Quite a punishing day, but lots of fun nonetheless. I was up at 7.15 after getting to sleep at 3 and after being vaguely recognised by the waiter at breakfast("I know you from somewhere." "You're not thinking of Hitler are you?") I jumped in a cab to the plush newish BBC complex at Pacific Quays. I was shown to a tiny little studio and with minutes to go before Collins and Herring were on air calls were made and nerds set up the necessary lines of communication and somehow I managed to fulfill my 6Music obligations despite me being in Glasgow and the fucking bean-faced, Bean-voiced idiot being in London. It worked pretty well and I enjoyed being comically insulting to all of Scotland as I sat here defenceless and alone and vulnerable.
We did a good job despite my lack of sleep and not being able to maintain eye contact and got some very funny stories of teenage lunacy from our dedicated listeners. I managed to say one wrong thing (as I seem to have done every week) when I dared to behave like a Christian and revolt agains Lincoln Cathedral's policy of charging people to visit this holy place of worship, saying I wanted to throw over the tables, but they were inside the bit I couldn't get into. "What next?" I wondered. "Will the church be selling pardons? Or offering sex with their nuns for ten pounds a pop?" I was on a roll and making up my "Herring Rules" mock-indignation as I went along. But apparently I upset one of our listeners who thought that that was an inappropriate suggestion. And yet I was trying to preserve the sanctity of Christianity and prevent it from becoming mercenary. But my knuckles would have been lightly rapped if my producer had had a ruler long enough to reach Glasgow.
I was pretty tired by the end, but delighted to rediscover a blueberry muffin that I had taken illegally from the breakfast buffet. That was just what I needed to get me through the last few minutes. There is nothing like a forgotten muffin. I love a muffin.
I went back to bed for some of the afternoon, but that just served to disorient me and give me a weird kind of jet lag. I was already feeling dizzy and displaced and couldn't believe I was back in Scotland, like I had been spun round and round the country and lost my bearings (which I suppose I have).
Then on to the Garage for my show, which I got through very well despite my tiredness. I slagged off Catholics a bit more than usual after last night's complaint, delivering a bit of a hatchet job and then amusingly remembering which city I was in adding sheepishly and with a juxtaposed breviry, "I hate protestants too."
But even once this show was over (and I was very well looked after by the excellent staff at the venue I have to say) I couldn't go to bed as I had a late night gig at The Stand. And even though I was tired and the audience were drunk it was probably a good idea to have taken this gig as it got me out of the cycle of heading back to the hotel to readjust post-gig and I met up with some lovely comics, some of whom I knew and some of whom I didn't (funnily enough I met Mark Maron who was the other comic mentioned in that article). I had a couple of drinks and a nice chat before being sensible and getting a cab to the hotel.
I had felt tired and faint enough on stage at one point that I feared a Tommy Cooper moment and so resolved to make more of an effort to keep fit (which I have done a lot better with over the last few days). Halfway through this long stretch away from home and a very stressful couple of days haven't helped too much, but I have really been enjoying this tour and can't complain too much. I have a wonderful life and a terrific job, even if I sometimes upset the religious (even when I am trying to be a good religious boy).
