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301 days without a drink. I guess I’ve got to go to the end of the year. If the Beatles were right then there’s just 8 weeks to go.
The Beatles were not right . There are 9 and a bit weeks to go.
That’s loads. I give up.
There was no recovery time today and once we’d got the kids up and then off with my wife for a day out, I had to drive to London to do some press for the tour. Which was a bit of a mistake as I only had today to do my research. But then it was also an oversight to be doing two podcast recordings in two days, so might as well make it as tough as possible.
But somehow as well as talking to Radio stations in Humberside and Manchester and getting to meet and chat with the charming and funny Jake Yapp for the Radio 4 Extra Comedy Club, I managed to get enough done to be armed with questions for my guests, if not really very much in the way of stuff to talk to the audience beforehand.
I decided to see if I could challenge the Spectator stereotype of the podcast fans, but when I asked who identified as a chunky, lonely male working in IT the cheer was massive. I think some people were just trying to look cool though.
And despite these being two very complex chats about big subjects with two very brainy guests I managed to fight off exhaustion and remain engaged and fairly bright, though slight podcast overdose led to me being giddy and oversharing. But who cares about that? That’s what you come for right?
Sara told me of another sexual rumour that she’d heard about me, which rivals the high-backed armchair. And like the high-backed armchair it has no truth to it at all, but that won’t stop you referring to it for the rest of my wretched days. How do these things start up? I am a painfully dull lover I am afraid, so delighted to have all these stories to make me seem more exciting. But as you’ll see with my Going for Gold revelations, if I have something that I have done that is embarrassing I would most certainly admit it and use it for my comedy. Honesty is all I have.
Road closures made my journey home slightly longer than it needed to be and whilst I doubt I will be in shape to get much writing work done tomorrow, this tricky run of gigs is over. Next weekend I have the luxury of a full day off between Manchester and London.
And those six interviews in six days were all crackers. My only sadness is that you’re going to have to wait a few months to hear them.
