Salford was free of snow today, but there were quite a few gaps in the sold out theatre from people who hadn't been able to make it in. On the plus side the empty seats had (for once) been paid for, but it would have been a better gig if the room had been rammed (though probably not if there were three people on each seat - there's a cut off point). It still went well, although weirdly the initial atmosphere was better with the 90 or so people in Wolverhampton last night than with the 400 in Salford. But things quickly warmed up.
Afterwards a horde of women were waiting at the stage door and I had to bow my head so that they didn't spot me. And then when that proved successful I went back into the theatre (to return dressing room keys) and came out again and they still ignored me. If you're going to be uncool enough to wait outside a venue then don't suddenly be too cool to mob the person you're waiting for. I stood opposite them waiting for The Cannibal to park the car up and they still didn't see me. The idiots. I don't know how long they stood there after I'd gone. I hope they didn't get in the way of Marty Pellow who was performing in the big venue. I'd hate to think that my sex-mad female fans (literally blinded by their lust for me) might impede the exit of such a mediocre-looking man. Some of them were even wearing Marty Pellow T-shirts as if to taunt him with their love for me.
I had had hopes of making progress on the sitcom today and in my head at least I did plan out some early scenes, but I got distracted by football, following York City's woeful performance on Twitter. After the high of last year's double Wembley win and a reasonable start to the season the team have gone into a tail spin and not won a game since January 1st and are currently in a relegation place with little sign that they'll pick things up again. Today they lost to Torquay, going 2-0 down quickly and then typically giving a slight glint of hope by getting a penalty towards the end and playing against 10 men, but failing to cash the cheque of hope. It made me sad.
But I did keep my spirits up by messing around on Twitter. I had tweeted "No snow here at the moment and the show will definitely be going ahead whatever happens!" and then my followers started suggesting things that might stop me, which I refuted. @jellychrissy started things by saying "What if a rhino escaped from zoo and gored u through belly with it's horn. &then pooped on u. Would show still go on?" I said that of course I would. It would make a good "a funny thing happened to me on the way to the theatre" anecdote.
@AdaLightMonkey asked "Even a zombie apocalypse?" But I'd go on stage even if I became a zombie myself. That's how professional I am.
@Gene_Helpman said, "What if there was a really good episode of Columbo about to start?" and I had to concede that that would be tempting.
@MerseyMal tweeted "what if ghost of Kenneth Kendall decided to haunt yr penis?" and I said that that would make a great opening (to the show, I wasn't complimenting Kenneth's opening as nice as I am sure that was).
@MikeFinleyComic's idea was "What about a shift in the space-time continuum that turned you into Stewart Lee?" but that stroke of luck would mean I could move into the big room and usurp Pellow.
@rbradley85 wondered "What if your kojak moneybox fell off?!" which gave me the image of losing just the slot of my penis (the Herring's Eye) which would surely just leave a bigger slot and more room for Kojak's coins (and lollipop).
@edmorrish tested me with "What if Al Qaida say they'll give up forever if u perform for them tonight in Helmand province?" and I had to let him know that my professionalism and adherence to the motto, "The show must go on" overrides any mission for world peace. It's more important that the people of Salford (who can be bothered to turn up) get to hear about cocks than the problems of Afghanistan are sorted out.
And so it went on. I should really have been doing some work but instead I was messing around with these kind of idiots and crying about the impending loss of League status for the team who had somehow escaped from the purgatory of non-league football.
This is what it's like on tour.
