The Comoedus

First Capitulum

“Comedy is a funny thing… Some people laugh at it, whilst others prefer to laugh at things which aren’t comical… Usually, the former are good, sensible, upright people, whereas the latter are often the fools, layabouts and degenerates of society… And so, as a comedian, I have the unique privilege of being a kind of judge of society, as represented by my audience. So remember folks, this is a two-way thing: it’s my responsibility to deliver quality humour which is funny- and it’s your responsibility to find it funny…”

These words, given in the form of a mock lecture, preceded each act by Roger Day. 

It was usually received with a mixed response; some thought it a trifle lofty, others seemed bored by it and impatient for the act to move on, whilst some were intrigued and captivated by this strange beginning, and curious as to how things would develop. 

An audience, typically composed of a mix of individuals of various sizes, shapes and aspects, some chewing gum, others clasping bottles or plastic cups of beer or soda, some laughing or grinning wildly, others frowning and perhaps considering the possibility of refunds, is quick to judge a performer and the quality of his act on how it begins. 

Many performers, aware of this weakness in the minds of their audience, are all too eager to make a big, impressive, shocking appearance; outrageous costumes, sudden furious outbursts of wit, loud music or other noises- these are indeed common methods. But Roger Day was a little different; he sought to make his audience think (a dangerous endeavour in any part of modern society) whilst maintaining the aspect and general style of a performer.

Behind closed doors, he might tell you that he did this in order to “separate the wheat from the chaff, to decide who would be at his next show in this part of town and who wouldn’t…” and, to be fair to him, he certainly succeeded in his wishes…

Now Roger Day was not quite what you would call a good comedian… Although he was in fact worthy of being called a “good comedian”… These two words, however, are best considered separately in his regard: he was good, as in a fine, virtuous man, and he was, in the professional sense, a comedian.

Some of his humour was certainly likeable, quite old-fashioned, and for those of the humblest, most common disposition, often quite funny…

But much of his humour lacked the refinement and polished edges that make a truly great, lasting comic performer, and it is a shame that a few jokes and “funny stories” found their way into his act which would have been better left well away from it…

There could be found moments of brilliance, even genius, in some of his work, but these lacked consistency and tended to give an uneven air to the overall performance.

One could wonder why such a man should merit further examination…

But there are so many works examining the lives and wit of the great comedians, and so much has been said on their behalf, that there is much to be seen and perhaps learned from a lesser figure. 

Comedy is just one thing amongst many that makes a comedian, and many of these things are of interest. 

And so, to begin, we look now upon Roger Day as he stands upon a stage, dressed in a plain white shirt and a rather bitty brown tie, standing with mike in hand and delivering his wit to an audience in the town of Chorton, West Leasby. 

He is quite tall, lean, inclined to stoop slightly as he stands, and also limps a little when walking (a circumstance which he often dresses up with various humorous stories and inventions). He is also rather sweaty, and has a tendency to display a measure of nervous energy and tension in his delivery. 

Occasionally, his voice breaks or cracks a little, which can detract from a punchline or crucial moment in his act…

At this time, it is night, about 9 o’clock, and the audience, crammed into a fairly small village hall, is a mixture of curious yet often critical townsfolk, and boisterous, intoxicated fellows with loud voices and limited inhibitions… 

The first part of Roger’s act passed over most of the heads present- though a select few, including the town’s vicar and one of the police constables, seemed mildly intrigued.

After the mock lecture, quite good and well polished through much use, Roger often veered off into different territory altogether, recounting weird and wonderful stories and the occasional one-liner. This time, he dwelt a little longer on the subject of his introduction.

“The thing with comedy, you see, is that you need to know what isn’t funny. I mean, there are just so many things that can be said that aren’t funny, and it’s important to avoid those, so… If you want to be a comedian, book yourself a long holiday somewhere nice and quiet, and spend your time thinking of all things that AREN’T funny… Then, once you’ve got all those things eliminated, all that’s left is the funny stuff- and bang, you’ve got yourself a successful career…!”

One or two chuckled at this; the vicar seemed slightly puzzled and unsure of how his face should manifest to the world his opinion of this… The policeman burst out laughing and seemed much amused- whilst many of the audience remained stone-faced or frowned disagreeably. One intoxicated person shouted out: “You should have stayed on that holiday a lot longer, mate!” to which remark one or two of his associates gave a round of mock applause.

Roger Day continued, seemingly unaffected: “But I haven’t always been just a comedian, folks… In my early days, I used to be a gardener as well! Once, I had a client- an old man- who was taken very ill and had to be hospitalised… (At this point, someone in the audience yelled: “Did you tell him one of yer’ jokes!?” which struck a few as being rather funny) I went to see him as I needed to see what he wanted me to do whilst he was in hospital… He looked very ill and had a whole load of wires sticking into him and machines by his bed… He told me: “You can take out the ivy,” so I pulled it out of his arm… and he died!”

There were still a lot of stone-faces- (“You’d think I was Medusa or something!” Roger Day sometimes quipped when this happened) and the vicar gave one of his very best frowns, a sign perhaps of disapproval…

Roger’s act continued and, sadly, so did the stone-like features and raising of eyebrows, though some of his quick quips elicited a few laughs.

For instance: “…the other day, someone told me to my face that I was a rubbish comedian… I was dumbstruck! Which makes a change, as usually I’m struck for being dumb!”

(This got quite a few chuckles- though Roger suspected that there was a nasty spirit behind a lot of them…)

“…someone asked me: “What does a cross between a Terrier and a Poodle look like?” So I said: “Imagine a Poodle and a Terrier standing opposite one another with a crucifix in between, and you’ve got it!”

(Mostly silence after this one.)

To conclude his act, Day often resorted to a quick joke with a fairly popular theme or slant; if things had gone badly, this sometimes provided some relief and even fooled the most weak-minded into believing that perhaps the evening hadn’t been so boring, after all…

This time, it was one of the good old Mother-in-law jokes…

“So last year, I discovered a great way of keeping the mother-in-law quiet… Only downside was, the police found the murder weapon…”

After this final line, Roger gave a somewhat mocking bow to his audience, as was his custom, and then departed from the stage.

Some of the audience grinned and even laughed aloud at the final joke, but shortly after Roger’s departure, a general mood of discontent and dissatisfaction began to flood the room.

After a show, Roger seldom hung around. Not being a driver, he usually rang to arrange a taxi and then amused himself whilst waiting by debating what form of sustenance should sustain him on that night. (Once, a doctor had told Roger that he ate his dinner too late. Roger had replied: “In that case, hopefully I’ll die late as well!”)

As the taxi drove Day to his cheap hotel, he contemplated how things had gone. Usually, being able to contemplate his last performance was a sign that things had not been at their worst… If they had, Roger tended to obliterate the show from his memory, partly with will-power and partly with large helpings of curry and generous mouthfuls of Ale…

Roger Day arrived at his hotel- The Star, a name indicative of the number of stars it would doubtless be awarded by a hotel critic- and went up to his room. He ate his usual meal for after-show dinners: Tindaloo (Roger often said that it should have been called “Intheloo”) with rice and plenty of Nairn bread, accompanied by a powerful ale.

After the meal, Roger went and stared out of his window, gazing up at the stars and occasionally opening the window to admit the night air.

His face was meditative, but also sad… and his features suggested a man who is longing… for something… What it was, you couldn’t know- and neither did Roger, really… Perhaps it was success…Or money… or love…

Roger had, until this point in his existence, never married. In the past, he’d obtained a couple of potential “victims” (as Roger liked to refer to potential marital partners) but both these relationships had quickly come to an end, as it seemed Roger’s disposition and habits were not altogether in accordance with the demands women commonly place upon male companions…

His most recent relationship, only two weeks in the making, had ended shortly after a show in which he’d told a joke daringly aimed at the members of the fair sex…

This woman was quite a pleasant sort, of a similar age to Roger and with pleasing features, and also a successful career in business. However, it seems her sense of humour could not be stretched as far as Roger’s joke seemed destined to stretch it, and this woman had brought about a speedy termination to their relationship after the show, in terms which suggested to Roger that an apology would fall far short of that which could restore their friendship (which was in fact, nothing…).

The joke was brief, and went: “Women are such terrible drivers!!!  Stick them at the wheel of a tank and send them off into enemy territory- that’s what I say!”

This remark had gone down very well with many of the male portion of Roger’s audience; though amidst all the guffaws and red laughing faces, a face could be seen that was more in keeping with the mood of a funeral than that of a comedy night…

That face belonged to a certain Miss Sabine Granger, who, after staring intently at Roger for some time, removed it from his vicinity and exited the venue…

Later, Day had received a telephone call, which had hurt his ear almost as much as Miss Granger would have liked to have hurt his whole body…

The relationship was at an end, and nights like this one, spent staring out of hotel windows into a starry sky, continued…

On the morning of the next day, events took an interesting turn for Roger…

He’d just come down to the hotel’s reception to check out, after which he’d be travelling on to Luffsbury (also in West Leasby) in which location he was performing another show. Just as he reached the reception desk, who should walk in the door but his old friend, Malcolm Knight!

And, almost from the very moment Roger saw Malcolm and his big, suggestive smile and outstretched arms, he knew that the time for something different had arrived… For there existed a long-discussed, long-ago-conceived plan (though not yet realised) to form a partnership in the world of comedy!

And this partnership was intended to be announced and presented to the world as: “The Knight and Day Show!”

~To be continued…

Daniel Macintyre

(Copyright Daniel Macintyre protectmywork.com 05/06/2025)