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Onward to Edinburgh, which was at least not an eight hour journey, unless you took the train that stops at every house. Bollings and I had lunch with comedian Joz Norris, who was in town for some gigs and trumped my story of the terrible woes of having travelled up on a first class train ticket, as he'd taken the overnight bus to get here. He's young and as far as I know doesn't have any kids, so one sleepless night isn't going to kill him. He's a very funny man and we laughed our way through lunch at the City Cafe. You would really need to be there to understand this, but for some reason we came up with a podcast idea where we would chat to each other whilst taking a shower together, which I don't think has been done yet. I also think there might be a podcast in me trying to convince other comics to come on my podcast where we shower together to see what their reaction would be. You heard about it here first.
I said I'd pay for lunch on the proviso that both of the others pretended I was their dad. So they had to say "Thanks dad" as the waitress came with the bill. And if she didn't hear then they had to say to her "He's our dad." So that the waitress would think I was their dad. Joz was happy to do so, even though he'd only had a couple of drinks. I think I might have found my kink.
He's a brilliantly funny man. Do go and see him if you can.
Jenny Eclair has written a great substack about what it's like to tour and the importance of solitude
https://substack.com/home/post/p-159994926 . Though I am not quite as fastidious in my pre-show prep as her (I just hope I will remember the good new bits I put in the night before), much of this resonates. I do tend to keep myself to myself as much as possible and not seek out friends who might be in town - but maybe that's a mistake. It was great to have a sociable lunchtime before retreating to my cocoon. I cried with laughter today.
In the early days of solo touring I hated the loneliness of the long distance punner and found the post-show come down almost unbearable. Occasionally I found someone to have a drink with and even more occasionally managed a sleepover with a new friend, but mainly I was left drinking wine alone in a Travelodge bar, not wanting to go up to my room because there was someone else's bogey on the shower curtain (that only happened once, but it sums up the experience perfectly). Nowadays I feel very comfortable with my own company and my wife has said I have to stop with the sleepovers (which I pretend to reluctantly go through with, but in fact no one wants to sleepover with me anymore, but it's nice to pretend it's my decision). The idea of having to entertain anyone (in any way) post gig is now too horrible to contemplate. I usually have one drink with Bollings and then retire to bed to wait for the adrenaline to dissipate and then to try and claim more than six hours of solid sleep. I miss the family a lot, but solitude is not only desirable, but wonderful, almost as much as it is necessary pre-gig. Before the show it's like I need to turn off sociability entirely, because I am about to go through a 90 minute pantomime where I am the most sociable and socially domineering person in the world.
I don't know which me is me. Am I the dull, quiet idiot who I appear to be for 22 and a half hours a day or the exuberant joke, full of life that I am for 90 minutes? I love the way that being on stage makes me feel, but I am also glad that that me is largely in a box for the rest of the time. I guess I've spent most of my life trying to keep him in the box for more and more of my day. There was a time when he was out of the box any time I wasn't on my own. And when I hated being on my own. Or maybe it was him making me hate being on my own because he needed the audience.
I am not mental.
Walking up to the venue later I was recognised by a man who told me he loved my Metro column (and was surprised to find out I hadn't done that for a decade), He was a nice, if rather intense man who told me that God had cured his ADHD, which was nice of God (though He seems to be slacking on curing the ADHD of the millions of other people who have it). It was a fun little chat and even though the man seemed to be a fan of my work, he didn't seem interested in buying a ticket for the show.
When will God cure me of the me in the box?
Back in a theatre tonight, so it was a slightly different performance, but another one that I was very pleased with. I've really kicked off any remaining shackles and the show is both tight and loose and playful and serious. A man on the front row was really enjoying it and occasionally heckled with a line that was basically just explaining the joke I'd just done (like a real life version of Twitter) but I lightly took the piss, which he enjoyed as well and the show was clearly resonating with him so I didn't have to go all Peter Kay on his ass. Unboxed me is on top form right now. Probably because I keep him in the box so much more successfully.
Never let me eat after midnight though.
