What is it like to switch from working in a comedy group to doing everything yourself? We find out here...

Hi, Phil Mann here, I've been performing with award-winning comedy team BattleActs since our first gig 8 years ago, and since then nearly every single member has broken out on their own.

I'm returning to the Vault festival with my fourth solo hour: Nothingism, a surreal take on media, popular culture and sketch comedy. I'm here to offer you the worst reasons to break out on your own in comedy.

At first they sound great: Have more money for yourself; More stage time; Complete creative control; Choose your hours; Don't rely on anyone else... But is it all that's cracked up to be? Let's take a look.

Now there's just you (or, as it were, me). And, y'know, Ollie's solo show did really well this year, so the pressure's on.

"There'll be more money."

There's not more money. Before you had six people to flyer, post on Facebook, write the emails, bring their parents to be the only audience. Now you have to bring only your parents. And then disguise yourself as a small child, and become adopted by a whole new family, and live a secret life with new parents, pretending to grow up, go through puberty, get old and die.

Before you had six people to disguise themselves as children, become adopted by a whole new family...

"More stage time for me."

But at what cost? Now instead of writing one sixth of the show, you now have to write all the sixths.

It's also about balance. Especially as Brendan's solo show did really well in Edinburgh.

Normally, when on the stage I use the other performers to balance my feng shui. Without them my feng shui sometimes causes audience members to be ripped from their seats and thrown across the stage. Sometimes the feng shui gets out of the venue, even, and tears down the streets, howling, knocking over pedestrians and postcards.

Sure you get more stage time, but at what cost? A human cost. You have to do the work that previously six people did, but also with the guilt of spilt blood on your conscience.

"It's like SNL."

Comedians leaving [US TV show] Saturday Night Live made going solo 'cool'.

Only, it's not like SNL. The American juggernaut of blockbuster TV is an incredible success both in itself and at pissing off human pork scratching and president-elect Donald Trump. The people leaving its ranks have gone on to become stars in their own right.

You'd like to leave SNL and be like one of their famous alumni. You know, like how Kiell or Mike from BattleActs have gone on to do lots of telly this year.

But what if instead of being Will Ferrell in Anchorman, you might end up like Will Ferrell in Anchorman 2? Or instead of being Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop. You might be Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop 3? Or instead of Zach Galifianakis in the Hangover you might be Zach Galifianakis in the Hangovers 2 and 3? Or you might be Rob Schneider.

Maybe you are Rob Schneider. Hey, screw you Rob Schneider. I hate you.

"Complete Creative Control"

Only now you realise that the other guys were holding you back for good reason. Remember when you thought it was funny to open the show by destroying the venue, salting the earth and forcing the audience to undergo a diaspora, scattering them to the corners of the globe? Well Anna didn't think that's funny and she was at the Globe. Actually, ha, now I think about it, that is pretty funny.

"Choose When and Where You Gig."

You can't gig on Monday evening any more. You've got to care for Rob Schneider, who now sits in your home lunging at you with a leather whip. Clean up after Rob Schneider who strangles custard pastries all over your Roman Accubita couch. And all the little tiny Rob Schneiders that hatch under Rob Schneider's skin and eat their way out.

And then on Tuesday there's the court case from all those people your feng shui murdered.

And for God's sake Chris from BattleActs went to RADA.

"I Don't Have to Rely On Anyone Else"

Sure you don't. Now you're all alone. All. Alone. Or are you? What if there's someone watching you? Reading this, your internal monologue, and writing it down and publishing it on an internet blog pretending to be an article when actually it's your inner thoughts.

"How do they know what I'm thinking?" you cry. But it's too late now. They already have your thoughts.

You should've stuck with your other comedy chums. They kept your thoughts inside your head. They kept you safe. Now you're all alone. And Emily's solo show was filled with actual jokes not just weird stuff.

Break a leg.

To find out more about Phil visit phil-mann.com