I woke up with Emma Kennedy snoring next to me, thinking "Oh my God, what have I done? No. I must now kill myself!" So I smashed my head into the TV, electrocuting myself to death. And it was quite a relief after what I had done.
Luckily the shock woke me up again, this time properly and I was alone. Oh the relief.
We were staying at the Paramount Oxford Hotel, which is clearly favoured by the business community and whilst it is clean and not as seedy and depressing as some of the places I have stayed in during this tour, it is perhaps a little too antiseptic and weird. The staff perhaps try that little bit too hard and yet the atmosphere is somehow too strained and strange. Yesterday Emma ordered a coke and a sandwich in the practically empty coffee bar area. The coke too ten minutes to arrive and the sandwich had still not arrived 45 minutes after it had been ordered, at which point we had to leave. As we had returned last night we had joked that the waiter might at that moment come out of the kitchen saying, "Here's your sandwich, we just got it ready" but the sandwich never arrived.
This morning during breakfast I had eaten a bit of bacon, but my plate was still over half full with untouched food. I put my knife and fork down for a second and a waitress passing by said, "Have you finished, sir?"
"Er...no" I said, looking at my barely started breakfast. If only their sandwich service had been as good as their tidying away service.
Businessmen and women were already milling around in the lobby and some seminar was happening somewhere as a woman with a fixed smile was greeting everyone. She looked into my eyes to see if I was one of the people she should be greeting, but she should probably have guessed that I wasn't from my T-shirt and scruffy hair and the fact that I have clearly never done any kind of proper job in my life.
Later, as I was returning to the lobby I passed a little room where a few businessmen were standing helping themselves to coffee from a table, presumably before heading into one of the board rooms for a meeting. I think the door said something about them working for Renault or Renault Vans maybe.
I considered walking into the little room, saying hello and helping myself to a coffee to see what they would say. I wish I had the balls to act on my impulses. Imagine what a great Warming Up it would have made if I had done it. Suddenly they would have been faced by a smiling man in jeans and a leather jacket with long unkempt hair. They might say, "Hello, and you are?"
"I'm Richard Herring."
"You're not on the list. Which division of Renault Vans do you work in?"
"Oh I don't work for Renault. I just saw you chaps hanging out drinking coffee and thought I would join you. Mmmm, delicious."
I wondered how long I could stay there if I refused to leave and what they would do to get rid of me. Perhaps I would become their friend and I would get a proper job, so that I would never have to travel to hotels alone again. I would always have lots of slightly dull businessmen friends to keep me company. I'd probably get a free Renault van as well. That would be nice.
After almost giving me only half a breakfast the hotel almost succeeded in charging me for two breakfasts, but luckily I noticed the mistake before I left. I guess someone had seen me and Emma heading off to bed at the same time, made an assumption and then thought we had been in the same room. But we HADN'T. Definitely.
As I walked through the car park I saw a car with two posters in the back window with a photo of the kidnapped journalist and the word "Release Alan Johnstone!"
What are the chances that his captors will be walking through a carpark in Oxford?
And let's say they were and were going to the Paramount Hotel for some kidnappers seminar, did the person who owned that car really think that two posters in the window might make them reconsider their fiendish actions? "Oh look that poster says we should release Alan and I feel a bit stupid now, so shall we let him go?"
Obviously it's good for people to show their support for a cause and we all want Alan Johnstone to be released and Madeleine to be found unharmed, but I am somewhat perturbed by this new trend of such public displays of concern. Does any of it do any good? Or is it all a bit mawkish and pointless.
On my return home I discovered that my friend Andrew Collings
was voicing similar concerns. I was going to write my entry entirely about this subject, but he's done a good job there I think.
Oh and good news about the Lyric Hammersmith Benefit on June 10th, which I am compering and which Stewart Lee, Al Murray, Russell Howard, Jan Ravens and Sophie Ellis Bextor are all appearing at. Although most of the tickets are £25 (and selling well already), I have managed to persuade the Lyric to sell the Upper Circle tickets for just £15, so genuine, but poor comedy fans get a chance to see what promises to be a top night. But numbers are very limited and they are already selling fast so if you want to take advantage of this offer then call the Ticket Office: 08700 500 511 or buy on line on
the Lyric website!
Don't delay. Apologies if you have already bought the more expensive tickets, but at least you will be nice and close to the action, unlike the poor idiots up in the roof!
