8251/21170
Into sweltering London town this evening to record two live podcasts at the Bill Murray pun in Angel. I was going to be chatting to one of the co-founders of Angel Comedy Barry Ferns and brilliantly funny stand up Chloe Petts. I was worried that the room might be a sweltering sauna, remembering that in Ball Back previews three or more guys passed out in the small room. It turns out though that they've for very efficient air conditioning and so those medical emergencies were more down to the material than the warmth of the room.
Apparently I had been the first comic to headline the Bill Murray and also headlined the club's other venue early on, though I have little memory of either of these gigs. Andy McH who was in the audience tonight and the audience at that first gig reminded me that I'd gone to the wrong venue for that Bill Murray gig, which vaguely rang a bell, but otherwise it's a blank. I thought my memory was my strong point, but it seems I have forgotten more than I recall. Maybe I was a ghost in Fort Bragg. Perhaps it was me that farted in the theatre.
Barry also recalled meeting me for the first time in Edinburgh in 1999 where I was in the flat he was sharing, possibly due to me begin romantically involved with one of people he was sharing with, eating a big plate of spaghetti bolognaise whilst everyone sat around me watching me and asking me questions. Again, no memory of this, though I was very drunk for most of the 1999 Fringe. Usually I'd remember some spaghetti.
Walking through Islington on the way to the gig I had been reminded of all sorts of past events (that I do recall), like playing the Meccano club in 1990 and occasionally crashing the Pizza Express dinner that the acts at the new material night (that I wasn't a part of, but Stew was) would have every fortnight. It would cost you thousands of pounds to watch the comics round that table now - Jo Brand, Alan Davies, Bill Bailey and many more. It was only a tenner to see me tonight (and the Pizza Express was closed for refurbishment).
Patrick Marber had a flat near to Angel tube at the time, which we sometimes congregated in to write and rehearse the dum show. It seemed pretty privileged and unfair at the time - we were sharing a studenty house in Acton for £60 each a week and Marber had a flat that he or his family owned. It's not a level playing field.
I don't remember where Steve Coogan's flat was, but he was already wealthy (from his own hard work to be fair to him) and I remember that he had sizeable unpaid in cheques lying around the place, from his various ads and voice-overs. I was living off jacket potatoes and £2 bottles of wine from Rimpy's Fags, Foods, Non-Foods, Wines and Spirits....
Things were going our way. More for some of us than others. But none of us, even the least successful one, could complain.
Hey, we were all privileged. Imagine paying £60 a week rent in London (well Acton) and it being a reasonably OK house. I'd have liked to have had one of those cheques though. It would have kept me in baked potatoes for years.
The cheap wine was flowing, amazing and blowing my way.
And even more Steve Coogan's way.
Fair.
Both podcasts were fun and Chloe and I found a lot of common ground in farts, breasts and football. And vaginas with teeth in them. Both pods out before Edinburgh. I recommend both their shows.
