comic routine

I was one of several people who had been asked to appear as a stand-up comedian in front of a live audience. I was backstage listening to the person performing before me, firing jokes and one-liners, and the large audience laughing raucously. It came time for my routine so I walked on stage and crossed to a high stool, where I sat. I looked around and realised that the audience had thinned out dramatically—perhaps only fifteen or so people, mostly very young, were left. I also realised that I had come on stage too early, that the MC was only now introducing me and there I was, already sitting on the stool, missing the opportunity for a grand entrance. The buttons on my top were undone, and while the MC chatted amiably to the crowd, I fiddled with the buttons, trying to do them up again. I saw the MC turn to look at me, embarrassed at my ill-timed entrance and my disarray. It was then that I also realised that I didn’t have a routine, that I didn’t know any jokes. I trawled my memory but couldn’t rake up anything funny at all. I wondered how I would fill the minutes allocated to my performance and my mind was blank.