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Post Fringe, licking my wounds, I have to work out how my time is best spent, what my focus should be and how I am going to earn the money to pay for my not very successful play. So obviously I spent most of the morning playing snooker against myself. It’s definitely the thing that will rescue me.
It should be, as it’s the best thing I have ever done. Though that is helped by the low standard of the other things I have done. And I know it will take maybe 3 or 400 episodes before it really starts to get properly funny. Not that it’s meant to be funny. It’s a serious sporting podcast as we all know. But it was good to be back with the boys and recording frame 46, which as well as being a thrilling battle of snooker equals, a telling satire of the dichotomy and futility of human existence and a nervous breakdown all in one (like a kinder egg full of nails and self-loathing), David Camerons and Alex Salmon had agreed that the issue of Scotch Independence would be settled by this single frame. If Me1 won then the Union would stay in place, if Me2 and the spirit of rebellion was triumphant then Scotland would be independent. There was a lot to play for. Mainly though it was about finding out which Me is the best at snooker over a protracted number of frames in a contest that will only end with the death of one or both players. Seriously, if you don’t like this then you are an idiot. Go back to watching mainstream comedy like Mrs Brown’s Boys or Stewart Lee. Frame 46 is here (but you must listen to all the frames or it will make no sense or subscribe on iTunes.
But that wasn’t enough self-playing snooker for me. I then recorded another audio frame for the extras of the “We’re All Going To Die!” DVD. Who would win the Chris Evans (not that one) Trophy this year? And would anyone buy the DVD just to listen to this extra piece of snooker history? If you don’t listen to it then you are defeated in this battle of wills. Ultimately no one will be listening to these podcasts at all and I will have won. If a man plays snooker against himself in a basement and records himself commenting on it, but no one listens to the recording, then did the recording ever exist at all? It’s such philosophical conundrums that make this, without hyperbole the greatest work of art in human history. And with hyperbole it’s even better.
This is only the fifth frame of 2015. I promise to do better with this from now on.
I had a meeting with my manager about how Edinburgh went and what we should do next. I felt a bit shell-shocked and unsure. I have a script to write and a tour to do and some podcasts to sort out, so it’s not like I am going to be standing around playing snooker against myself. But it feels like I am at an important point in my career with some decisions to make. Do I redouble my efforts? Or half my efforts but focus them more effectively? Some decisions are being made for me by life in general and the world’s general insistence on operating under a system that involves earning money. It’s probably a positive thing, but it feels a little disconcerting and strange right now. And exciting. And depressing.
I have a jammy, jammy life and I keep bouncing back and stuff keeps falling into my lap and it’s all going to be OK. But I am at the mercy of tides that I cannot control, like a massive Cnut. A delightful mixture of insecurity and ridiculous self-confidence (nothing odd about that for a comedian). I’ve always laboured under the illusion that things will probably turn out OK and they usually do. But now, a little older and closer to redundancy, it occasionally occurs to me that they might not turn out OK.
Ah well, it’ll probably turn out OK.
We went to see “Obvious Child” tonight, a smart and witty and uncliched film about a young woman who gets pregnant on what might be a one night stand who decides to have an abortion. In the old days I think there were loads of films that didn’t run to a formula and so could surprise you, but now it’s so rare that this one felt like a work of genius. Which it might have been. But even though it might be broadly classified as a romantic comedy, it didn’t follow any of the tropes of this genre. And it was like proper real life (if you have quite funny and interesting friends) and not preachy or sensationalist about a controversial topic. The cast is great, especially Jenny Slate, who I was already a massive fan of purely because of her turn as Mona Lisa Saperstein in Parks and Recreation. You’d be hard pressed to come up with a better 33 seconds of character comedy than what the ensemble achieve on her first appearance here. Jean-Ralpheo is still one of my favourite sitcom characters of all time (though Ron Swanson is in the top two along with Hank Kingsley), but everyone does such a tremendous job in this. Every reaction and detail is perfect (Jerry being so happy about being a hard pass is so great). And the ludicrous nature of John-Ralpheo’s entrance is somehow perfectly acceptable. Don’t just watch 33 seconds of Parks and Rec, but if you can only watch 33 seconds of it, make it that 33 seconds.
Anyway, Obvious Child made me leave a cinema for the first time in a long time feeling properly entertained and thought-provoked rather than feeling slightly soiled and cheated. And it also made me leave the cinema singing “The Obvious Child” by Paul Simon, which would have been enough on its own. Definitely highly recommend both the film and the song, but if you only have time for one, then the film has the song in it, so go for that one.
And if you love great pinball machines, why not help out with this kickstarter to get the Addam's Family Pinball digitalised. It will make me very happy!
