You’ve done a rehearsal in someone’s living room.
You’ve performed in a dusty cold room above a pub to an audience of 3, 2 of which left in the interval.
You’ve slept in a room with 4 other people in Edinburgh.
Edgar has forgotten your name at least 8 times, even though you’ve known him for two years.
You watch films and think ‘that would be a good improv scene’.
Something weird happens to you and you think ‘that would be a good scene’.
You do anything at all and you think ‘that would be a good scene’.
Your non-impro friends refer to impro as ‘that thing’, as in ‘we came to see you in that thing a year ago, do you still do it?’
You tried to learn lines for a play/film once and it annoyed you.
You’ve found yourself saying ‘that’s not how you do a Harold’.
You’ve corrected someone for saying impro or improv.
You’ve typed ‘Chicago improv summer school’ into google.
You know what the Crunchy Frog Collective is, and where the name comes from.
You’ve compiled a list of famous people and films that were born out of impro, and use this list to justify the large amount of time you spend doing impro.
When someone blocks you in real life you feel smug because you know what they’re doing, like a God of imagination
You’ve watched the Robin Williams episodes of Whose Line Is It Anyway on YouTube.
You’ve found yourself discussing minor points of impro techniques, and life in general, at midnight in a McDonalds after a show.
Everything you do in your spare time seems to be based in a room above a pub.
Your Amazon wish list is made up of obscure improv and drama books.
You see stand-ups on TV and think “if I had been doing stand-up rather than so much impro, I’d be there by now”.
Improvisation My Dear Mark Watson made you cry. Everything about it, the title, the producer, even the fucking font. And you actually liked Mark Watson too, how dare they do that to them.
You’ve been dancing in the Arts Club bar until 4am on a tuesday night.
You always order number 26 at The Miller.
You meet someone new on facebook and find you’ve already got 46 friends in common.
You watch League of Gentleman and think ‘I could improvise that’.
You’ve made Edinburgh plans in a pub with someone you’ve known for 5 minutes.
The first time you ever met someone was on stage where you played a goblin, they played a troll, and it ended with a kiss.
Your group has spent 60 quid on food and drink in a pub in order to get the room for free, rather than spend 50 quid renting a proper rehearsal room somewhere else.
You know the name of the bloke with the beard at The Rag Factory.
Improv Classes and Shows – now fully operational in 2012.