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I spent the day trying to pack a bit and get the house in order for the move. When the move actually happens is dependent on when the work we're having on the new place is done. It should have been mid-August, but is now looking like mid-September.
Luckily (only in one sense) we haven't yet got a buyer for our current house, so can still live here. Paying two mortgages and two lots of bills is not so lucky, but it will only destroy us if this situation continues for more than six months. So as well as packing I am trying to make the house presentable for photos for the new estate agent.
And this means trying to make my attic space office look more like a bedroom and less like a play room/office for a weird man who talks to puppets and plays himself at snooker. So today I dismantled the streaming computer and took the snooker board apart. I may have played my last match on this iconic board. I have another less warped board in the garage (though it's been in there a few years, so it's probably fucked up enough by now). So I am considering getting the original board sawn up into pieces and selling it to fans, like it's the pitch of the original Wembley. Who wouldn't want to own a pocket that has seen so much action or the D bit of the board or just some sawdust from the snooker butchering?
The answer is nearly everyone in the world, but there's probably about 50 people who will empty their bank accounts for this opportunity. Who said that self-playing snooker wouldn't pay for itself? My wife for one. And then pretty much everyone in the world. Apart from about 50 people. 8,161,972,522 can't be wrong, you might say. I say 50 people can't be wrong.
Were the majority right when they crucified Jesus? OK, bad example.
Were the majority right when we voted for Brexit? Again, definitely.
Were the majority right when they bought tickets to see Stewart Lee, but not Richard Herring? Hmmm.
But there must be some case where a tiny minority were geniuses and everyone else was a fucking idiot.
I hope that self-playing snooker has been a 15 year grift, designed to make tens of pounds from the people foolish enough to keep listening in the hope that there would finally be a joke of some kind. But I am not clever enough to plan ahead.
Anyway it felt weird to be dismantling my little podcast studio. I didn't feel confident enough to remove the cameras to the side and above the table (Chris Evans - not that one- and a proper man will come over at some point to transfer everything to the new house) and I realised that they will more or less point at where we're planning on putting a bed. So if anyone looking round our house notices these devices (and they're fairly small and hard to spot, but that just makes it more suspicious) then they are going to jump to some conclusions. I mean how likely is it that there were cameras there so a man could broadcast himself playing snooker badly against himself and how likely is that my wife and I were doing an Only Fans.
That might be a better way to make money if I'm honest and the people who'd pay for a bit of broken snooker board would almost certainly pay more for that. And then think how much money we could make if I didn't appear in any of the films.
Another RHLSTP with someone at the Fringe (two shows in this case - do check them out), Olaf Falafel (if that is his real name).
Listen here. 
