Gimme your best LA nightclub stand-up routine...

[Indrid Cold]

First of all, I think we can all agree that the life of a stand-up in a neon-strewn, celebrity-strewn LA nightclub is FAR superior to what we've got at the minute? Everyone? OK, then. So, let's say a very eccentric Yanqui promoter has noticed your UNIQUE PUBLIC PERSONA on https://chatrooms.talkwithstranger.com and has offered you a full-time gig at his swanky nightclub (He's eccentric. You notice that, in the place of his right eye, there's just a tiny video of Gilbert Gottfried just laughing, and laughing).

So far, so good. The only problem is, you've now gotta think of an actual routine, and I reckon it's deceptively hard. All that musing, thoughtful Stewart Lee stuff ain't gonna help you now, 'cos they're AMERICAN. So then, what vibe do you go for? They don't like surreality, except under special conditions, like when Richard Pryor used it, so I thought maybe I'd just try to be the White, British Richard Pryor.

I'll be honest, this is all I've got so far:

Coldie: *"I like it when you've got to go to the stock room at work, y'know, up those dank metal stairs, the converted fire escape, and it FEELS, right, it FEELS like you're going into a dungeon, but if that's the case, how come you're going UP the stairs? And you get in there, and you see the box of invoices you want, and it's on the top of some racking that gives you the vertigo from that EMM EFFING dream, y'know, the super-real one you have just before you die?. And you get up there, AND YOU CAN FEEL YOUR ASS RUBBING ON THE CEILING. You look through the little window, and there's a seagull saying like, 'Sir, you do know you're actually in the sky right now?' And Yvonne from the Sales Office comes in and says, 'You having fun up there?', and you be like, "Lady, MY ASS IS RUBBING ON THE CEILING".

Eh?