I had had a restless night and not slept anywhere near enough, having consumed a bit too much lager after a more satisfying show last night. The world seemed to be blurred and going in slow motion as I rushed to appear in an afternoon quiz show, on a tent in a building site. I admit I am a bit of a mess at the moment. I need a hair-cut, my beard is getting a bit too long and all my trousers are raggedy from where I have stepped on the turn ups and they have worn away. In fact the trousers I was wearing today now have such big holes at the bottom that they tend to latch on to my shoes like stirrups.
I had to rush to get to this gig and couldn't get a cab and it was a bit wet and so dampness was creeping into my trousers.
The quiz, hosted by Mark Olver, about celebrity was fittingly ramshackle and fun. In a round where we had to make up a false rumour about a celebrity I made such a terrible accusation about Jeremy Kyle that the host visibly blanched. It was something about him being involved in a notable crime of the day. I wonder if you can guess what I said. I had preempted it by saying I had thought of something so bad that I couldn't possibly say it, but the crowd had egged me on and were delighted and disgusted in equal measure when I told them what was on my mind. I just hope no-one was videoing the show on their camera-phone because if they take that bit out of context I will never work again. Though in context it was fine!
As I was out and about and couldn't face walking home, I decided to go and see some shows. Firstly I went to see
Pappy's Fun Club, an infectiously silly sketch show performed by some annoyingly young, uncynical and unjaded boys (OK, they might technically be men, but up against how old I am feeling and beginning to look thanks to the rigours of Edinburgh, they are mere foetuses).
The show is a delight and I can't recommend it enough to you. Please go and see them. It reminds me very much of the old days of Edinburgh where we'd come up and do ramshackle, stupid stuff (though this is slickly put together ramshackle and one senses they have had to work very hard to make it appear so effortless and ridiculous). It feels like a group of friends messing around on stage, but the audience feels included in all this, so it's not self-indulgent. And you are swept along in the life-affirming joy of daftness. In a comedy world that seems to delight in nastiness and victimising the innocent, this is a wonderful relief. They reminded me a bit of the Monkees, in a really good way, though maybe reminded me even more of the Seven Raymonds (the first sketch show I came to Edinburgh with) and they are funny enough just to make you laugh by doing almost nothing. As in an astonishing section where they play Bob Dylan's backing band and mime along to a track for what seems like four or five minutes. But it remains amusing just because of the commitment they show to the idea. Plus they all have really funny, smiley faces. In fact more than the Monkees, they remind me of some monkeys. They were all dead ringers for the PG Tips chimps and their acting talents were broadly speaking similar. Cage these boys up and put them in a zoo for the entertainment of children. But before that, go and see this show, please. It also has the best and sweetest piece of audience participation that I have ever seen. Do I smell a best newcomer award? Who cares? They're brilliant.
Then I went to the Underbelly to see "Hammell on Trial", as was keen to see the show of the guy
who had liked my stuff so much. Ed Hammell on the surface could not really be more different than "Pappy's Fun Club", and certainly he was somewhat older than the chimps I had just seen, I believe he said he was 10 in 1964 when he saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. He's is philosophical, satirical, filthy-minded American, who is almost the most extraordinary guitar-player. Some pact with the devil has been made at some point, I am fairly certain, and there was a whiff of sulphur about him. If Satan was going to come to earth, he would surely inhabit the body of one so cool. Yet though there were hilarious songs about his crack-smoking past and his love of "pussy", there were also reflective ones about getting older, having kids and about how his father would be judged in Heaven for killing his Alzheimer's suffering wife and then himself. I wished I hadn't been quite so tired, as there was a richness and wisdom to it all. He still had edge, that so many older artists lose (making me think that he might have been how Paul Simon might have turned out, if he'd done a lot more drugs and not gone soft - because there was a warmth and wit to what he said, but a hardness and honesty too). But again I would advise you to go and see for yourself. Go to Pappy's, then him, then me!
I hung around afterwards to say hello, though Hammell is quite an intimidating figure and I was self-conscious and apparently I clammed up a bit, as he commented on the fact that I wasn't lying on stage when I said I was socially awkward. I don't think he suffers from any such awkwardness and he was again very complimentary about my show.
I went to get something to eat before my show, feeling even more exhausted and hungover. I guess I was shuffling around a bit. A young homeless man approached me, "Hey, you're homeless, right?" he said to me.
"Sorry," I replied.
"Are you homeless?" he slurred.
"No, no. I'm not," I said surprised, fully expecting this to be some kind of pitch to get money and waiting for the turnaround.
"Oh right. You just look like you are," he said, straight-faced. "Anyway, you should give it a go. It's good!"
He then went on his way, leaving me a little stunned and confused. Did I look that bad? I know I am scruffy, but surely it's expensive scruffy.
As I walked back to the Underbelly, someone tried to get passed me, "Excuse me," he said, then spotting it was me said, "Oh hi! It's you!" It was Paul Provenza, the American comedian, "I was a bit scared. I thought you were a vagrant!"
So I obviously am looking pretty damn rough at the moment. To be mistaken for a tramp once might be seen as unfortunate, to be mistaken for one twice in the space of a minute, once by a tramp and once by someone who knows you, is not a good sign. I think I need to sharpen myself up.
After a good show, I decided to have an early night.
