Wednesday night in central London, and comedian Brian Damage is on stage. His audience consists of four men in business suits, who look deeply uncomfortable, a lone couple in the second row, and seven other comics standing at the back of the room. This is Pear Shaped Comedy Club, self-proclaimed as “London’s second worst comedy night” and a mainstay of the capital’s open mic scene for 15 years. The quality of the acts is extremely variable, the quality of the audience even more so, yet a ton of goodwill surrounds the evening.

The acts are genuinely enjoying themselves and regular compere Brian is in good spirits despite the low turnout. “I’ve often come here with my heart in my boots, being really fed up,” he says afterwards, “and then we have the most brilliant night, and that’s because the acts are enthusiastic. They’re not prima donnas, they’re not asking for anything. They just want to do it.” The turnout, he says, isn’t a problem, “We’ve had full audiences who don’t like it and it’s been rotten, and we’ve had stunning nights where we’ve had two people, but they’re really up for it. I’d rather have two people I like, than 200 I don’t.”

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Brian Damage and Krysstal at Pear Shaped Comedy. ‘You don’t have to pay, you don’t have to bring any of your friends, you don’t have to flyer,’ says Damage of Pear Shaped Comedy. Photograph: Sam Johnson

London has innumerable gigs like Pear Shaped, featuring seven or eight, or even 20 new comedians doing five- or 10-minute sets. The talent on offer is, with the best will in the world, “mixed ability”. Some acts are taking their first steps on to the stage, while others are veterans who never graduated to the professional nights and the paid gigs. Almost every show will contain a few gems; Pear Shaped itself hosted early gigs from Daniel Kitson, Gary Delaney and Shazia Mirza. Paul Foot used to work the door. Most of the country’s working comics have played this circuit.



The last few years have seen a huge leap in the popularity of standup, with more people attempting comedy than ever before. Unlike, say, musicians, comedians cannot learn their craft in a bedroom: real audiences are essential to development, and new acts cram as many shows as possible into every week. The increased demand for stage time has resulted in more and more new gigs springing up, at least three or four on any given night, and though some established clubs pull reliable crowds, most struggle to find an audience, often resulting in 20 would-be comedians playing to each other and the bar staff. It creates a strong community of performers, but provides little in the way of career progression.



One solution might be found in “bringer” gigs, the increasingly common policy that requires comics to bulk out the crowd with friends. Comedy Virgins, held several times a week at Stockwell’s Cavendish Arms, advertises itself as “a bringer gig and proud”, with all the performers providing at least one drink-buying guest in order to secure their stage time. With 20 acts per show, this results in a fairly sizeable audience, though many argue that the practice is bad for the industry.

“An audience full of other acts and their mates isn’t one you learn anything from,” says Perrier-award winning comic Wil Hodgson, “You should get gigs on merit, not because you can bring enough friends. It means a bad act with loads of mates can get a gig, when a good one who’s not as popular, or whose friends are bored of seeing their set, can’t. It’s making the act do the promoters work for them. Any act that does Bringers is being treated like a mug and any promoter running one should be ashamed of themselves.”



An audience full of other acts and their mates isn’t one you learn anything from Wil Hodgson

Not everyone is against the policy, however. At Comedy Virgins, newcomer Andy Nolan has just made his debut. At one point he forgets his lines and apologises to the audience, admitting that it’s his first time on stage – receiving an instant, tremendously supportive round of applause. It’s a nice moment. “If it means that there are shows like this, where you can have a soft introduction, then I don’t see the problem,” he says, afterwards, “there was a lot of goodwill, they were very nice. I can’t wait to do it again.”

According to Brian Damage, the policy is fast becoming the norm. “It’s outrageous,” he says. “When people ask to play, it takes two or three emails to get the message across that they don’t need to bring anyone. Just turn up! You don’t even have to be funny! Just turn up! You don’t have to pay, you don’t have to bring any of your friends, you don’t have to flyer, you don’t have to do anything except talk for five minutes. It doesn’t matter if you’re not funny.” He pauses. “Unless everyone’s not funny that night,” he adds. “That does happen every now and again.”