Namby pamby - bang (fi fa fo)

The Comedy Cellar was crammed to its head-height ceiling, the crowd febrile, on the edge, could go either way. They were going to hate me almost as much as they were now loving Colvin as he eased through the gears, his mouldering old gags delivered like hot, fresh bread. If recycling rubbish was an art form, Colvin was da Vinci. Everyone said he was past it, that he'd missed the comedy boat while younger, hipper, less gifted comics had sailed onto TV and into the Tabs. Colvin was thirty-one, seven years my junior, but he'd started straight out of university whereas I'd only been at this comedy lark for five minutes and open mike spots still outnumbered paid gigs by two to one...ok, ten to none. Who's counting? But I had other commitments, like a full time job and a season ticket to Watford. Where was I going to find the time to develop a comedy career?

Namby Pamby - Bang (Fi Fa Fo)

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