Days without alcohol 10.
Crisis averted. I sold about five extra DVDs yesterday, so that should pretty much sort me out.
Five? Thanks guys. It's hardly Band Aid is it? When I needed a neighbour were you there, were you there? No you weren't!
Luckily for you I've managed to sort my own life out. But imagine if I hadn't. How guilty would you have felt? Come on, pull your finger out and next time I say I am in trouble, sell all your possessions and send me the cash. I don't write this for fun, you know.
I found out that I am getting paid for my radio series this week and I had a bit more money in the Building Society than I thought, so I can pay my mortgage for a couple more months at least. But when I come back to you in March, please, for the love of God, step up to the plate people. I am a comedian. I can't be expected to look after myself.
So I had to went to save my arse and get my money out of the Building Society. As I was closing the account down I needed to give photo ID to prove I was who I said I was, and also needed to answer some security questions.
"How long have you had this account?" asked the lady behind the screen.
"Oh, I don't know," I said, "Can't remember. Maybe 8 years."
She pulled a face which told me that I was way off. "Ten?" I reguessed, but she wasn't satisfied.
"Do you know which branch you opened the account at?"
"Ummmm... no idea. Clapham Junction maybe." Again, I had clearly got it wrong.
"I need to get you to answer some security questions to prove you are who you are?"
"I understand."
"I'm struggling to think of anything else. Do you know what your last transaction was?"
"Oh God.... I don't use this account very much. I pay in cheques every now and again, but I don't know what the last one was. Maybe about £200."
The face told me I was very wrong.
"If I was pretending to be me I would be doing much better than this," I told her.
The woman at the next counter was asking her customer the same question and said jokingly "It doesn't have to be exact. I'll give you a month either way."
My cashier said "Good luck with that. My one was twenty years out."
"Do you mean this actual account, cos I used to have a different one with a little blue book instead of card. Do you mean that one?"
"When did you open that?"
"Um... I think my dad did it when I was a kid. 25 years ago? Is it Weston-Super-Mare?"
I had got nothing right clearly. "What else can I ask you?"
"How about my last address?" I said, almost struggling to remember that too. But that wasn't satisfactory. "Can you remember the phone number at that house?"
"Oh God... No. I only use my mobile really."
I was really beginning to think that I wouldn't be able to get the money. I was doing a terrible job of proving I was me and I couldn't think of anything I could do.
Then the cashier at the next counter said to her colleague, "You're not telling me you don't know who that is?"
"Hey?" said my lady.
"Don't you recognise him?"
"No... should I? Who is he?"
I don't think I am being modest to admit that I hadn't even thought that someone should be familiar with me from my TV work. Because I know most people aren't. So it didn't even cross my mind to say "Don't you know who I am? It's me, off of BBC4's Late Edition's Christmas episode." So I was surprised and slightly relieved that the woman at the next desk could identify me. She held up a piece of paper to her colleague saying "TV Comedian", and apparently this was good enough to make up for my astonishing lack of knowledge about myself.
Though tellingly the other cashier did not write my name down and obviously didn't know it, as if just the fact that I had been on TV (or looked like someone who had) meant that I could not possibly be fraudulent. Because no-one on TV has ever committed a crime. Well not one that doesn't involve cocaines or child pornography.
So it all worked out OK and the illusion of financial security was restored and I can go back to being profligate. I haven't learned a thing.
