October 2025
I had done my usual pre-trip research to determine if there were any shows I needed to target. Other than a Caitlin Peluffo and Friends fandango at Union Hall, there was nothing unmissable, so I intended to just revisit a cross section of favourites and try to hit some new places. You be the judge of how well I achieved that.
Sunday is a decent night for bar shows but NYC was in the midst of a storm so ease of logistics was a factor in choosing a location. The Beauty Bar is about 100 yds from the subway and I've had some success at their Secret Sauce night so that was where I kicked things off. Some mild stupidity on my part resulted in a late arrival but fortunately things were just getting going. The host was decent and the overall standard far from appalling. Kelly Bachman, the only woman on the bill, was the one name I was able to catch.
Monday night often consists of a single pint at The Stand's Frantic show, followed by an hour or so at Whiplash at nearby UCB. Whiplash had been replaced by a ticketed show that didn't particularly appeal and the only name of interest at Frantic was host Aaron Berg who, if past experience was anything to go by, wouldn't actually be there. A while back I had been to an odd little show called Paperweight in a building on the far side of McCarren Park and decided that it might be worth a punt for this particular Monday. Off I set on the L line to Williamsburg and then executed a confident stride across the park. Pushing the door open it seemed quite quiet, even for a place hosting the sort of comedy I go to. I stuck my head round the corner to observe that there was definitely no show happening. The bartender confirmed as much, even going out of his way to come round from behind the bar and point to a poster showing what was scheduled to be on. Paperweight definitely wasn't listed. Eventbrite had lied to me! Super - fail number one. As I hurriedly retraced my steps to the Bedford L stop I decided that Frantic would have to be my fallback.
I arrived just after 9 to find manager Joe Harary was seating and as he'd already given away all my preferred door-adjacent spaces, he made an extravagant gesture to a central seat in the back row.
In a break from the norm, Aaron actually WAS there and set about challenging the quite quiet crowd. He made the mistake of chatting to a fairly dull Scottish couple in the front row which didn't set the room alight. Sienna Hubert-Ross was up first and Geo Perez, Elle Orlando and Bassam Shawl all put in appearances. No one stood out particularly, apart from maybe Bassam.
The following night we tried to go to a show imaginatively titled "Tuesday Night Comedy" at 30 Love, a tennis bar if you can conceive of such a thing. Although the tickets suggested that the show started at 6pm, the text within the show's blurb explicitly stated "Every Other Tuesday. Doors at 7pm, Show at 8PM". We turned up to find a dismally quiet bar where startled staff informed us that the happy hour consisted of Bud Light and Aperol Spritz and that the comedy was already over. Super duper - that's fail number two.
Girlfriend, who had only come along as she was intrigued by the idea of a tennis bar, decided to head back and I set off for my fallback option, another new punt called Big Wave Comedy Show in a cool East Village bar called Ten Degrees. The small room was atmospheric enough but would struggle to hold more than 20. I think we peaked at about 12. We had a girl host, a tall bloke, one of the producers (Spencer Wright) and then three more blokes. It went fine, the tall bloke was good and the bar has an excellent happy hour. I went home reasonably contented.
On the Wednesday girlfriend had a matinee to go to (and not just ANY matinee but Bill and Ted doing Waiting for Godot) so I decided to call in on the 3pm open-mic at the nearby West Side Comedy Club. I got there about 3:15pm. Trevor Noah was playing at the Beacon Theatre across the road so there was plenty of bustling activity around the block. The side door to the venue stated that you should use it to enter if it was open and indeed it was. I descended the stairs, past framed head shots of assorted comics and came to the glass door into the venue. The door was locked and it was very apparent that nothing was happening inside. It was in almost complete darkness with the chairs stacked up on the tables. I went back outside and checked the venue's own website. As it was now past 3pm the show was no longer showing on the site. Even if it had been, how would that have helped? Fail number three! This really is tremendously inept work from the Scottish lad!
The following night I had planned to visit the Bushwick Comedy Club. The website claimed that there were 12 tickets left for the performance but before I got the chance to purchase one of them, the show mysteriously disappeared from the site's list! I didn't actually turn up at an empty venue so it doesn't fully justify the classification of a "fail". My backup was Landline Comedy at a brewery in Gowanus, Brooklyn called Wild East Brewing. It's quite an atmospheric performance space and the show went well. Host Andre Medrano was decent and I really enjoyed Kevin McCaffrey. Kelly Bachman put in another appearance, again the only woman on the bill. Afterwards Kelly noticed my Monkey Barrel t-shirt and ruefully observed how she wished she'd "gone with them" when she appeared at the Fringe last year. I bought Andre a beer and we chatted about his upcoming trip to Barcelona.
On Friday we were spending the day in Astoria, Queens. There's a venue up there called QED that I had been meaning to call into for a while. A plan to visit it earlier in the trip for a proper show hadn't worked out but since we were in the area and they had an open-mic on at 6pm, we figured we could kill two birds with one stone. It turned out to be a nice enough space - a small bar/waiting area at the front and then the performance space at the back with the stage to the rear. Only seven comics turned up so including the host, the whole thing was wrapped up in about 40 minutes - they were getting four minutes, 10 seconds each. One woman, seven guys.
The following day was the only show we'd actually planned in advance to see. The last time we'd been in Union Hall was when we turned up without tickets to see something called The British are Coming - the clear highlight of which was James Acaster. This time it was Caitlin Peluffo with guests Jill Weiner, Alex Kumin, Ethan Simmons Patterson and Peter Revello. While Acaster's show had had a line of people an hour before show time, Caitlin's gig was a little quieter. I think we made it to about the 20 mark. We saw Chloe Radcliffe arrive which was odd as she wasn't listed. She was to replace Peter Revello which isn't exactly a fair swap but the tickets were very reasonably priced. Caitlin was doing a run through for a taping on the Tuesday night. She did very well, although was clearly a little nervous about the upcoming record. Ethan was probably the next best. We had the option of seeing Todd Barry at the West Side Comedy Club after but Saturday night is never the best time to consume comedy in NYC.
Monday night had, as always, the option of Frantic at The Stand. There was also a "headliners" show of interest at the Bushwick Comedy Club, the highlight of which was Nathan MacIntosh. At some point on the day itself Nathan was replaced by someone else, lessening the appeal of the lineup. We hadn't visited The Olive Tree on this trip so we decided that that would suffice for comedy. The first three weekdays can often be a chance to see bigger names at the Comedy Cellar/Olive Tree as they're not on the road. We arrived and got seated quite far from "the action" i.e. the comics table. Girlfriend suggested that it might be more illuminating to sit at the bar (right beside the table) so we relocated over there and ordered a bottle of red wine.
There were initially three comics at the table, the only one of which I recognised was Daniel Simonsen. After a bit of eavesdropping it became apparent that the comic immediately behind me was Aziz Ansari. He had written, directed and starred (along with Keanu) in a film that was premiering in New York that weekend so he might have been in town for that.
At some point all of the following were hanging out across three tables at the back of the restaurant: Jim Norton, Bobby Kelly, Dan Soder, Dan Naturman, Jon Laster, Alex Edelman and KC Shornima. There was quite a bit of talk about touring in Europe. The Bill Murray was spoken about fondly and Sean Walsh and Jamali Maddix seemed to be held in high regard. Michelle Wolf's living arrangements (based in Barcelona, gigging in Europe and popping back to NYC occasionally) were also spoken of enviously.
When I pretended to go to the bathroom (in order to catch a moment of a show) Alex Edelman was describing his parents. I might be doing him a disservice but I think this material has been round a while. He used to open with "I'm from a really racist part of Boston. Called Boston" for many many years.
As we left one of the staff was outside so I decided to ask her about the progress of the new room. "The McDonalds one?" she replied. Well OBVIOUSLY the McDonalds one, I thought but didn't say. How many new rooms are you building right now? She didn't know much about it, other than it was a single performance space, would have a mezzanine and might be ready in January.
Tuesday was our final night. Based on my positive reviews of the previous week's Big Wave Comedy at Ten Degrees girlfriend agreed to join me. The good happy hour might also have been a factor. It wasn't a wild success. Cody Marino opened and did as well as he was allowed to by a group of middle-aged women. There was a fairly decent bloke called John Brown who isn't doing himself any favours with that stage name. Co-producer Drew Beeker drove things pretty hard into the ground, ran the light by probably 5 minutes and used up any good will either of us had left. We legged it when his interminable set eventually ended, followed by two girls who looked genuinely traumatised by what had happened. I think we were four ninths of the audience, so a significant departure. As we finished our drinks by the bar, one of the girls reiterated how bad a time they had had. You get used to it love.
Trip Stats
Shows attended - 7
Shows failed to attend - 3
New venues - 2
Expenditure - $14
June 2025
We were spending some time in upstate New York this trip and I guessed (and was proven correct) that my comedy viewing opportunities up there might be few and far between. Consequently, I had to be focused while I was in the city.
First up, as is often the case, was Stand NYC's Monday night show, Frantic. Regular fixture manager Joe Harary had been missing on my last visit (he was working at SXSW) but he was present and correct this time and we had a decent chat about his Austin trip. As usual he was very laissez-faire with regards to my seating. Advertised host Aaron Berg wasn't appearing "so things will go smoother".
Chris Riggins, who was new to me, hosted and did OK. LA-based Subhah Agarwal drove the show pretty hard into the ground but Rocky Dale Davis (also a new face) significantly cheered things up. I shall look out for him. Sienna Hubert-Ross did better than I normally experience her, Andrew Manning didn't appal and when Charles Engle appeared I decided that I'd had sufficient fun. One "Good" and two "OKs" is a solid return for a visit to Frantic.
The following night we called in to the Olive Tree for a drink at the bar and some eaves-dropping of Jon Laster arguing with an out-of-his-depth Jim Norton on the subject of immigration. I'd heard on the We Might Be Drunk podcast that the new Comedy Cellar venue would be the biggest one yet. We had a look as we walked past the site and it didn't seem anywhere near completion. I asked the barman if he knew when it would be operational and he estimated "four months". This seems ambitious but I'm intrigued by the development.
Apropos of nothing, I heard recently on Barry Katz's podcast that the four NYC Comedy Cellar rooms host up to a total of 74 shows per week. Isn't that astonishing?
Thursday was to be the Bushwick Comedy Club, a BYO place I'd visited once before. I'd noticed that they often offered discounted tickets to their mailing list for the (presumably quiet) Thursday evening show and so it would turn out. In fact the deal was a generous one - ten entirely free tickets were available so I grabbed one and prepared for the not inconsiderable subway journey to Bushwick.
The room was much as I remembered it, though they'd covered up some seats, leaving only three rows of eight. There was no known poison on the bill and Chloe Radcliffe was up first. She did reasonably, as did Wolfgang Hunter and host Darius Dinkins. I'll keep an eye out for both.
Union Hall is sort of a comedy club. It's a cool, Park Slope bar with a large performance space in the basement and has multiple comedy shows on each night. While I was browsing through their calendar, I realised that there was a show that Friday at 5pm called The British Are Coming. Hosted (and produced) by Chloe Radcliffe, it also featured (her beau) Stuart Laws and James Acaster, all for the very reasonable price of $15 plus booking fee. OBVIOUSLY it had sold out, and in fact had done so in a matter of minutes. However, the website suggested that returns (which I guess is the equivalent of no shows) would be available on a first come first served basis. Given that the upstairs bar had a happy hour from 4pm, it didn't seem too much of a hardship to stand in line drinking cheap beer on the off chance that we might get in at the last minute.
Arriving at 4pm there was already a queue of about 20. We stood hopefully in line and after about a quarter of an hour the person next to girlfriend asked if she knew how to access their tickets electronically. When GF said that we didn't have tickets, a woman a couple of places in front said that she had spares and that we could buy them off her. So with that delightful piece of luck, we soon after found ourselves about three rows from the stage in a perfect position.
Chloe did fine, using a lot of the material I'd heard less than 24 hours before. Stuart was on for about 30 minutes and mined his last two Fringe shows. I won't spoil the conceit of James' new hour but what we got to see was extremely enjoyable. He went on quite the diversion regarding his hatred of Newark Airport and that seemed particularly heart-felt. He's since booked in a WIP at my local comedy club, Monkey Barrel.
If you looked up free comedy in NYC on Eventbrite they seemed to list a show EVERY day from 4pm to 7pm at the Comic Strip Live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. It was a confusing entry, titled "Sip, Snack & Laugh: Daily Happy Hour at The Comic Strip", promising happy hour drinks, sports screens and the chance (?) that a comedian might drop in. What? Given that the lineups at the actual club were not that appealing, it seemed like a straightforward way to take a look at what is, historically at least, regarded as a comedy institution.
We made our way across the park and arrived outside. There were plenty of signs advertising a happy hour but precious little indication of comedy happening any time soon. Was it an open mic? We went inside and the guy couldn't have been more surprised. He scrabbled around, getting a till set up and serving us our $5 beers. It was literally the three of us in there so I took the opportunity to explore, wandering in to the showroom. It's a nice enough space but the seating was unfriendly and there didn't appear to be any draft beer options.
When I explained the reason for our visit (sad comedy anorak wants to tick off famous clubs) he quickly offered us no-cover tickets for that night. We were already committed to the Fat Black Pussycat Bar at 7:30pm so politely declined. A call from a comic a few minutes later forced him into an awkward conversation with him clearly not wanting to reveal in front of us that the show was so quiet that it might get cancelled. It wasn't surprising. The lineup was unremarkable; it was a Monday night in the (staid) Upper East Side and there were plenty of better comedy products elsewhere.
We paid for our one bottle of Brooklyn IPA each, took a few photos and departed. I can't see why I would go back.
A number of stars have to align for me to visit the Comedy Cellar. Firstly, the venue has to be either the Fat Black Pussycat Bar or Lounge. It also has to be relatively early - a start time of much after 9pm and I'm not going to remember what happened. Finally, the lineup needs to be sufficiently strong. There was, on the face of it, one challenge there.
Gray West hosted, as he did on our last visit, and was energetic and entertaining. Billed Matthew Broussard had been replaced by Nick Griffin and that was not a good thing. The front row of international tourists seemed happy enough but the rest of the room had quite a bad time. Then KC Shornima (the challenge) appeared. She's on at the Pleasance this year btw. The best thing I could say at the end of her set was that things could only improve. And so they did. We had the dependable Peter Revelo, a tremendous Leclerc Andre and Dan Soder closed to much applause. Overall, it was a success but I do wish Broussard had shown up.
GF took the sensible decision to go home and I decided to cram in JUST ONE more show. Despite its very modest crowds and non-existent cover charge, Whiplash at UCB is still going. And Shalewa Sharp continues to host. As she took the comics down to the venue, she asked if I was on that night. No, not tonight.
The crowd size rose and fell but probably averaged about 20. After opening, Shalewa brought on a red-haired girl called Maggie whose surname I missed. She had one good joke, about looking like a Boston cop's daughter. Shaun Murphy was up next and put in a shift but didn't achieve much. When the next comic wasn't one I was familiar with I made my exit. You get what you pay for.
Trip Stats
Shows entered - 5
Comedy location drive-bys - 2
Expenditure - $32 each
March 2025 - A Flying Visit and Free Comedy Near Our House!
With only seven nights in New York, would I be able to cram in enough terrible comedy? You bet I could!
We kicked things off with a visit to the Fat Black Pussycat Lounge, by some margin my favourite of the (currently) four Comedy Cellar venues. The lineup was strong, with no issues and only one unknown, host Gray West. I had Ethan Simmons-Patterson listed as a decent comic but the original rating was from so long ago, I couldn't really put a face to the somewhat-extravagant name. He opened strongly and was followed by Ryan Hamilton, Peter Revello, Ian Fidance and Jeff Arcuri closed. You'll note that the Comedy Cellar operation is untroubled by the idea of a gender-balanced lineup. Everyone did well, especially Jeff, who must be about to move up to the next level.
Monday night is a sweet spot for questionable bills. Stand NYC had its regular Frantic show in the upstairs room and that could be followed by Whiplash at nearby UCB. Both shows are free and a cynic might remark that you get what you pay for. I seem to get treated quite favourably at the Stand. This could be because a) they know of my huge influence in the comedy industry b) they think I'm someone else. Place your bets now. Manager Joe was missing (he was at SXSW) so I was seated somewhat awkwardly by his replacement. She returned shortly after and very deferentially offered me a different seat closer to the door. Ah yes, the old Fringe Monkey status working its magic.
I missed the name of the host but jotted down "small red neck child". Red neck was his description. Natalie Cuomo was up next and drove the show pretty hard into the ground. When a curly-haired chap came up and didn't immediately grab my attention I decided it was time to walk round to Whiplash.
Shalewa Sharp was hosting as usual. She brought up Babs Gray (who was in from LA), Gastor Almonte and a gay chap with a mullet. Gastor did best and I made a mental note to try to see him again. As it turned out, it would only be a matter of days.
Wednesday night could have been a visit to Ambush in Williamsburg but we'd signed up for what turned out to be a music open mic in a venue called the Pink Frog, also in Williamsburg. The tickets were supposedly $27 each and had we actually paid that, I think I might have felt slightly ripped off. As the start of Ambush ticked closer and the standard of performance at the open mic very much plateaued, we made moves to relocate. GF went home to watch tennis and I headed for Ambush's new location, a tattoo parlour of all places.
On arriving it transpired that a) it was BYOB b) they weren't QUITE ready to start. I headed across the road to Whole Foods and faffed about endlessly trying to find cold beer. Not long after returning Ali O'Neil kicked things off. I managed to fit in her, one bloke whose name I missed, Gastor again and producer Brittany Cardwell before the beer was finished. As well as offering you the chance to enter a raffle for a $200 tattooing voucher, you can get pierced by a masked person in the corner WHILE the show is taking place. This a suggestion I will be making to Monkey Barrel's top brass - at all times I expect to be able to get myself pierced during George Fox's hosting, perhaps more than once.
Thursday was our final night and it was to be a very odd thing. GF had noticed that there was a free show scheduled for Friday early evening at one of the Lincoln Center venues - right on our doorstep. The lineup was questionable but then it transpired that there was another show on the Thursday, offering a considerably more appealing set of comics. The series was called Marcus Russell Price Presents the Funniest Humans I Know. The original lineup was Petey DeAbreu, Rachel Feinstein, Alex Kumin, Mark Normand and Shane Torres. PLUS there was a DJ. Who doesn't want to see a DJ at 6:30pm??? We did a drive-by in advance to determine exactly where the show was (it was in the atrium where they sell discounted tickets to Broadway shows) and what the beer-smuggling prospects were (they sold 330ml cans of Montauk Wave Chaser IPA - a beer that can also be sourced from a local grocery store).
We turned up in good time and avoided getting searched on entry. What, these beers? No, they're for later. Definitely not for drinking during the show. We were delighted to find that the sunglasses-wearing DJ was playing tunes to a disinterested and somewhat elderly crowd for well over half an hour after the start time. He certainly couldn't have been replaced by a playlist, no sirree. We passed the time watching a man eat a whole roast chicken he'd brought in with him, followed by a punnet of strawberries.
Eventually Marcus came on and introduced host Petey, who did very well. He dwelled on the fact that he thought he was going to be playing the "proper Lincoln Center". Rachel had disappeared from the bill in favour of "special guests". Alex's set didn't come to much and when Petey was getting ready to bring up Mark Normand, Mark crept forward to just behind our seats. Petey dragged out the intro, causing an anguished Mark to whisper "Ah I came too soon" to us. GF gave him a fist bump on his way past us. Mark did well and although he persevered with his terrible "ICE" joke, I was delighted that it elicited a groan from the audience. Shane was also excellent and when the first of the apparently two special guests was brought up and I didn't recognise him, we decided that this was an ideal opportunity to leave.
Trip Stats
Shows entered - 5
Percentage of shows that were a wild success - 40%
Number of beers smuggled in - I honestly don't know what you're talking about
Expenditure - $18