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An arduous trek down to Herne Hill to have Sunday lunch in a pub with lots of other comedians who have small children. Though we were part of a local NCT and still see some of the people and the babies from that, it is nice to socialise with people who understand the stupid business we’re involved with. In an ideal world comedians would not be allowed to breed, especially with other comedians, but it’s hard to keep us apart. Eventually we’ll evolve into a different species, both much funnier and more depressed than the homo sapiens. I’d like to think we’d be called homo erectus, but some bunch of jokers beat us to that one. It’s not a coincidence that you don’t see homo erectus around any more. Ultimately the offspring of comedians are doomed to die out.
It was good to have a day out with the family (and friends), but when we were stuck in traffic on the Westway after I’d missed the suggested turning from the sat nav and the baby wasn’t going to sleep as we had planned, I think we wondered if it was worth the effort. Everything is an effort when you have a baby in tow or even if you don’t and manage to leave it with a babysitter. It’s one of the things that make makes me ever more determined to ensure that my tour shows are as entertaining as possible. Nights out are precious to a parent and you don’t want to waste that valuable sleeping time by listening to a man talk about yoghurt for 45 minutes. Non-parents may also appreciate this new commitment to being funny. Those who enjoy stuff that isn’t entertaining still have the self-playing snooker.
I didn’t really make a decision to give up drinking this year, but I haven’t had a drink since New Year’s Eve and didn’t feel like breaking that today, so my wife got to have a drink whilst I did the driving. On the way there there had been times that we had considered turning round and going home, but I am glad we pushed on through. Our baby loves to socialise and if that forces me to be a bit more sociable then that is probably a good thing.
My new routine about how nobody loves or hates Twix, making it more impressive than Marmite because everyone doesn’t mind it (I argue that I don’t mind Marmite, in order to puncture that advertising slogan, but I am lying - I love it. To the extent that when in “The English Patient” one of the characters was asked to name something that they loved, I thought to myself I’d choose Marmite and was surprised when she did too - though to be honest I was a bit crazy at that point, so I might have imagined that whole thing) has been getting me a few comments on Twitter. I am confident that I am right about the Twix. Nobody would choose that from a chocolate display in a shop, but if they got to a canteen and the only thing on offer was a Twix, you’d eat it, because you didn’t mind it. Similarly if a tin of Celebrations was down to the last few and it was only Twixes and Bounties left, you’d have a Twix because it’s all right. You don’t mind it. You hate Bounties, obviously, everyone does. How do they keep going? you might ask. Because a Twix is a safe bar to buy if you’re getting it for a friend whose tastes you don’t know. You can be sure they won’t mind it. They won’t be delighted, but nor will they be disappointed. In fact they will be relieved that you bought them something that they are ambivalent about.
Now some people who’ve seen the routine have tweeted me to let me know that they love Twix or that the Twix is their favourite bar. It’s so ridiculously transparent that I can’t believe they think they can get away with that. If they said they actually quite liked a Twix I would believe them. But no one loves it and no one could have it as their favourite. That would be insane, with so many chocolate or caramel or biscuit based bars to choose from. I know that these people are schills, paid by Ian Twix to pretend to love them, in the vain hope that that might somehow convince someone else to take leave of their senses and say they love Twixes too. Let it go, Ian. There is nothing wrong with being nobody’s favourite. Believe me, I know that better than anyone. There is a place for those who can get by by just being mildly liked by most people. The things that divide people mean that friends can not enjoy them together, but the Twix can be served up at a family gathering and you’ll know that everyone will be basically satisfied, if slightly disappointed. And as an artist you can ask for no more than that.
