"Hey you, arsehole," my brain has been saying to me, "It's September, you've been working all year. How come we're not on holiday?"
"We've got work to do," I tell it.
"No way, loser, we always have a post-Edinburgh break in September. I want some time off from having to think about stupid jokes and stuff."
"Well you can't have time off. We have to write a half hour show about the hoodie by Friday."
"Don't give me that, meat-bag. You are merely the chariot and fuel tank that carries me around. If I don't want to think of jokes about hoodies then I just won't fucking do it. You're not the boss of me."
"Yeah and what you going to do about it, you big freaky mess of strange grey lumps and synapses shooting electricity and stuff across them, if Hollywood is correct?"
"I am going to stop thinking about stuff. I want a fucking holiday."
"We're going to Prague for three nights next month."
"Too little, too late. I am outta here."
And so it was today that my brain went on holiday without me. Which can be the only possible explanation for how fucking thick I have become. I had a meeting at Light Entertainment radio about the rest of the as yet unwritten series "Richard Herring's Objective" and found myself unable to form sentences or remember fairly basic details, like the names of the people I met last night, all of whom I know quite well and most of whom are pretty famous. My memory, which is usually pretty reliable seemed to be grinding to a halt. I am hoping it's just because I am tired and have been overdoing it on the work front. But maybe I am just old. Maybe this is it from now on. If this keeps up though the Christ on a Bike tour is going to be a bit of a dull affair. "Abraham begat oh you know, what's his name, old thingy, and thingy begat that other guy, you know from off of Joseph and the Technicoloured hat, no not hat, what was it again?" It might be the best show of all time.
So what else happened today? I can't really remember to be honest. Oh... no, not coming back to me. I hope I haven't got that disease where you forget everything... you know, what's it called?.... what was I saying?
Ha ha, I am funny. Unless I do have that disease.
Hopefully I can knock up a decent script for the 2nd show of Objective in the next couple of days. But maybe my brain has had enough of all this nonsense.
I arrived at the LE department at the same time as a big team of new, young comedians who are just starting to make their mark on the circuit who were clearly meeting up to discuss some new comedy show. I remember very well the time that I was attending such meetings and when I spent most of my time working in the now demolished LE corridor. Strange to think that that was 20 years ago. And this I suppose would be similar to me walking into a meeting in 1990 to find maybe Graeme Garden working in the next room. Which with the greatest of respect to Graeme Garden would have seemed like meeting an historical character to the young me. In a great way. And now I was the historical character, although perhaps the fact that I have gigged on the circuit with most of these youngsters wouldn't have made it feel quite so much of a juxtaposition for them.
But I remembered the excitement of those early days and the way ideas were spilling out of us and the enthusiasm we had for it all, as well as all the frustrations we had to put up with. It's good to be part of that continuum and genuinely gratifying to still be here. I'd be very happy if I am still Graeme Garden in another 20 years. The way my memory is going I might think I am Graeme Garden in 20 years.
