And now, the end is near… | Paul Daniels Magic World

And now, the end is near…

Only three more shows to do here in Edinburgh and, yes, there is a feeling of sadness inside me. I love this city; I love the regular walks to work in a funny little venue with peculiar dressing room conditions; I love bumping into other acts from all walks of show business. I will miss it all.

Looking around the million posters and leaflets yesterday, I remarked to another comedian, ‘You do realise that next week we will all be landfill…’
The month here has flown by so quickly. I have had hardly any spare time thanks to Bex, our PR, fixing up literally dozens of interviews and shows not only to do with the Fringe but also preparing the publicity for our coming tour of the UK. Please check out the tour dates page on www.pauldaniels.co.uk and help to spread the word if we are coming near to you.
The reviews (they seem to have dropped the word ‘crits’) have all been favourable except for one, yesterday, from the Express newspaper which once again proved how out of touch and unaware of show business our papers can be. I was delighted to be awarded the wooden spoon for telling the worst joke at the Fringe. I have been telling this ‘observational’ bit of humour for over 20 years about various posh places I have visited. It is supposed to be what I call a ‘groaner’ but every night it gets a groan then a laugh.
It is part of a set of three jokes (the rule of three always being a good ‘un) and it sets up beautifully the next two gags. Sadly the Express, who have not been to the show, and who have completely ignored the other reviews including the one in the Times the day before, wrote that I was the unfunniest man at the Fringe. Oh please, do us all a favour and do a News of the World vanish if you are going to get it so wrong.
That last paragraph may sound conceited, but it isn’t. I don’t believe mine was even the worst gag, and the winner was a gag that has been on the internet as a ‘blonde’ joke for years so the Express should have realised that such a ‘competition’ only exists to give more publicity to the Fringe and more power to the organiser’s elbow say I.
The packing has begun. As usual we leave out of the cases the required number of socks, underwear, shirts, and so on whilst shovelling everything else into cases. Unused props are being boxed and the computer/printer/DVD copier/photoprinter and so on are all being piled up ready for the van to be loaded on Sunday afternoon.
On Saturday night, after the show, all large props will be crated and I will leave myself with a set of lightweight but funny routines so that after the Sunday night show we can get on the road as quickly as possible. Then it will be a few hours driving before completing the journey the next day and this Edinburgh Fringe will become another memory on the show business highway.

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