It's hard to believe that Andy Collings and me were on our
30th podcast. Thirty hours of rubbish. It is no cause for celebration.
How many more hours will we complete? We don't seem to be running dry just yet.
My favourite story of today was the one about the
Shepton Mallet amulet turning out to be a fake. I was able to revive (and if I'm honest create) ancient local rivalries with my home town of Cheddar and mock the stupid Malletians for their hubris. The one thing that made Shepton Mallet interesting turns out to be naught but a fabrication. Cheddar has real cheese, real caves and a real gorge and what does Shepton Mallet have? A forgery and a theatre named after the forgery. Ha ha. The idiots. I don't think we'll be hearing from the shame-faced
sheep-enclosing Malletians any time soon. They will be keeping their heads down. Probably trying to make more fake amulets to try and create some interest in their rubbish town. But what will they rename their theatre? The Forgers? The Fake Amulet? The Shepton Mallet is Shit and has Nothing Going For It Theatre? Ha ha ha. I hate you Shepton Mallet.
And exciting news for London based podcast fans who are against perspiration, as next week's podcast will be a live one in King's Cross with an audience on 25th September as part of
a charity event for No Sweat. Get your tickets
here. Book now!
Tonight I headed down to Whitstable for the oddly named
Whitstable Winkle Comedy Festival. Despite the name it was an impressive event for such a small seaside town, with four or five gigs taking place each night this weekend. And though I was geared up for a tough Friday night gig, the crowd who showed up were erudite and engaged and I had a lot of fun. I also got a chance to see the brilliant
John Gordillo, who I highly recommend. He is a class act.
I had some fun taking the piss out of the Whitstable Times who (I am told) gave me a stinker review a few years ago when I did one of my early stand up gigs here. There was a different journalist on the front row who had introduced himself beforehand and I ended the set by sarcastically revealing how worried I was about what he might say, as the Whitstable Times has the ability to make or break an act. But the journalist took it all in the good humour that it was clearly intended and I chastised myself for being so cheeky and reckless! It was easy to take the piss out of the occasion, and I'd also had some fun mocking the standard of the Festival logo - why would a winkle be laughing in Whitstable, doesn't he know what the local inhabitants have in store for him? - but the truth is that this was a very impressive event and the organisers should be applauded for getting so many great performers into town for the weekend. It shows that it can be done if people can be bothered to make the effort and it seems that the Whitstable people enjoyed themselves, as well as having a good sense of humour about themselves.
All they have is winkles, but they make the most of them and unlike Shepton Mallet, they don't have to start making things up to be interesting to the outside world.
