, she is! She’s beautiful and kind and understanding and supportive and sexy… BUT… OK, I thought you’d laugh more at that to be honest, but perhaps you’ve used it all up on my NON-JOKES…’

Ludo peered through the curtain. He didn’t need to say anything, the contempt for Mike poured out of him like sour milk tipped down a drain.

Rossly approached Brenda on the sofa.

‘You OK, rookie?’

‘Yeah. I mean… yeah.’

Rossly nodded.

‘You like your jokes.’

‘Uh, yeah.’

‘Well, fuck anyone that doesn’t then. You just say your jokes, and come back in here. No big deal, OK?’

Brenda nodded, mute with fear now. This didn’t feel like the gigs she had done with Fenella. There was no well-established, utterly loved and trusted comedian going on to introduce her and guide her up to the stage. No, there was Ludo who had just walked straight past Mike’s open hand in front of the whole audience, who were now laughing. Ludo had created the tone of the room with his caustic manner and sharp-ended jokes and people were now laughing at the meaner end of the gag spectrum. Rossly had the experience to adapt to this and mental archive of material to pull up now he knew how the evening was shaping up. Brenda had precisely ten minutes of material she had never performed before. Brenda felt a chill of certainty that she was going to bomb. And now the idea was in her head, it was even more likely to happen. She would carry it on stage with her, an invisible backpack that would give her a slight stoop and a suspicious eye and the crowd would sense it instantly, in its animal way, and not like her.

Mike sighed, picked up a brown envelope with his name on it and dropped heavily onto the sofa. He discreetly opened the package and ran his finger across the banknotes and then, satisfied it was all there, opened a beer. Ludo was announcing that there would be a short break and they would be back with more in ten minutes and with that he bounded back into the room. Mike stared into the middle distance and drank his beer steadily. Ludo pulled out his phone and Tweeted his whereabouts and general feelings about them. The door was pushed open shyly and three very beautiful androgynous looking boys who could not have been more than nineteen years old drifted in.

‘Here you are!’ shouted Ludo. ‘Come and save me, my pretties, look what I have to put up with.’

Ludo gestured around the room and the boys nodded awkwardly to no-one in particular.

‘I’ve got a treat here, but you have to be under twenty to enjoy it,’ Ludo said extravagantly.

‘Guess that rules you out,’ Rossly retorted.

Ludo just tossed his head and pulled a bottle of Prosecco out of his bag. He pushed his three boys into one corner, popped the cork and began whispering to them as he poured out four glasses.

Brenda looked at her hand and the thick blue printed words in a list that covered the back of it.

‘Boyfriend, hair, shaved vagina, Shrek, Jane Austen, nipples, glue.’

Rossly was standing behind her, reading them out quietly.

‘Stop it. Don’t jinx it.’

Rossly smiled with some unexpected warmth.

‘Let me tell you a little secret about comedy, Brenda Monk. You can’t jinx it if you do it right.’

‘Well, that’s easy for you to say.’

‘Yes it is, but it applies to you too. Here’s my best piece of advice for you, are you ready? Always acknowledge what’s happening in the room.’

He paused to let this sink in.

‘Always acknowledge what’s happening in the room. Do you understand what I mean by that?’

‘Kind of.’

‘It’s rule one. You don’t just go out there and say your jokes as if there’s no-one there…’

‘But earlier you said…’

‘Yeah, I know I said you’re just going to say your jokes and then come back in here, and that’s true at the very basic level. I said that because you looked like you were going to puke your neck up or run away, and I can’t fuck you later if either of those things happen.’