I have made a rookie touring error (and I have a feeling it's a mistake I might have made last year too) in that in my haste to pack I forgot to bring any socks with me (I think it might have been pants last year, but that might have just been a dream). I had to decide if I was going to make one pair of socks last two weeks or if I was going to buy some more. The decision was pretty much made for me because I only discovered that I had no socks after returning to my hotel after a bracing half an hour run. If I hadn't had sweaty socks obviously I would have stuck with the one pair for the fortnight, but now I was going to be forced to buy some more. Damn.
(Added note for those on Twitter who don't ever get jokes - that was a joke - of course I was going to buy some more anyway).
The run had been rather lovely. Last night we had arrived in Shrewsbury after dark and only seen the theatre, which is very modern and the streets leading up to the Chinese takeaway, but the run took me through the cobbled streets of the old town and down to the river. It was an uphill journey back to my hotel which made for a good workout and I could kid myself that I might manage to stay active for the whole of this tour. But maybe I am not kidding myself.
Look at me, still kidding myself.
It was a short trip to Birmingham for tonight's gig at the Glee. I haven't yet managed to work in the car (though I am writing this blog on the road to Cardiff), but I am managing to kid myself that I will get my new script written on the highways of the UK. And I think I might, so maybe I am not kidding myself.
Look at me still kidding myself.
Because there are two of us and because the London run did not go as well as hoped we are being forced to stay in the country's more budget hotels. The Shrewsbury one turned out to be quite nice (and had a surprise breakfast thrown in for the rather cheap room rate), but the chain hotel in Birmingham didn't look good at all. It was on the corner of a busy road, right next door to a strip club on one side and a pub with bulbous nosed, purple faced smokers standing outside even though it was only just lunch-time. The other people staying there that I saw in the lobby were a little wild eyed, with thin faces and with the prejudice of a man used to staying in £80 hotel rooms rather than £55 ones I worried that things might get a little rough here! I had once stayed in what amounted to a hostel in Lincoln, where the door had clearly recently been kicked in and I lay there fearing for my life all night as I heard retching men with hacking coughts, banging around in the corridors sniffing the air for the whiff of terror from any prejudiced middle-class twat who happened to be amongst them. (If you wish to see how my memory has somewhat embellished the night then you can read what really happened
here. Back in 2005 I was happy to stay in £30-£40 hotel rooms. See how my vanity has changed me).
Tonight I was more concerned that I would be kept awake by the antics of drunks or be recognised (somehow) by one of the purple-faced men and have to deal with a barrage of insults. I was disappointed with myself for thinking these things and being a little sniffy about staying in such a hotel, but maybe it was partly because it reminded me of those slightly sad and lonely earlier tours where I stayed in places like this quite often. I had hoped the days of bogeys on my shower curtain were behind me.
But for now I needed more socks and I popped out to the Bullring shopping area in search of a bargain. In Debenhams they were selling 14 pairs of socks for £16 and they looked reasonable quality. And as a bonus there was an extra 20% off today so I got 28 socks for £12.80 (less than 50p a foot - I should carpet my house with them at those prices). I was left to rue the fact that had I remembered to bring my own socks I could have used that money to upgrade to a £67.50 hotel room. I could only dream of what hue of purple the faces of my fellow guests would be in such a luxurious place. Maybe next year.
And the scrimping on the budget seemed even more crazy when I was on stage that night with 450 excited Brummies enjoying my act. I sat backstage and thought about what The show is changing every night and got into some very odd and libellous territory regarding a fellow comedian (though it was Jesus who made the observations in the conversation we were having, so I can't be blamed). In the bit about whether an ox would prefer to be bummed or fellated an unplanned local joke sprung to mind and I said, "Just keep me away from the Bullring". But I am also massively enjoying messing around with the mad email from the Christian who threatened me with death and riffing about Tancredo Neves and trunks being intact despite the fact there is no way that they can be intact. It's turning into such a good routine that I almost regret doing it in this show, because it would be the bedrock of a whole new hour long show, but it really helps get the second half off to a flying start and it's great to be working up something new, doing it differently every night and finding out what is funny about it. The danger on tour is that things become too scripted, but certainly at the moment that isn't happening. There's a good 20 minutes of stuff in the show that wasn't in it at the start of the London run.
My fears about the hotel proved to be unfounded. In fact if anything it was incredibly peaceful and quiet there. I was too wired to get to sleep before 2, but no one came smashing down my door and the corridor remained silent. The drunks and the drug addicts were sleeping soundly tonight. And the strippers kept their lap dancing music at too low a volume for me to hear, so I couldn't even begin to imagine what awful and amazing things were going on just metres from my room. Damn them! The quiet strippers.
I had judged them and now in return I should be judged. Still, hope I can stay at the Malmaison on the next tour. If only I was enough of a cunt to insist on staying in a posh hotel while making Pete stay in the stripper/drunk/drug addict ones. But I am not yet a big enough cunt to do that. But give me another five years and I will be there.
Tiny Andrew Collings has done a nice blog about
the end of our 6Music tenure. Thanks to you all for the kind comments both there and on the Guardian article. It is very flattering that any of you like enough to be disappointed by Adam and Joe's return. You are wrong to be disappointed (conflicted is good) because they are best, but very cool to be thought of so highly by an insane minority. I don't know if 6Music will give us our own slot, or how long Adam and Joe will end up staying, but I am sure we will be back at some point, if only to fill in for them when they are busy. It's been such a lot of fun, so thanks to all those of you who joined in and sent in such funny stories and comments. I feel so moved that needless to say I lost my deposit.
