An Irishman finds a old lamp, rubs the dust from the side, and out pops a genie. “I will grant you two wishes.”

The Irishman thinks for a moment. “I want a pint glass that will refill itself with beer every time I empty it.” The genie nods his head and *poof* a pint glass appears in the Irishman’s hand, full of ice cold beer. He downs the beer and, sure enough, a fresh refill appears.

“Brilliant. Give me another one of those.”
———-

A few weeks ago, I hosted Maffia Comedy for the first time in 2025. It’s weird to say that in April, considering that I practically lived there for the past several years. My availability has been more limited and doing more sets and less hosting is only good for me. Plus, that club owner is well sick of me. Familiarity breeds contempt.

Hosting less often means taking it less for granted, at least for me. I’ve written before that being the host means not feeling like one of the comics, so it’s more work than fun. And like any other job, there were days when I groaned at the thought of needing to leave my couch and go host a comedy club that I love. I do try to not be an entitled comic, but it’s very easy to slip into that mode.

Now, since it had been so long since the last time I hosted- not only at Maffia, but anywhere- I was more excited about it than usual. I got there early and helped set things up, the plan being that the club owner and I would grab some food before the show. With the room prepared, we had time for a beer before dinner. He came back with two beers and two shots of Jäger, as an ironic toast to a local comic who had recently announced on social media they had quit.

Now, not to throw shade on that person, if we’re supposed to announce it when we quit, I can name at least fifty people who must feel right foolish for just going away quietly. While I don’t like it when funny people quit, when I saw the announcement the first thing that leapt to mind was Willy Wonka deadpanning, “No, stop, come back.” Since you can never tell how comics will take a joke on social media- let that statement sink in- I wanted to, but refrained from, adding this as a comment:

Dear [ENTER COMIC NAME HERE],

While we are saddened to see you leave, you must give at least one month’s notice, so we expect to see you in the office on Monday. Also, we want to remind you of the Do-Not-Compete clause in your contract (Part 2, Section B, subparagraph 2c), so you have agreed to not engage in any other cultural activity for at least three months. Naturally, any remaining vacation days will be included in your final paycheck, and while the fiscal year for Dick Jokes Inc began April 1, you are welcome to submit any receipts from April 1 to 10 for Friskvårdsbidrag.

We drank and shot the shit and then noticed we didn’t have time for food, so might as well fill up with another beer. I’m hardly a lightweight, but with thirty minutes to showtime and an empty stomach, I was feeling the shot and two beers. And the third I bought myself. It suddenly hit me that, after not hosting in months, I was about to take the stage unprepared. I was reminded of stress dreams where I’m back in school and have to take a test I didn’t study for.

Fortunately, muscle memory kicked in, my hosting sets aren’t much different than my regular sets, and it was a very nice crowd there to have a good time. I took it slow and nursed that third beer. Practically ran home after the show, inhaled some leftovers, and passed out early. Rock ‘n roll lifestyle.

Back to host Saturday night, neither of us much in the mood for drinking, we opted for food instead of beer. I would have a beer before the show, of course, not because I’m an alcoholic but because I’m superstitious. Well, I suppose both could be true, but I noticed long ago that the times I have made a conscious decision to not drink before a show, those shows have always gone to shit. I don’t think it’s the beer, but me just taking it too seriously and not being relaxed to blame.

This crowd, however, included three women who were already shitfaced when they walked into the room. I’ve written before about Swedes and their troubled connection to alcohol. Sober in a crowd, they’re polite, rarely heckle, but are less likely to laugh. Drunk, they let it all hang out, but are more likely to heckle, and what they say is usually garbled nonsense you can’t do anything with.

One of the trio was clearly worse off than the others, repeatedly shushed by me, by people around her, even by the club owner. At one point – in the middle of the first half – she stopped me on my way to the back of the room, having introduced the next comic, to loudly ask where the headliner was. The headliner hadn’t arrived yet, so I told her they would be there soon, then promised, then promised I promised. Sadly, this woman would be thrown out during the break by bouncers, but on the bright side, her two friends couldn’t care less and were happy to remain for the rest of the show.

When the headliner arrived, I learned that they’d been at birthday party, a party they’d return to as soon as the show was over. Said headliner clearly had a bit of a buzz on, which didn’t really have a negative impact on their performance. Afterwards, I said, “It was fun to see you a bit looser up there tonight,” which they heard as, “I was a loser up there tonight?”

Ah, booze.