The Headmaster's Son tour starts here! Show one of too many for me to count is now in the bag and it didn't go too badly at all - despite it feeling like a thousand years since I had last done it. Most of it, fortunately came back to me, even though I was performing in a little theatre in the middle of a pub and was competing with the shouts of some men watching football who sounded like they were standing directly backstage. But it was a lovely venue in spite of that, with friendly and efficient staff -
The Penny Theatre, Canterbury if you wanna check it out.
I took my car in for a service last week as I wanted it to be ship shape for the tour (not literally, come on, that would be crazy). Although it had been working fine before, as a result of the service the gear box has now packed in and I have to wait til at least Thursday to get it fixed, so I had to go old school and get the train. Which is fine as far as it goes - and in fact in terms of making it to Canterbury is (in most ways) much easier - except I have to get the slow late night train back (it's nearly midnight now - I've been going for 40 minutes already and there's still over an hour til I am at Victoria) and I couldn't bring my SCOPE programmes with me. But thanks to the magic of another recent present to myself - a mobile broadband dongle - I am at least able to do my blog as I travel (although reception is very much intermittent and I am far from certain this is going to load up). And it's not like I'd be getting to sleep any time soon anyway.
Aside from the fact that I am at the mercy of the timetable and will be home a full two and a half hours later than I would have been if I'd been in my car I can see the beauty of the train. It's less stressful (though a bit too packed on the way down) and I can do some writing. And given that my car costs about a thousand pounds a year just to service - and is thus costing me three or four pounds a day before I've even considered issues like tax or parking or petrol - I am beginning to wonder if I might be better off travelling to all my gigs on this environmentally friendly transport. Though all right if I am going somewhere and coming home (provided there is a late train), it becomes less appealing if I am doing 12 gigs in a row all over the country. But on a day like today the idea of ditching the motor does seem slightly appealing. Would I do any work though? Maybe more than I'd do if I was driving.
Just passing through Chatham now. Hello if you live there. I hope it's nice. The train station looked like the others.
As I set off on my journey this afternoon I walked down the Goldhawk Rd and noticed that the defunct
Mellows Massage Parlour, that I believe might have had a brief resurrection after I mentioned it, but which has been closed down for some months now (not that I ever visited - I didn't - I can wank myself off), has now been taken over by new management. In quite a change of direction it has become an office (or maybe even a church?) for something called "The Church of Christ". I think there are a few different ones and I forget the wording, but it was something involving the word "fourth" I think.
I wonder if the Church of Christ know what used to go on in the place that they are now doing their Christly work. Maybe it's apt enough, Jesus loved hanging around with whores and sinners and wasn't averse to the odd foot jacuzzi. He must be looking down and laughing now.
Do you think he prefers to see people doing the work of the Church of Christ or the kind of jobs that were going on there a matter of months ago? He might not like the Church of Christ - even though its got his name. There are so many branches of Christianity, it must be hard for him to look at them as all the same, especially if he is at all stringent about what he thought his message was. Perhaps he prefers the massage parlour girls to the new occupants.
Oh dear, a scary looking man has just sat almost opposite me and just started laughing manically at nothing at all. Now another man has arrived and the first man is saying "If you don't stop harrassing me I am going to call the police."
The second man is saying something back, but has such a bad speech defect that it's impossible to hear what he's saying.
"I don't know you, leave me alone," says the first man, who I don't think had been laughing maniacally because of the second man.
It's all calmed down now, though another woman in the carriage has had to tell the second man that she isn't getting involved. You don't get this in my car. He's laughing again. I wish the audience had laughed like this. In fact I don't. It would have been really scary. If they had just kept laughing and laughing at nothing at all.
Now I am wishing that the people doing my service had done their job correctly. Thanks to them fucking up my gear box, one of these mentally challenged gentlemen might easily fuck up my head box. If I don't make it out of this alive, please tell Patrick Marber that I love him and I am sorry that there was all that bad blood between us. Apart from that I don't think I have any messages to impart.
All right Jesus, you got me back. I promise not to ever take the piss out of you again. Just let me get out of this alive.
Comedian killed by maniacally laughing man. Good headline.
"He was laughing at nothing," said a witness. It just gets more and more apt. But I like the idea of these crazy late night train riding men being bitter enemies. It's colourful. I might move to another carriage. It's rare you get a live version of Warming Up! It's the bonus of mobile broadband.
Avenge my death.
If I don't start this up again, then either my broadband has gone down or I have.
I am still here. But for how long. Maybe I can just turn my blog into a running commentary on my life now. It's certainly handy for making sure that the dialogue of unbalanced strangers is entirely accurate. Well hopefully I'll make it home in a maximum of three pieces. I'll leave it here so there's a little jeopardy regarding my fate. Oh good he's come into this carriage now. He's still laughing. What do you think he would do if he stopped and saw me writing down everything he was doing? It wouldn't be good.
Might look into hiring a car for the weekend!
Nah fuck it, this is the best post midnight entertainment I've had since Mellows closed down. I am going to spend the rest of my life riding the last trains home and witnessing this underclass who only come out at night. When apparently, everything is funny. Which can only be good for me.
Wish me luck. Oh my God he's coming for me.... Must.... just... press... the post...message... butt.......... Given... that ... I ....am... being murdered... I shouldn't.... really.... waste... valuable time.... putting ... in... these... superfluous.... full-stops.....
Oh it turns out he'd just been at my show and even though it ended two and a half hours ago, he's still laughing. He's not mentally ill at all.
What do you mean that would make him more mentally ill?!!!
Don't worry mum, I'll be fine. Just pulling into Dartford. You don't have to be mad to live here....
Oh my goodness, a man has just got on drinking out of a now nearly empty bottle of rose wine and started talking to me about how he fell asleep and ended up at the wrong place. He's hoping to get to Croydon tonight. Good luck.
You know what, I think I'm going to put my computer away now. Just in case. So much for this being good for work. He hasn't even offered me a slug of wine.
Just so my mum doesn't worry - I got home OK.
Though the laughing man came with me and is sitting on my sofa playing with a knife.
