I had surprisingly little difficulty getting up for the 6Music show. Maybe because it's such fun that it isn't really like doing a job. Or more likely I was simply too tired to register that I was tired. Even though Andrew acts a bit grown up when we're there it's terrific to be on a nearly proper radio station and to be paid to do a cleaner version of what we've been giving away for free for 2 years. What was this? The fourth one? It doesn't seem that many. I think we're relaxing down into it all now. I headed down a couple of slippery slopes and tried to push things a little bit more than previously, and I think we got away with it. I discovered that pillock comes from the Swedish for penis, but our newly restored regular producer didn't seem too keen for me to share this info. I was cheeky in a few ways that only Collings and Herrin fans will recognise. The three hours flew by. But maybe I was still asleep and dreamed the whole thing.
Both of us knew all the words to the Monty Python song "Eric the half a Bee" despite not having heard it for over two decades. Unlike John Hannah in Sliding Doors our ability to recite Python sketches did not lead us to being irresistibly attractive to the two young women in the studio. I have a feeling it made us less attractive. Which in itself was quite an achievement. Especially for Collings.
It seems likely as when we were walking back to the tube afterwards we saw Pete Doherty lolling his way down Upper Regent St, looking just like himself. He was dressed in rock star garb and with a man who judging by his face had taken even more drugs than Pete. Perhaps the only reason that Pete is still alive is that he hangs around with this man and he eats most of the heroins before Pete can get to them.
He was certainly not trying to go incognito and naturally we weren't the only people to spot him. A man asked if he could get a photo taken with Mr Doherty. He looked like he was thinking about it, but then I think after all those heroins that his life is just on a delay. He said yes and we walked by as the man put his arm round the tall junkie and aimed his phone camera at their smiling faces. Or maybe only the man was smiling.
Collins and Herring managed to walk around in public without being harassed, even though one of us is a big enough prick to have a toothbrush moustache, which is frankly just screaming out for attention.
Once home I had to pack for the next six nights on the road and try to calculate how many boxes of programmes I would need to load into my car.
Then I was thrust in to heavy post-football traffic to try to get to Windsor in time for another gig. I was a little bit tired by now and didn't do the best performance, making a few mistakes along the way, but no one seemed to notice.
Only afterwards did I remember that the Duke of Windsor had lots of Nazi connections and was annoyed with myself for not having incorporated that. But I just hadn't had time to think about it.
My dressing room was next to the toilet and in the interval I heard some inebriated women (who hadn't been at the gig) asking if I was good looking and (if I heard them right) a bit hairy. Apparently I am all right looking and not that hairy. But the feedback on the show was good. Maybe I should hide in a room next to the ladies at every gig. I currently only do that at 98% of gigs.
