Davey Crockett was on and he was playing an absolute blinder. You could tell because everyone backstage was listening to him. Even John Nunn’s assistant had stopped examining her two phones. It was not the most original act in the world, it was derivative in many respects: cheeky northern lad doing jokes about ordinary life. But the confidence was overwhelming, and the jokes were good. Brenda was not surprised to learn that this twenty-six-year-old had been gigging for nothing since he was sixteen in local pubs and clubs around his Lancashire home town. The only question was why he had waited so long to enter this competition. But apparently, according to Adil, it had been precipitated by the recent death of his father who had never approved of his stand-up career. Without the overbearing patriarch on his shoulder, he was now free to pursue whatever dream he chose, and he was wasting no time. The competition was wide open, Brenda felt, and success on her part was no certainty. Nothing to do now, though, nothing could be done. Nothing to do but wait and listen to John Nunn performing his contracted twenty minute set while the judges deliberated. Brenda’s stomach went through all the colours of the rainbow in that time and back again, and then the four of them were standing on stage, with John Nunn at one end, and the head judge at the other, holding his own dedicated, destiny defining microphone in his hand. Brenda knew Frances was out there, in the dark, and she wondered whether anything she said had managed to crack her face once.
‘So, have you reached a unanimous decision?’ John Nunn asked the head judge.
‘We have indeed. But let me say John, it’s been a really tough decision. The standard has been incredibly high this year and we felt any of these four could easily go on to a successful career in stand-up comedy.’
‘But there can only be one winner, Mark.’
‘Yes, that’s right. But first we have to announce the runner-up.’ ‘Ah yes,’ said John Nunn making a mental note to have a word with his assistant for not briefing him properly, ‘of course, the runner-up. And you know, there’s no shame in that. Many of the stand-ups we now know and love have been runner-ups, or runners-up should I say, in competitions like these.’
‘That’s right, John, yes.’
‘Well, Mark. Lay it on us, which of these four newly-hatched stand-up comedy chicks – no offence Brenda – wasn’t quite good enough to win?’
‘Hah, well, we wouldn’t put it like that, John. But yes, thank you. Our runner-up tonight is…’
He waited, looked around the room, waited again, and then… ‘Brenda Monk!’
The crowd applauded.
Brenda’s knees buckled a bit.
‘I have not won, I have not won,’ was all she could think, though she would rationalise this later into the more consoling and reasonable ‘I did not lose, I did not lose.’
‘Congratulations, Brenda!’
Mark was shaking her hand, and then John Nunn was.
The crowd were smiling and clapping as Brenda took a small bow – something she had never done before but did now. Why had she never bowed before? Her mind was reeling – why did I bow then? I have not won, I have not won, I know, I bowed because they are applauding me, I have not won, and I’m never usually on stage when the audience applauds, I have not won, they always applaud, I have not won, when I’m already off because, I have not won, that’s when the compere, I have not won, says my name.
‘Davey Crockett…’ Mark was saying and the room erupted.
Brenda clapped along, pushing her mouth into a smile and nodding inanely. He had been good, there was no denying it. And he deserved it, even though his material was safer than a baby-seat in a Volvo. Davey raised his hands in mock triumph and hugged both Martin and John Nunn as though they were old friends. And who knows, given how long this young man had been performing comedy, they might have been. John Nunn quickly and efficiently closed the show, the audience applauded again, the comedians trooped off stage and the house lights came up, suddenly illuminating the strange black box they had shared for an hour and forty-five minutes.
They all shook hands back stage, but Brenda wanted to leave. She needed to be on her own now, just for a short while, to get her head together. Frances Weiss was chatting animatedly to Sean, who was clearly her favourite, and Brenda watched her grab Davey as he approached, in order to congratulate him. She completely and pointedly ignored Brenda as she walked past. Another one bites the dust, Brenda thought, and the search for a funny fanny continued. Brenda felt a surge of annoyance and toyed with asking her whether she felt her own innate prejudices against women could ever be fucked out her by the right man but decided against it – she was probably not in the right frame of mind to talk to anyone with influence and power just now.
Which was why she flinched when John Nunn’s bomber jacketed, vaguely gangsterish, fifty-year-old agent, an industry legend called Steve Angstrom, approached her without warning.
‘Brenda Monk.’
‘Yes.’
‘You were funny.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Needs a bit of work, but funny.’
Brenda nodded.
‘Listen, here’s my card. Come and see me when you’re back in London. I can always use more women. Women are getting quite commercial these days. Lots of work out there for funny women who want it.’
He put the card in her hand and she closed her fingers lightly around it.
‘Are you being looked after?’ he asked, in a manner which managed to be both protective and menacing at the same time.
‘I… Well…’
‘Have you got a drink? Is someone getting you a drink? What would you like?’
‘A white… wine…’
‘Isabelle, could you find Brenda here a white wine, please?’
Isabelle, ostensibly John Nunn’s assistant though clearly in reality answerable to Steve, looked up sharply and then went straight to the table pushed to one side, covered in drinks and snacks.
‘I like your stuff. It’s interesting but marketable, you know what I mean?’ Steve said, matter of factly.
‘Er, thanks.’
Isabelle arrived with the white wine. She handed it to Brenda. Steve nodded approvingly.
‘Would you excuse me now, Brenda? I just need to check on John. Come and see me, OK? I’ll look forward to it.’
‘Of course,’ Brenda said, not quite comprehending any of this, unsure what she even wanted out of it.
Of all the agents in the world, she had never imagined herself with Steve Angstrom. She wasn’t sure she could, even now, but the offer was pretty amazing. And she knew what the result could turn out to be – the evidence was standing not five feet away from her in the form of John Nunn, who was now greeting Steve and introducing him to Davey Crockett. Adil stood with them, though was largely being ignored and Frances now appeared to have an increasingly uncomfortable Sean pinned up against the wall, talking animatedly into his face about her theories of comedy. As Brenda walked past she was in full flow.
‘Of course, from a Marxist–Leninist perspective comedy is all about the veneration of the working class…’
Brenda made a poor job of concealing her smirk.
Just as Barbara clapped her hands and said, ‘Guys, please do feel free to continue this in one of the bars but we need to clear the area now for the next show,’ Brenda pushed open the half-hidden fire escape John Nunn had come in through and was surprised to find herself out in the open air.
The street was bustling. People walking past, up and down, places to go. No-one took the slightest bit of notice of Brenda, though she knew if John Nunn appeared here now he would instantly be mobbed. Aware that this was actually quite an imminent reality, she moved off fast, found a low stone wall that surrounded a large tree in the middle of the square and sat down.
She uncurled her fingers and looked at the business card she held. It was plain, expensive off-white with embossed lettering, bearing Steve’s name and an office address in East London that had probably been bought for nothing twenty-five years ago and was now worth millions – this man couldn’t help but make money. It found him. And now he wanted to represent Brenda, and that would give her access to every big TV show, every number one touring venue, every comedy club in the UK. Did she want to give him her life, though? She’d take the meeting, of course, but she wouldn’t necessarily sign up with him. Not until she’d met other agents – Fenella’s for one – she’d offered to set her up for a coffee in September.
The possibilities, though. My god, the possibilities – Steve would change her life in a snapped finger. Come to think of it, he probably had snapped a few fingers in his time if the stories were true, and Brenda had no doubt that they were.
Her phone buzzed. She looked down and read the message from Fenella.
‘Runner-up. We can work with that. Fucking well done. With Rossly at Attic Bar. Come find us.’
Christ, news travelled fast in this business.
This business: her business.
Brenda tucked Steve’s card safely into her back pocket and stood up.
Thank you to all the team at Unbound, and especially John Mitchinson, Rachael Kerr, Justin Pollard, Dan Kieran and Isobel Frankish who have been so hands-on with this book from the beginning. Thank you to all at Faber who have been incredibly supportive. Thank you to Elizabeth Garner for the great editing. Thank you to Emily Bryce-Perkins and Katie Phillips for the great PR-ing. Thank you to Mandy Ward and Kirsty Lloyd-Jones for all the help, advice and stalwart agenting. Thank you to Kate Gross for the fast reading and giving of feedback.Thank you to Bridget Christie for help with some of the details that were out of my reach. Thank you to Miranda Hart, Emma Kennedy, Victoria Coren Mitchell and David Baddiel for being willing to help with crowd-funding events. Thank you to all who pledged – you have made this book happen. Thank you to David for absolutely everything. And thank you to the comedians who are both in and out of my life for the inspiration and the laughs.
Unbound is a new kind of publishing house. Our books are funded directly by readers. This was a very popular idea during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Now we have revived it for the internet age. It allows authors to write the books they really want to write and readers to support the writing they would most like to see published.
The names listed below are of readers who have pledged their support and made this book happen. If you’d like to join them, visit:
www.unbound.co.uk
.
Peter Alexander
Monty Alfie-Blagg
Bronwyn Allanson
John Allen
Kate Allen
Cheryl Anderson
Lucy Armitage
Lucy Armstrong
Jay Arrowsmith
Lucy Ashiagbor
Paul Baker
Laurence Baldwin
Paco Banos
Dana Barrett
Helen Bates
Katherine Beevers
Jessica Bolger
Clare Cambridge
Lynn Canham
Elspeth Cannell
Xander Cansell
Ellie Cary
Tim Chambers
Pauline Chaplin
Anne Cheong
Benjamin Chiad
Kate Claisse
Jeannie Clark
Hayley Clarke
Chris Cody
Stevyn Colgan
Joy Conway
Rachel Cowie
Carol Croft
Diane Curtis
Holly Curtis
Ruth Curtis
Sarah Darling
Beth Davidson-Houston
Helen Davies
David Deeson
Bruce Dessau
Wendalynn Patricia Donnan
Jillian Dougan
Joy Douglas
Emma Doward
Bob Dowling
Anne Dowson
Lawrence T Doyle
Elspeth Gonzalez-Skuja
Jo Gostling
Peter Govan
Voula Grand
Paul Greenfield
Mike Griffiths
Rose Grimond
Kate Gross
Laura Gustine
Geoff Hale
Andy Hall
Samantha Hall
John Harding
Gary Harper
Cathy Harris
Caitlin Harvey
David Harvey
Darren Havard
Clare Haynes
E O Higgins
Rachel Hillman
Paul ‘Didymus’ Holmes
Emily Hopkins
John Hopkins
Craig Houston
Russell Hughes
Deborah Humphrey
Lucy Hunt
Andrew Hunter
Cathy Hurren
Emma Jackson
Stephanie James
Colleen McKenna
Alistair Mackie
Alex Marcou
Dawn Marshall-Fannon
Lorelei Mathias
Audrey Meade
Laura Meecham
Tom Meeten
Daniela Menezes
Gia Milinovich
Florence Miller
John Mitchinson
Danny Molyneux
Andrew Monk
Lorna Monk
Bernii Morgan-Langridge
Jonathan Morris
Peter Morris
Michael Mortensen
Rachael Morton
Anna Moss
Catherine Mulhall
Lynsey Murphy
Samantha Murphy
Anna Murray
Karina Nelson
David Nicholls
Rachael Nicholson
Amanda Nunn
John Nunn
Marion Nunn
Mark Nunn
Alison Rogerson
Lorna Ross
Robert Ross
William Ross
Victoria Rowland
Deb Ruddy
Kirsten Salt
Katrin Salyers
Stephanie Sandall
Robert Sandler
Comedian Dan Schreiber
Donna Scott
Georgina Scott
Penny Scott-Bayfield
Brian Scranage
Michelle Semple-Morris
Roger Shaw
Justin Sheppherd
Helena Sherriff
Katie Shuster
Annetta Slade
Claire Slade
Mathew Smith
Matt Smith
Martin Southard
Melissa Stevens
Caroline Sturmey
David Tan
Hannah Booth
Joanna Bowen
Amy Bowers
Mark Bowers
Phil Brachi
Carol Brand
Jessica Brand
Jules Brook
Sarah Browne
Miranda Bunting
Julie Burchill
Ali & Tony Burns
Agnieszka Burza
Seymour Butts
Liz Cable
Martin Cain
Anthea Callas
Jane Dudley
Gillian Dykes
Mag. Dr. Helgo Eberwein
Cara Edwards
Hayley Edwards
Karen Elliott
Michael Elliott
Alice Emsley
Neil Erskine
Ben Evans
Ann Fenton
Sarah Fenwick-Stubbs
Elisabeth Filippova
Paul Fischer
Shannon Fitzsimons
Richard Flint
Michelle Flower
Sara Forfar
Ilana Fox
Isobel Frankish
Liz Fraser
Angelina Fryer
Merryl Futerman
Tania G.
Nick Galetti
Paul Gallagher
Tim Galvin
Chloe Gardner
Cyrus Gilbert-Rolfe
Mark Ginns
Wendy Goddard
Salena Godden
Stuart Jary
Louise Jenkins
David Jones
Julie Jones
Jez Kay
Gemma Kee
Lilian Keegel
Jo Anne Kennedy
Rachael Kerr
Feyaza Khan
Dan Kieran
Rosa Michelle King
Victoria Kirk
Lynsay Kobelis
Alexis Kokolski
David Kraft
Jenny Lambert
Andreas Lammers
Cher Langston
Tracy Laurence
Jimmy Leach
Natasha Leahy
David Llewellyn
Victoria Lloyd
Emma Longbottom
Thomas Love
Joanne McBride
Louise McCabe
Sean McCarthy
Barbara McCrudden
Stephen McGinn
Beth McGowan
Sara O’Donnell
Kayuri Odedra
Lesley Orrell
Courtney Owen
Jessica Pan
Nic Parkes
Jim & Adele Parks
David Parry
Rima Patel
Matt Patterson
Viggo Pedersen
John Pelton
Philippa Perry
Shayan Phaily
James Phillips
Kim Pile
Justin Pollard
Jude Powell
Lyndsey Pullen
Jennie Pyatt
Jeanette Ramsden
Emma Read
Sarah Vashti Rennacker
Joshua Reynolds
Gill Richards
Kate Richards
Rachel Richards
Gillian Riddell
Della Roberts
Emma Danielle Robinson
Jayne Robinson
Geraint Rogers
Faye Tan
Dror Tankus
Dan Tetsell
Feri Tezcan
Mike Scott Thomson
Chloe Thorn
Martin Togher
Mike Totham
Gemma Underhill
Charlotte Underwood
Kim Upton
Melanie Vallance
Mark Vent
Louise Vine
Jonathan Wakeham
Karin Wannemacher
Mandy Ward
Carole Warmington
Frances Watson
Arabella Weir
Rebecca Priscilla White
Yvonne White
Patrick Wilcox
John Wileman
Shona Williams
Jayne Woodbury
Stacey Woods
Nadim Zaman