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The
Edinburgh Fringe
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Fringe 2010 Blog - 15I believe I can Fly(er) – 12 August 2010It’s an inevitable fact of life. It’s something that you just know. New born babies are born with this innate piece of knowledge: Edinburgh + Festival = Flyering. It’s a law. Black and white. Just like you know that if you touch a flame it’s going to hurt, or that if you vote BNP you’re a moron. Yes, even alien life on Uranus (or any other planet really but I chose Uranus for obvious reasons), even they know that if you’re going to Edinburgh during the festival, you’re going to get flyered. If you’re in a show, you can bet your sweet extra terrestrial derrière that you’re going to be handing them out as well. Flyers are to Edinburgh what human statues are to Covent Garden - they’re annoying, they’re everywhere and they get in everyone’s way, but it just wouldn’t be the same without them. It is now week two of the festival and the city is drowning in them. Every available surface is full of those colourful bits of paper. It’s like Edinburgh has just experienced a thunderstorm sponsored by Dunder Mifflin (look them up). It would be nice, except that having been exposed to the effects of some real rain, they’re all soggy, stuck together and peeling around the edges. Worse, now that reviews are out, all the colourful posters and flyers are now plastered over with white bits of crudely-cut paper with review quotes hastily printed onto them. Can I just say that I was actually looking forward to receiving my first flyer of the festival? I can’t? Tough I just did. Yes, I was looking forward to receiving my first flyer this year. Don’t ask me why. I remember hating the sight of them so much the last time I was here that in a perverse sort of way, I wanted to see when the torture would begin this year. Do you ever have that happen to you? It’s like re-watching a particularly gory scene from a movie, even though you know it’s going to make you gag. Or watching Big Brother. I walked up and down the streets of Edinburgh waiting, just waiting for all the flyer-giver-outers (I believe that’s their official title) to descend upon the Royal Mile like hordes of flesh-eating zombies which, of course, is exactly what they are. However - sod’s law - nobody would give me a flyer! They would let me walk right past them! I ended up smiling manically as I approached them, greeting them as I walked past and they still wouldn’t give me a flyer! Thinking about it now, maybe that’s why they didn’t. It was a couple of days after I’d arrived in Edinburgh before someone gave me a flyer. It happened at the Pleasance Dome. I’d just walked in and was entering the atrium (see the picture that accompanies the blog entry Hecklers and The Venga Boys on my website if you want to see what the atrium looks like) when this guy comes up to me. His t-shirt gave him away as a professional flyerer. For the benefit of those readers who have never visited the Edinburgh fringe, I should mention here that some production companies and promoters actually pay people to flyer for them. Those companies with enough money (generally those that represent comedians - guess where the money is) send out entire armies of people to blitz the city with flyers. You know those charity muggers (or chuggers) that stand on practically every high street in the UK trying to get you to sign up to a particular charity? Like them, except there’s one on every corner of every street. And they won’t take no for an answer. Anyway, this guy was one of those throw-what-you-like-at-me-but-I’ll-still-be-overly-cheerful flyer pros. I could see that he’d clocked me as I approached. I knew that this was it. I was going to be given my first flyer! Our eyes locked. The world slowed down. Everything else just melted away until it was just him and I alone, our destinies intertwined with each other. He flashed a smile and my heart leapt. I could feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. I gasped for breath and he held out his hand, reaching ever so slowly towards me. This was it! I couldn’t believe it! Surely this was a dream? What flyer would he give me? My thoughts raced through my mind at lightning speed. I wanted, desperately wanted it to be a nice flyer, a good flyer of a good production that I could go and see. I saw myself sitting in the audience watching the show, smiling, thinking, “Yes, it was a flyer worth having”. I wanted it to be a flyer of an under-appreciated production that desperately needed people to go and see the show. Maybe this was gong to be my discovery. This production that nobody knew about except me. Me and the guy with the flyer. I held out my hand towards his. My mouth was dry. The distance between our fingers closed, inch by inch. My eyes itched, wanting to blink but I didn’t dare. I realised I wasn’t breathing any more. I couldn’t. I just needed to take that flyer. In a final, heaving, sweaty push, I thrust forward and clasped the flyer, gripping it tightly with my fingers as if I would never let go. I pulled it out of his grasp and towards me. It was mine. Mine. My first flyer. Church bells rang, couples kissed, doves flew across rainbows and into the sunset, stallions reared, seashells lay there doing nothing, Disney princesses sang, children laughed, penguins - I don’t know - waddled, confetti flew in the breeze, bunting fluttered, champagne corks popped, T-Rex (and why not?) roared...it was...it was... It was rubbish. What a disappointment! It was a flyer advertising a stand-up comedian. I’d never heard of the guy but that didn’t matter. His face is plastered everywhere around Edinburgh. He has by far, the most posters, flyers and adverts of anyone performing at this year’s festival. There isn’t a single wall in the city that hasn’t got his grinning mug pasted onto it. His advert is on the back cover of one of the fringe programmes for goodness’ sake! Do you know how much that costs? This guy didn’t need me to go and see his show! I sat down, dejected and exhausted. A huge wave of disappointment engulfed me. What an anti-climax. Well, that’s flyering for you. I crumpled the flyer and chucked it at the nearest bin. It bounced off a pile of identical flyers. Like I said, rubbish. By the way, it might interest you to know that I’ve now made a full recovery from that incident. It broke my flyer barrier. Every day now I’m engulfed with them as soon as I step out my front door. I’ve been given some rather good ones and, I’m afraid, I’ve given out some as well. Except that mine are for an independent production that’s promoting a good cause. So I’m rather proud to be giving them out, even though it’s soul destroying work and you end up feeling like you’re in a George Romero film. Just kidding. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the Royal Mile to hunt some fresh flesh. |
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