The tears of a clown

Firstly, stand up comedy is a horrible, horrible world full of horrible, horrible people.

No one decides to stand on stage cracking jokes as a result of a happy childhood and well centred psyche.

I include myself in this. I should know, we can smell our own. But I have had enough of hanging around with broken people.

Secondly it is simply too much of a male environment for me to bear anymore.

I’m sick of being the token girl and listening to ignorant punters telling me that women aren’t funny.

Last time it happened, I found my stock reply of “they are, you are simply too misogynistic and ignorant to be able to look past the sexual characteristics� turned to bitter ash in my mouth and I realised I couldn’t be bothered to argue any more.

As an aside, it is often women audience members who don’t like lady comics. Women it seems are the worst misogynists of all.

Thirdly, it turns out I am actually really good at my day job.

No one was more surprised by this than me, and I am happily making a fabulous living without having to trek up and down the M1.

And finally, at the ripe old age of 30, I don’t crave the bright lights of performing any more.

But I haven’t given up entirely.

I have a new writing partner, and am channelling my efforts into a medium which doesn’t involve swearing at strangers in bars for 20 minutes at a time and getting paid peanuts.