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The Radio Times Comedy Champion title was so close that I could almost taste it. And it tasted of victory. Throughout the day the vote had gone back and forth, but I was usually ahead and before my show went up had a 54/46 lead. The poll closed at 10. Surely I was going to do it…. but then again even before I had won my semi-final I had predicted I would lose at the last minute to Manford and reality gnawed away at me. I live in a Universe that won’t ever quite let me win things like this. Anything I want, that is ultimately meaningless. I have won at life in many, many ways. But getting an arbitrary award given entirely based on how persistent and able to create bots your fanbase is. It feels like I should win. But I didn’t win. In the end the result was almost exactly Brexit. And you’ll be getting a hard Manford, because he is never anything but.
I would have loved it if I had won, just for the comedy value of it. But I got that in the semi-final and ultimately I was very touched that my ragbag unit of nerds and dweebs took on so many telly stars and got me so far. And putting Runner-up in the Radio Times Comedy Champion Poll is probably better than putting winner.
I can’t damage the brand. I lose whilst secretly winning.
In the end I just felt a bit sad for Jason Manford. He wanted it so badly. It’s just sad really. I know he will wake up feeling empty and alone.
And everything else is going well enough to not let my one shot at glory matter. James Acaster was on terrific form and the podcast show was almost sold out (only not quite due to the increased capacity that they have crafted in the venue - there were 40 more people in than what I had been told the room could hold).
It’s already up, so you can judge for yourself. I'd say he proves himself to be one of the most naturally gifted comedians in the world today. But then what do I know?
I was filled with adrenaline and then crashed down and found it very hard to bring the supermarket shop down the hill to our flat. I didn’t have much time to rest up as I had to give Phoebe her dinner, before shooting off back up the hill for my stand up show. But this was a cracker - some late sales meant we were maybe only 30 or 40 sales away from sold out and I overcame my weariness to deliver the show properly and largely in the right order. It was a good one.
I went home to watch the hard work of my loyal gang of nerds come to nothing. But even that was beautiful in its own way. If I could just sleep for 36 hours straight then I reckon my life could not improve.
