I decided to go out for a run this morning as my exercise regime has ground to a terrible halt, allowing my belly to expand to the proportions of a heavily pregnant elephant (I hope I don't actually give birth to an elephant - I mean it would be cool to have a baby elephant following me around and stuff but don't like the idea of squeezing it through my urethral meatus).
Perhaps rashly I thought I would run up the hill and have a look at Lincoln Cathedral. It's quite a steep hill. In fact it is called Steep Hill which should maybe have been a clue. I felt surprisingly limber and lithe at the start, but even a light jog up the steepest part of Steep Hill made me have to pause for breath and walk for a bit. But at least I was out and about and doing some exercise and I was keen to get to the Cathedral.
Alas when I got there there was a five pound entry fee and I had come out without any cash so I just walked around the entrance bit and think about how Jesus would feel about good Christians like me having to pay to see his Holy place.
I jog/walked down the hill and passed a little enclave with benches in it, covered in snow drops and slabs of stone lying in the soil and the remnants of other grave monuments poking out of the earth. Clearly this had once been a graveyard or part of it (it was a small area) and then someone had turned it into a mini park for old people and over ambitious joggers to sit. I was feeling a bit unwell and was a little sick in my mouth, so I stopped to have a look at the prone gravestones. Most of them were too weathered to be read, but I found one that belonged to Edward Edman who died in 1842. I don't know if his bones were still underneath the ground here - I presume they had exhumed the bodies and then just lain the gravestones down (neatly) in the ground. I wondered about who Edward Edman was and what he had done and who he had loved and how he would feel about the fact that his gravestone was now a macabre decoration and hadn't even managed to stand for two centuries. Would he care? A part of me wanted to find out as much about him as possible and bring him back to life, in order not to make his life and death seem so pointless, but I also realised that even if I did that I would only be offering him the briefest of respites. In an eternity stretching onwards, even me talking about me 160 years on would not make much impact.
I also laughed at Edward Edman a bit though, because I could now call him Deadward Deadman. I bet he hadn't seen that coming. Of course the joke only lasts as long as I am still alive. But I am. So take that Edman, you loser. Look at me breathing and eating and jogging and throwing up in my own mouth. Bet you wish this could be you. But you can't even wish anymore cos your brain is just a load of soil and dust. Ha ha ha. You fucking dead idiot.
Someone on Twitter found out that an Edward Edman had died in Birmingham in 1842 and that according to the 1841 census Edward Edman lived on Lincoln High St. Did he ever try and run up Steep Hill? He would once have walked these very streets and passed the place where his gravestone would one day lie in the ground. And at least the details were still vaguely legible, unlike the other rotten and dusty twats whose stones lay beside him, whose names like them had been wiped from existence.
Bad luck dead-os. I am alive. I can foresee no time when these words will take on a hubristic irony.
It was a short drive to Sheffield and I had a lot of time to kill even once I had unloaded my stuff at the theatre and located a car park far away from my hotel. It was only now that I remembered
the nightmare I had had here last year. Luckily the lovely hotel was very close to the venue (much closer than I realised last year, when I lugged my stuff around a very circuitous route).
I went out to buy some DVDs and a Big Issue man tried to disguise his mirth at my moustache, but did so very inexpertly. He had shrieked with delight and went to tell his paper selling friend about me. I laughed about making him so amused.
I bought a couple of DVDs and had time to go back to the hotel to watch one. It was "The Invention of Lying" starring Ricky Gervais. I am a fan of most of Gervais' TV output, especially liking the first series of Extras (though thought the second series went badly awry by making his character a "success") and I am an enormous fan of the American version of the Office particularly.
But this film is very disappointing indeed and I hadn't expected too much from it. If the Razzies had any heart and balls then this would have won all kinds of awards, because the script and the performances are way worse than "All About Steve" which I saw on a plane and which at least raised a couple of laughs. But the many celebrity cameos shows that Gervais is Hollywood's darling at the moment and no one would dare to stand up to the plate and tell him that this film just isn't good and is a confused mess.
I was most disappointed by the outrageous product placement in the film. I assume Budweiser and Pizza Hut paid for the privilege of having their names emblazoned all over the film and I was surprised that Gervais, who I had seen as a man with some taste and principles would allow the film to turn into an advert in this way. Unless of course he just likes Pizza Hut and Budweiser and wants to big them up, in which case he has terrible taste, especially in beer.
Someone tweeted to say that we had had product placement in TMWRNJ when we mentioned Golden Grahams every week, but as I pointed out a) we were saying how disgusting they were and b) we weren't being paid to say that. Maybe the producers got nothing for the mentions, but I doubt that. It made one of the only amusing bits, where a man gives a half-hearted, truthful endorsement to Coke lose some of its impact.
And whilst it was maybe brave to satirise religion in a mainstream Hollywood film, the messages of the piece are rather mixed. Firstly it's not just a world where people can't lie, it's a word where they have to say whatever they're thinking - except sometimes when they don't. And Gervais' character lives in this world, yet seems constantly surprised when people are blunt with him. Surely he'd see this as the norm and not let it affect him. But mainly it's about an attractive and vacuous woman realising that physical appearance is not as important as what someone is like - but firstly Gervais character is not all that nice underneath (though he stops short of using his powers for rape so we must love him for that) and is a liar, but it's not like this isn't something women are generally aware of. Maybe a film where a man ended up with an unattractive woman might be a bit of a first, but in this film the ugly guy still gets the prize of a beautiful woman. So that's all right then.
I hope Gervais gets on with writing TV shows, because he is better than this schlocky mainstream crap and it seems to me that TV is where all the interesting and exciting writing is going on (see his co-star Tina Fey's amazing 30 Rock for starters and try and forget her decision to appear in this rubbish or the American Office which is equally awesome and rewatchable).
Do you think this is the reason I don't get more work? Because of my inability to brown nose. Ah well. I am right. Don't waste your money on this film.
But at least it passed 90 minutes of my precious life and got me closer to having my gravestone walked over by vomiting joggers.
And Sheffield confirmed itself as one of my favourite towns to play. Apparently I had 350 in last year (which is more than I remembered having) but tonight the room was nearly full and there were well over 400 in, which is all the more surprising because this isn't a town I have played dozens of times. It was a good night and there was a ludicrous amount of subs back stage and a lovely fresh fruit platter.
It's good to be alive, Edward. Hope you enjoyed it when you got your shot. And on the bright side at least you died before you got a chance to see "The Invention of Lying". So it's swings and roundabouts.
