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My first gig in five weeks tonight. It’s always weird getting back on the horse after a prolonged absence, but in this case my brain wasn’t really clicking into the fact that I was going to be performing on stage, even until about ten seconds before I stepped out of the wings. Usually a gig like this can be a bit rocky, but the audience was well lubricated, possibly in both senses tonight. I tried some of the stuff from the new show, which I worried I’d forgotten, but it largely came out OK. The gig was called Sex Appeal and was raising funds for Brook which provides free sexual advice to the under 25s. I’ve done it a couple of times in the past (the gig I mean. I’ve done sex a dozen times) and it is unusual amongst charity gigs in that as a thank you for appearing the acts are given a bag of sex toys from the sponsors Lovehoney. For all my bluster and jokes about the subject I find sex embarrassing and strange and believe it is something that should be carried out in the dark, as quickly as possible and enjoyed retrospectively via pie charts and spreadsheets and by scoring out of 100. I am not a prude and am willing to try all the three different sexual positions that have so far been discovered (there may be more, but sex scientists say that it is unlikely), though I prefer the one where I can lie down and let the other person do the work. I certainly do not approve of introducing other items (a sex robot is obviously an exception, as whilst it doesn’t count as cheating and is just a machine, it is not a toy and I would give it the respect that it was programmed to deserve) or artificial moisture into the scenario, as that would be considered cheating at sex. Just as no professional athlete would take performance enhancing drugs, I want to know that any slight dampness that is present has been created solely by my sexual magnetism/me fiddling around with stuff for a bit until it is ready. Also there is no point in dressing up in costumes because a) that is dishonest - I am not a sexy fireman and it is disrespectful to all real sexy fireman to pretend that I am and b ) the lights are off anyway so what’s the point. If my wife or robot partner or Gemma Chan pretending to be a robot can’t get off on just looking at my actual body and 30 seconds of expertly administered intercourse from up to three distinct angles (10 seconds of each, not including shifting, decramping and flipping time), then the problem is theirs not mine. I am excellent at doing sex and don’t need any assistance thank you.
But I have been gifted three bags of sex toys over the last five years and it seems rude to throw them away or regift them at Christmas, so my bottom bedside drawer has a suspicious amount of sexual paraphernalia in it, that would make any curious visitor, policeman or potential purchaser of my home conclude that I was some kind of sex fiend who needed a whole lot of help to satisfy my wife or robot partner or Gemma Chan pretending to be a robot or my robot made out of toasters with Gemma Chan’s picture stuck on the head (which they would only find if they found the key to “the trunk”).
This year I can add to the collection some Kama Sutra playing cards (good luck in managing to make those three positions fill up 52 cards - there aren’t even enough for the four suits, unless one suit is wanking in a high backed armchair whilst a stranger dances), some After Dinner Mint Willies, a lickable massage candle (that just sounds dangerous), some passion fruit lube (my own body-produced lube tastes of passion fruit anyways), a male stripped kit (that really should be no clothes at all which they charge £20 for, but is just a bow ties and some cuffs and a male vibrator (which I think you’re the postman for and it’s the letterbox - it’s quite hefty, so I hope so). Some of these may end up as unusual prizes for the lucky winner of this month’s monthly subscriber draw, though maybe not the vibrator. Not because I am adding it to my toaster robot, but because that seems a bit of a full on thing to send to a stranger. And also it’s quite heavy - think of the postage. It will go safely in my sex toy drawer where no harm can come to it, until the police come over and arrest me for a crime I didn’t commit and use the actually innocent drawer as proof of my depravity. This will form the basis of Serial series 3 (I finally got round to listening to series 1 this week).
Anyway, nice to see some other comics and get back on stage and help a charity (though it’s hardly charitable, comics love doing charity gigs, usually to large audiences who are inclined to be friendly, only giving up a bit of time to look like you’re caring - it’s the most selfish of all charity gestures). And more gigs should give sex toys to the acts as a thank you. Not that I want sex toys. It's just my sex toy drawer isn't full yet.
