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Monday 14th April 2025

8175/21095
I don't know if tonight's RHLSTPs will be the last ones we do at the Leicester Square Theatre - it's probably more likely than not that I will return- but have to say that tonight's shows were an excellent advert for carrying on as we are. Timkey was in astoundingly good form and it was terrific to chat with Chloe Radcliffe, whose work I've been enjoying online for a good while and who was very funny too.
As we know Timkey is an enigma trapped in a riddle - it's hard to put your finger on why he is funny, but he is consistently funny and I cried laughing a couple of times tonight. He was on to talk about his new film and book and much as it pains me to admit it (especially to his face) they are both absolutely excellent. I watched The Ballad of Wallis Island a couple of weeks ago and it's funny and moving and Timkey is terrific in it - plus they somehow got Carey Mulligan to be in it, which would be enough to recommend the film if it was shit. Sadly it isn't shit. It's very good.
I read Timkey's new book of poetry, LA Baby, yesterday and today and again I found the hairy idiot to be funny and moving. It's the story of his trip to Hollywood to be in an unnamed project and as well as being silly and full of made up rubbish, there's a truth at its core about loneliness and home-sickness and the weirdness of being catapulted into the madness of the US entertainment industry. Even though I've not had this exact experience the disconnect and imposter syndrome and fears about getting his performance right resonated to my gut. It reminded me of one of my favourite books, Hollywood by Charles Bukowski (even though it's a very different story) and Timkey acknowledged tonight that that had been a minor influence.
Somehow his mostly light-hearted poems and supposed chats with Emily Juniper his designer really capture all the emotions of the experience, but almost without addressing them. Reading stuff like this and recent Book Club books by Keiran Goddard and Anthony Shapland make me acknowledge the limitations of my own writing. Or at least how much more work I have to put into it if I want it to be any good. I am fine at this, as you know or you wouldn't have read this far, but RHLSTP consistently forces me to face up to how many talented people there are out there and how many of them surpass me in skill. I don't mind. I am surprisingly adequate and have done very well, all things considered.
Maybe something has happened inside of me that makes it easier to move me. Has the Tin Man found a heart? I am enjoying being a consumer and I think ultimately it's inspiring, rather than off-putting. Part of the success of the podcast is that (unusually for a comedian) I am a fan of other people's work, even if I occasionally play up my jealousy of other's success. Perhaps being an excellent fan of stuff is as good as being an adequate producer of stuff.
It's definitely a lot less effort.



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