Bon giorno mes amis, or something equally pretentious and incorrect

Today is the last day in May, and I am afraid. This is why:

On the first of June I cease to exist as plain old me. No, this isn't a suicide journal (Chris Morris did that already in Blue Jam), but a blog charting my exciting and terrifying new existence as a stand-up comedian.

I have never been funny in my life. I have no illusions or delusions about this. There are those people who hold court at house parties (there's always one, usually in the kitchen) who are told, "You're really funny, honestly, you should be a comedian!". There are those people who are included on guest lists specifically because "they're a right laugh". There are those people who can think of a quip or scathing retort at the drop of a hat and set the room roaring with laughter.

I am not one of those people.

I want to see if it's possible to make oneself funny. If I can overcome the terror, that is.

I have two months to get ready. Then I'm performing a stand-up show at Edinburgh Fringe throughout August.

Oh, hell.