Comedy of Terrors! (I.P.)

Comedy of Terrors! (I.P.)

A slow hand clap was the first sign that something was wrong. The audience were not responding in the way Bobbins expected. He had come to the Edinburgh Festival in the hope that he would be spotted by some talent scout but judging by this audience’s reaction things were not looking too hopeful.

He loved performing and he thought he was good at it but up here on stage at the Festival he knew he was dying a death. What was it he was doing wrong? He was performing his routine in his usual manner and that always got a good response locally so why not here.

Still he carried on lurching from one joke to another without eliciting a single chuckle. This was bad…really, really bad! He had lived in terror of dying a death on stage ever since he had started his career in comedy but never thought it would happen here at The Edinburgh Festival. Because of the audience reaction, or rather, lack of it, he was sweating profusely and his stage make-up felt as if it was sliding off his face like uncooked egg slipping off a greasy plate. His clothes were damp and he was starting to get chest pains. In fact, he was beginning to feel quite unwell. Then the booing started at the same time as he felt a sharp pain down his left arm but still he carried on like the trouper he was. If they would only give him a chance he thought he could win them round but no they were beginning to shout

“Off, Off, Off!”

By this time he was sweating so much his clothes were sticking to him and even his heavy stage make-up couldn’t hide the grey pallor of his face. His eyes bulged and his tongue lolled out before he finally collapsed. For the first time since he had stepped optimistically on to the stage the audience responded and Bobbins, his bottom lip, like an exposed vein, twisted into a grateful smile as he died to the sound of a cheering, clapping, whistling audience.