I can't believe that I woke up more tired today than I was when I got home from Oxford on Thursday night. At least the reward for having got nothing written should have been to have been well rested for the next bit. But I was frazzled and dopey before I even set off for Nam... Chelten-NAM (as the old Eddie Izzard joke went, though suspect it might have predated him - apparently it's a Ted Chippington one, though I still think I recall Izzard doing it as well). I wasn't even in the mood for April Fools jokes. This is my 42nd April 1st and at least the 38th where I have been able to understand the concept. Life goes on too long and things start to get annoying when they come round so quick again. Maybe it'll start being funny because of the repetition at around number 57, but for the moment it's tedious. Like Valentine's Day where we put one day aside to express love, with April Fool with have one day aside for pranks, which a) makes them more predictable, though b) more satisfying when you get one through. There should be one day of the year when no one is allowed to fool anyone and another day when no one is allowed to express love and the rest of the year should be up for grabs.
I do like the way that everyone accepts that arbitrary midday law that if you fool someone after twelve then you yourself are the fool. How did that come about? And why does no one rebel against it? If nothing else it discriminates against the lazy and especially, ironically comedians, who are rarely up in time. No one complains, they just accept that "Oh yes, sorry, I tried to fool you after midday, and thus even though I fooled you, it is I who is the fool. I apologise." Grow some balls April Foolers. You should only fool in the afternoon. It's the one time your fooling is not expected and thus can have some impact.
Hopefully the relatively short drives from now on will mean I can make some progress with work, but this excessive weariness is dragging me down. It's not surprising perhaps. I am under a lot of strain and have a lot on and I am old. I feel like the real me is submerged somewhere deep within my body, whilst this zombie me carries ever onwards, destroying my body by eating and drinking too much and breaking all my moral and ethical codes and not doing any fucking work on the book. But I am trapped in my prison, like those baddies at the start of Superman II, in some kind of floating prison which I can only silently scream at the outside world and not affect anything. I am like General Zod (OK I had to look that up and if you knew it already then shame on you nerdo).
Just occasionally I have some moments of clarity, but I am trudging onwards like a mindless comedy drone, managing to navigate my car round the country whilst semi-comatose and then getting on stage and lip syncing my way through a show, which luckily is being played on a tape via my mouth so it really sounds like I am in control.
Please Baby Jesus let me sleep tonight!
The Cheltenham gig was fine, though it was strange having had three days off. I hadn't warmed up on the trumpet and beforehand started to worry that I couldn't remember the fingering to "Geno" by Dexys Midnight Runners. It is something that comes so naturally and has done every single night, that I don't have to think about it. Now I thought about it I had no idea what to do and convinced myself that I'd fuck it up when I got to that bit. As it happened it came out as naturally as the rest of the show, which did feel like it was on autopilot a little bit for me.
I had got to the venue early before the mic had been set up, but had heard the tech testing it, so assumed all would be OK. It was only when I was on stage that I realised the huge speakers had been set up in a place where anyone sitting on the front rows of the left or right wings had to strain to see me (and vice versa). This is in the aptly named Pillar Room where there are already some massive sight line issues due to there being two massive pillars on either side of the stage. I tried to shift position so that people would be able to see me every now and again, but was so over conscious of the problem during the opening monologue, where I have to plough on regardless, that it threw me a good deal. So once I got to the bit where I snap out of the Homeric style epic, I called out to the tech guys to ask if they could possibly move the speakers back a bit, as I was worried this was turning into a radio show for certain paying customers. The tech guys said nothing. I could see a couple of figures standing at the back, but they weren't interested. I asked again if anything could be done, as this seemed to be a fairly basic oversight in theatrical management, but no help was forthcoming. So I put it out there that I could just move the speakers myself. There was no cry of dissent so I had a go. The speakers were up on stands which made them practically movable and I managed to grapple the one stage left back a few feet so that everyone could see me. No one stepped forward to help me even though I was struggling a little.
When I got to the stage right one though I didn't hold it quite as effectively and got into a balancing act with it where it very nearly fell forwards on to the floor. The audience sat back and watched the spectacle actually gasping and oohing, but no one stepped forward to rescue me, even though I was in very real danger of either dropping the speaker from quite some height on to the floor or twisting my arm until it came off and spurted blood all over their faces. More pertinently no one from the venue came forward to assist or rescue their valuable equipment.
"Don't help me," I shouted at one of the men in the front row, "I mean I'm only doing this so you can see what's going on. Don't worry that I am breaking my fucking arm here!"
I think people thought it was part of the show, but luckily I managed to wrestle the second speaker back a few feet so nearly everyone could see me now.
I had hurt my wrist in the process though and made a joke about how I had expected to get such an injury on tour, but back in my hotel room after the show. It was a fun interlude, but I was in some discomfort for the rest of the first half and also a little bit perturbed and put out by the unexpected exercise and mild peril.
It probably helped get a good atmosphere going, but I was slightly astounded at how little the venue staff had cared about the predicament.
Indeed in the interval the tech guy came and laughed about how difficult I had found it to move the speakers and how they'd been standing at the back commenting and sniggering about the fact that I wouldn't move the second one.
Cheers. Nice devotion to your job mate. Really glad that I nearly ruptured something in the process. I should have known he'd be lackadaisical as when I'd arrived I thought I might have recognised him from the previous year and said so, he just said, "Oh I dunno. We get a lot of acts in here." Like I don't meet a lot of theatre staff. He could have pretended to recognise me. And slightly galling to think that he might have sat through a whole show and forgotten me entirely. Not even an "oh, yeah, maybe." But then I suspect he wasn't paying all that much attention today.
Still the rule here is that I just have to laugh the balls up off. You can't start having a go at the technicians for not knowing what they're doing. Well you can, but then you're a prima donna. Even if you do it retrospectively. After having had your arm twisted by a speaker that should never have been in that position.
Battled through my tiredness for the second half and I think it was all OK and that no one watching would have known I was a zombie with cleaning fluid in my brain being controlled by the ghost of Jeffrey Dahmer.
My phone signal had been down in the interval, so I didn't learn until I got back to my room that I had accidentally left the sticky label on the leg of my new jeans which indicates what size they are. You will know what I mean if you shop for jeans in Gap. No one thought to tell me personally. I did the whole show with a label on my jeans. If they'd told me I would have tried to pass it off as a deliberate cool and trendy thing to do. But instead I took it off in my hotel room and threw it in the bin.
My arm is gonna ache in the morning.
Oh yeah and by the way, the complete series of Time Gentlemen Please which I co-wrote with Al Murray, Stewart Lee and others is now
available on DVD. No one told me about this beforehand and there are unfortunately no extras or commentaries (as far as I know) and I don't think I will make any money from it. But it's a great little show and I am very proud of the writing on it, even though no one has ever really noticed it exists. And I suppose it's good that it's finally all available - Fist of Fun and TMWRNJ DVDs are not in the pipeline I am afraid and you'll have to take it up with the BBC if you don't like it. It's pretty cheap and there's 37 episodes, so treat yourself. I am hoping that I will at least get one for free, but we'll see.
