I'm not certain of the reasons, survival perhaps, but the human brain has a cruel predilection for remembering bad things rather than good. Of the scores of fantastic, barnstorming gigs I've been fortunate to have, there is not one that I can remember better than the time I had my worse gig. It took place at the Goat's Head Tavern in London.

Within 30 seconds of my set beginning I could sense that this gig was going to be different. There was something about the room, a smell in the air maybe? I knew that not everything was going to go as planned. I did not, however, anticipate the 15 minutes of almost silence then violent heckling that was to follow.

When your first joke doesn't register it's not a good sign but you can recover, most of time. On this occasion my first joke went badly and the rest of the set went excruciatingly downhill from then on. When your first few jokes are getting bad responses it tends to start a chain reaction of physical symptoms. Increased heartbeat, face becomes flushed and your voice can start to break. The most alarming symptom is the feeling of overheating. Take that hot feeling you get when you're embarrassed and times it by ten. Your ears throb and the only thing you can hear is the frantic pumping of your heart.

The trick in these situations is to change tact and take the audience in another direction but on that night everything I threw at the audience, no matter how brilliant or inspired, juts drew me deeper and deeper into the vortex. I should've just left the stage but somehow I was trapped in the stark stage lighting. I couldn't leave it. I kept talking and talking. That's when the heckles began. Getting one heckle is bad but getting a whole audience heckling you is strangely intoxicating. You simply can't believe you're physically o.k. in a room that's filled with people who hate you.

A minute into this onslaught and I seemed to drift away out of my body. It was as if I was watching myself from the side of the stage. A guest in my own worse nightmare, willing myself to get off the stage. I watched intently as I took a glance at my wrist to check the time. I had done my required time and as quick as a flash I was in my body again. The raucous reaction almost blew me off the stage as I wrapped things up. I was heading for safety and would soon be out of here.

As a human being it's always difficult being rejected. It's more difficult when it's 150 people rejecting you. But as a stand up comic you learn that this is part of the business and bad gigs happen. You learn to not take it personally. But on that strange Saturday night at the Goat's Tavern in Piccadilly it was different. These people for whatever reason just simply didn't like me. In fact I would go so far as to say they truly despised me.

I'm still doing comedy, I still love comedy and I'm sure that I'll have even worse gigs in the future. It's the sense of danger and risk that keeps us crazy comics coming back for more.

Learn more about this author, Reeves Peterson.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Testimonies: Stand up comedy horror stories?
We want to hear your view. Write now!