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I woke up at 10.45. This is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me. Like many simple pleasures in life you need to have a baby (or have been in prison for 20 years) to be able to enjoy stuff like this. But it was a major, major victory and the day wasn’t going to get any better than that.
I mean I missed breakfast at one of the few hotels on tour where it is included. But I had woken up closer to lunchtime anyway, so I didn’t need it. Adam Buxton could take my breakfast and have it for lunch with his family.
The lie-in worked because once again I was based in the same hotel for two nights. We were going to come back here after the Liverpool gig to avoid the inevitable violent/criminal activities in that city. At the gig I joked that I had been in a fight there (though nearly nine years ago now), Bill Bailey had had his tour bus stolen and Alan Carr’s manager had had his ankle broken in an altercation in Macdonalds, but I didn’t feel this was the city living up to its stereotype, just a city punishing comedians for perpetuating it. Which is correct. You live by the words, you die by the words.
I’ve played the Epstein before, but have never had people sitting in the balcony before. Tonight it was sold out, making this month surely the most consistently successful touring month I have ever had. I only failed to sell about 125 of the 3000 tickets I had on offer. Looking ahead things are not quite as victorious, but an unusual number of gigs are already sold out and a few are very close (and some are a long, long way off), but of course this has given me a little boost. And this four day run has perhaps been my most enjoyable time on the road ever (in performing terms). I got to FaceTime with my wife and daughter as I put the programmes on the seats and she seemed happier to see me than yesterday. She has my heart in a vice and she just keeps twisting. A laughing little face blowing you kisses is a tonic and a harpoon into your soul. But tomorrow I get to play with her again. So it hurts a little bit less.
Before the show, photography student Samantha Fulstow took a few portraits of me in the dressing room. Here I am, slightly battered after a few days on the road, but freshened up by my first proper night’s sleep in ages.
Chatting to people afterwards I would surmise that it’s the podcasts that have led to this upturn in numbers. There has been a new one out every week for the last 38 weeks and that has certainly helped. There are some Metro readers in there too, but less outside of London, I think. Persistence, relentlessness and hard work are unfortunately the keys to success. And not giving up. Which I came close to doing many times, most recently after Edinburgh 2014. But Lord of the Dance Settee proved to be the chrysalis from which I was reborn. The full ending of that show, which I only did twice, but which you can see on the DVD, serves as a fitting metaphor for the ups and downs and ups again of self-employment.
I got out of Liverpool unscathed and with a tour car unbroken into, which is a shame as think of all the publicity that I could have had on Chortle. The only thing that was stolen was a kiss, by a big, bald Liverpudlian man called Ian, who smelled much lovelier than you would have guessed. It is the most action I have had on tour for many years. But at my age you have to take it where you can get it. Hopefully it will be the start of something special for us both. I mean he’s no sex robot of Gemma Chan, but he’s the closest I am going to get. I hope my wife never finds out about this. He very much kissed me without my permission. But I still liked it.
