COMING from Holland, most comedians at the Fringe are totally unknown to me.
Picking a show therefore is quite a gamble. So far I have had some good luck with Stewart Lee, Josie Long and The Clock Hour. Unfortunately I have also had some bad luck with comedians who either ended every sentence with "I shit you not" or with "bu
t I am not a homosexual".
After two weeks I began to see that the more serious the flyer, the funnier the show often is. So when I was offered a serious flyer, by a guy who assured me his show was both funny and experimental, I decided to take a chance.
As it turned out, there were eight other people in the audience taking a chance with me. Judging by what I overheard, they where all good friends of the cast members. Perhaps, I told myself, this was part of the experiment.
As soon as the lights went out, it became apparent that experimental meant the actors tiptoeing around the stage in underwear. I recognised the man who had given me the flyer. Apart from underwear and socks he was also wearing a cowboy hat. He recognised me and gave me a personal smile, implicating: "How nice to see you actually came to our experimental show."
As the cast continued tiptoeing in their underwear not saying or doing much, it occurred to me that their friends in the audience had positioned them selves so it was impossible for me to sneak out unless I crossed the stage. Perhaps this too was part of the experiment.
After a while one of the actors started to sing a karaoke song while the other two kept tiptoeing. It was then that I began counting the bricks in the wall behind the stage. After having counted them (457) I went on to count the lights (34) and the empty chairs in the room (53).
When I was finished, the actors where still tiptoeing in their underwear. Perhaps, I thought, the point of this show was to see how long it would take for a puzzled Dutch comedian to finally get up and leave. Thirty-three minutes to be precise. I got up and smiled apologetically at the guy who had given me his flyer.
As I closed the door behind me I sighed a breath of relief. That is, until I realised I had mistaken a props cupboard for the exit.
I made a promise to myself that from now on I will only go to funny shows advertised by funny-looking comedians, taking on funny poses.
Micha Wertheim performs with the Amsterdam Underground Comedy Collective at the Pleasance Dome, 8:30pm 