I arrive early, and the sound guy is already there.

Conveniently, his name is Guy.

Guy, the sound guy.

Sound guy Guy.

Guy Guy sound.

He is friendly, and Australian. We have a nice chat, and as he sets up the stage, I learn his interest in experimental rock, music theory, and production.

This is my band’s first ever gig.

“I’m a bit worried we’ll be a step down compared to what you’re usually working with,” I say.

“I love writing songs, but I can only play about seven chords.”

He blinks at me from behind the sound desk.

“You’ll probably be fine.”

Guy is sound. I buy Guy a Guinness – always look after the sound sound guy Guy – and send my friend, Paul, for whom this is something of a busman’s holiday – downstairs.

Bandmate #1 arrives in a fabulous dress and matching bundle of nervous energy. A much much much more experienced comedy performer than me, this was Martha’s first ever gig playing her songs in front of an audience [1].

She is shitting it. Properly shitting it. Whereas I am feeling zen, in a way that always makes me wonder whether I’m confident or dead inside. [2] Especially as I hadn’t decided what to do hosting wise.

Plan A was to present the first half as national hero. Captain Sir Tom Moore, and then to announce his death at the interval.

But as time moved hurriedly on and some of my guest acts continued to not arrive, I realised we’d be running late, and should probably keep my own hosting bits the bare minimum. [3]

Ros, the third leg of our Highchurch stool, turned up, and we soundchecked. Guy positioned us expertly, listened to all our concerns, and was very patient.

We had planned to just do two tunes, but with no other acts arriving except Mikey we were able to run through all four – and even do Doris Wu, again, for luck.

Time hurtled. Punters started trying to gain entry, and I sent them back downstairs, Martha impressed by my firm sassiness.

At least some of the acts were arriving, so we were ready to open the doors and let in the masses.

My Brighton parents, Yas and Mr Simon Topping, very kindly agreed to work the door, a little and large combination not seen since the days of, well, Little and Large. Big thanks to them both for stepping in last minute.

Guy gave me a nod and I threaded my way through the packed little room to the stage for hosting purposes.

I have never heard a more enthusiastic response to just saying the name of the night we were all at.

I felt like Data in that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, where he tries to become a stand-up comedian and the Holodeck audience laugh at every single thing he does, except this was (probably) real.

In meta fashion, I explained the Captain Tom hosting idea, holding the disturbing mask to my face, and called one of our best loved figures a scam artist.

It was time to unleash Mikey Bligh-Smith.

As with Simon going on stage as his Tudor time traveller character last year, the plan was to put the strangest act on first, to make it clear that a) yes, this is an alternative comedy and music night, and b) there is nothing to be scared of.

Mikey was his usual brilliant self, explaining the concept of the water cycle in his own unique and brilliant manner.

The front row was a touch nervous of the audience participation, but eventually two willing humans took to the stage to form a cloud alongside our hero.

Their obvious height discrepancy merely added to the chaos.

Mikey and his assorted props left the stage and I prepared the audience for our second act, the lovely Selena Mersey, trying out material from her impending Bisexuelle show.

Last year we had songs about pronouns and fucking pianos; this year we had a noir character dealing with the baffling, baffling concept of a complicated Dame.

I felt the energy drop slightly, so in my next bit of hosting I returned to our hero, Sir Captain Tom Moore, and a tribute to the demise of his memorial sauna.

I asked Guy to play The Last Post, and solemnly recited these sombre words:

“That luxury spa in Hannah Ingrim-Moore’s garden shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old.

“Age shall not weary it, nor the years condemn, for it was already condemned by the local council.

“At the going down of the sun and in the morning, when Captain Tom would be made to walk around the garden again.

“We will remember it.”

Closing the first half were Shelf, returning champions, back by popular demand, and absolute icons who deserve statues in every city.

With song, charm, and excellent crowd work, Shelf sent everyone off for their mandatory wee / booze break in high spirits.

“Is everyone ready for a jarring shift in tone?”.

We had come to the musical portion of the evening, and I wanted the audience to know that the songs they were about to hear were NOT comedy songs.

Instead, we had the magical Jo Burke +1, performing incredibly beautiful folk singing and playing.

Ros, my fiddle player, was sat near the front. She gave me a look, which meant… “how are we supposed to follow this?

All too soon, Jo had sung her last, and it was time for The Highchurches to make their way to the stage for their first ever live performance.

We played:

The Ballad of Ms Doris Wu

Joy in the Morning

Avalon

Harvest Moon

And everything went beautifully. Highlights included the laugh half way through Doris Wu, due to her penchant for killing pets for fun in Hawaii; the shouted “Yes Martha!!” from an audience member at the end of Avalon, and getting through all the songs without any major fuckups.

My band mates were amazing. Ros really elevates the songs with her playing, and being able to exchange glances with her as we kept the band in time was a magical feeling.

During the outro to Harvest Moon, I allowed myself a moment to look out and just enjoy what we were doing. A lifetime dream, of playing my songs in front of an audience, in a band who love my songs, was happening, and I had to be there.

As the song says, sometimes it’s not too late.

Our headliner was MJ Hibbett. Just as Shelf were the very first comedy act I put on, Hibbett was the first musician to play at one of our nights, way back in the noughties at London Loves.

He was in fine form, and had brought along the lovely Charlotte, the fragrant Steve, and our mutual friend Chris T-T, lurking cunningly at the back.

He was perfect. He even had a song about fire alarms, which was appropriate as ours had been going off on occasion all night. This was followed by some of his best-loved songs, full of humour and love and nostslgia: the end of the night student love of Chips and Cheese, Pint of Wine; Hibbett classic Billy Jones is Dead; the definitive ballad of love in the IT community, It Only Works Because You’re Here; and, to close, a cover of the old American folk song, Boom Shake The Room.

You can read Hibbett’s own take on the nite here!

I had one last trick up my sleeve. Knowing members of the Brighton Folk Choir were scattered about the audience, I welcomed Jo Burke to the stage to lead us in a stirring rendition of Cornish Farewell Shanty, the harmonies filling the room with real emotion and beauty.

It all went better than I could have possibly hoped.

This Machine Kills Wasps will return!!

[1] whereas she’s done 124 standup comedy gigs, at the time of writing.

[2] The two genders.

[3] Aka naked