Last night’s show went fantastically well! I received some recommendations on twitter and got to sign my first autograph (woohoo!). But, as truth would have it, the show didn’t go quite so well it turned out. After a night of basking in the glory of a breakthrough and feeling like I am ready to make the Fringe my bitch, I get an email saying the show is still 12 minutes short. Gutted, I check my audio recording of the show, and alas, yes, I was ten minutes short of an hour.

I killed, the audience seemed satisfied ( nobody can fake laughter and applause like that), but the people paying me to be here want their money’s worth. Hm! Well, tonight I must stretch the funny and take it that much further. I shall buffer up my show with those South African references I have been afraid would leave them staring blankly at me, and hope they will somehow, be reached by that distant foreign tickle of “how curious yet friggin hilarious”.  Four shows in, if anyone asks if I would do this again… Yes. I am learning every goddam day and working so consciously and hard at a craft I thought I was well versed in. 

Tumi Morake plans on going out guns blazing. Must. Make.This.My.Bitch.