Like many others, I had a come-to-Jesus moment in lockdown realising that I only have one life (can’t confirm actually but I’m only allowed approx. 100 words here).
I left my very serious, very useless business degree in Trinity College and moved to London for acting school.
During my time there I wrote a tragedy about the struggles of Irish catholic school. All my classmates laughed so I’ve had to rebrand myself as a comedian for commercial purposes.
But looking back, it makes sense. I’ve always wanted to make people laugh – my childhood therapist should’ve been paying me for a 60-minute set every week.
Just do SOMETHING if you won’t play that sax
It’s a tradition in the Galvo family for all cousins, aunties, uncles, grandparents and current boyfriends and girlfriends to sit in a circle after big dinners and perform a party piece. It doesn’t have to be spectacular, but everyone must do something.
If you refused or claimed you were shy, your mother would list off all the times she drove you to saxophone practice, or paid for a speech and drama exam. “And for what? Just do SOMETHING, Rachel.”
I started the flute, but one day my teacher told me my chin was underdeveloped and I never went back.
I ended up telling the story about that last devastating flute class in the circle at Christmas – greatly overexaggerating, doing impressions and making cousins laugh with self-deprecating chin jokes. From that day, storytelling became my new party-piece.
Evan Doherty
Pussy Cat Crack
Growing up, I spent more time in theatres than in school. I was addicted to doing plays and musicals (no, I didn’t have many friends).
When I was in my last year of school, and old enough to know better, I got cast in an amateur production of CATS with a theatre company on the other side of town.
We were under strict instruction to wear dance leotards under our skin-tight cat suits, but I was 18 and aggressively anti VPL (visible panty line) so I decided to ignore that request. Anyways, by night three, the seams at the crotch of my suit had started to wear thin, and after a crappy attempt at the box splits, the costume ripped, revealing my massive pale arse crack to the audience.
Like a true professional amateur, I finished the dance. I think that situation would have ruined many people, but I found it gas. I rarely feel embarrassed if what I’ve done has made people laugh… even if it is AT me.
Edinburgh’s not that hard…. Is it?
Shockingly, I didn’t get an agent straight after acting school, which is weird because I thought everyone who went to acting school in London automatically got cast in the Royal Shakespeare Company or Les Mis (I have my audition ready, btw).
I was working in a very mundane office job last year, when my friend Alexis texted me and said he was going to the Edinburgh Fringe in August. “Omg come! It’ll be soooo fun… you could try your comedy thing again?”. ‘Ok gas,’ I thought. ‘I’ll apply to a venue and probably won’t get in so what’s the harm?’
The next day, I was sitting with my manager in something called a ‘privacy pod’, begging her for three weeks off in August because I’d been offered to do my Catholic school tragedy show at the Fringe.
She said “No.” So I said “See ya.” And luckily, I haven’t been in a building with a ‘privacy pod’ since.
Evan Doherty
Ticketmaster hates you
At the time I was writing my show in drama school, I started posting on TikTok (I know, I know, it is the way the world is going, Mum.) I posted a short clip of the show online and the next day I was contacted by a promotions agency in Ireland to put a full show on sale.
‘Christ, this is mortifying,’ I thought as I reluctantly agreed because anything was better than a privacy pod. I pictured myself performing to only my parents, my siblings and all of my cousins – which to be fair, could’ve filled a room.
The tickets went on sale at 9am and I immediately started to get messages that Ticketmaster had broken down. Now, I’m not religious, but I can’t completely shed myself of my Catholic upbringing. So naturally, I thought this was a sign from God to give up comedy and return to corporate life.
I got a call a minute later from my agent saying it wasn’t broken but that the show had just sold out straight away. My cousins came running asking for tickets as they couldn’t get any online. Sorry lads, it’s a dog-eat-dog world. Better luck next time.
The Shite Feminist
If you are interested in my Catholic school tragedy, I’ll be performing The Shite Feminist every night of the Fringe at 7pm in Pleasance Dome.
