I had hoped to keep up my health kick and get to the swimming pool tis morning - I even had my trunks on already under my clothes - but just as I was about to head out of the door the phone rung and I was reminded that I was doing 90 minutes of interviews with local press and radio today. I am never convinced that these make any difference whatsoever to ticket sales and I was slightly annoyed to have my plans disrupted (admittedly by my own forgetfulness), but ploughed ahead and chatted with a variety people whose attitudes filled the full range from the enthusiastic to the ambivalent. No one was hostile at least, though one person sounded like they had only just woken up and were't really aware of what was going on and almost certainly had no idea who I was.
All part of the fun.
By the time it was over I was too tired to get to the pool and in any case Pete would soon be here to pick me up, so I just had my lunch and changed out of my swimming trunks and packed up my props.
Having a tour manager is certainly easing the load and I am already appreciating the difference. Today I was pretty weary and not having to drive (especially on the way home) was (possibly literally) a lifesaver. And I can relax in my dressing room (quite a nice one with wifi in tonight's case) and maybe get on with some work (I had an important meeting at the BBC to prepare for - not that I really did anything for it) and concentrate on getting in the mood for the show.
Cheltenham Town Hall (and the ridiculous Pillar Room with its awful sight lines for the audience) has been a regular fixture on my tours in recent years. It felt like only yesterday that I had last parked up behind the venue
but look, it's very nearly a year and it's two years (not one like I thought) since
I almost broke my arm moving a speaker.
The yearly return is paying off slowly and steadily, so although only 150 people came to see
my Hercules Terrace gig at the Everyman, there were around 300 excited Cheltenham (and possibly Gloucester) idiots peeking out from behind the pillars. Thank God the tour sales are more consistent than the London ones and I am hopeful that it's going to be a rather pleasant, if exhausting three months for me.
In the show these days I go on at some length about the paedophilia of the Holy Ghost who impregnated Mary when she was 12 years old. Later on I riff a little bit more on this subject. A young Christian man who came up to me after the show (who like most of the Christians who actually bother to come to the show, rather than judging it based on what they imagine will be in it, actually enjoyed my musings and found it funny, without having his faith shaken) told me that I had inadvertently committed
the Unforgivable Sin. I had no idea such a thing existed, and I thought I knew most of the crazy stuff about this religion (but am finding out new things on a daily basis), but apparently insulting the Holy Ghost is the one thing that God will not let you off for if you repent at a later date. As Matthew, the fucking idiot, says "And everyone that says a word against the Son of Man, that will be forgiven; But he that blasphemes against The Holy Spirit will not be forgiven."
I don't know why out of the three aspects of God, the Holy Ghost is the only one who can't take a joke. I'd say he had a thin skin, but being a ghost he presumably has no skin at all. But it seems strange that I can say what I like about Jesus and get a reprieve, but not about the shadowy figure of the Holy Ghost. I don't think there's even a prayer that can release me from my fate. It also means that I am now literally beyond redemption and so might as well go out there and commit some proper massive crimes and sins, cos I am going to Hell whatever happens now. I don't know if there are degrees of punishment in Hell or if you get let off some of the burning sulphur for good behaviour, but I think once you're on fire for eternity, then there's probably only very limited ways that the devil will make it more comfortable for you.
Personally I would make impregnating a 12 year old girl the unforgivable sin, or having sex with choirboys, or bombing your own people because they dare to protest against you. But no, being cheeky about a Holy figure with poorly defined and confusing boundaries is the worst thing you can do. I have done it. I didn't even know what I was letting myself in for. Ah well.
Apart from finding out about my certain damnation it was a nice enough gig and reliable Pete (might that be his adjective - let us not decide too soon) had me home by 12.15. I was tired and hungry and had some cereal and put a tangle twister lolly in my pocket to enjoy afterwards as a special little treat. I was so tired that I forgot about it, though luckily my girlfriend found it before it melted when she hugged me and found something squishy in my pocket. I tried to pretend that I was deliberately leaving it in there because I was looking forward to enjoying a nice cold ice-creamy drink later on. But she just laughed at my foolishness. Imagine how tired and covered in melted ice cream I would be if I had been doing my own driving and lifting.
