Oh come on driving Gods - now you're taking the piss. I was enjoying the drive to York, even when it started to lightly snow. It was that very fine kind of snow, with drops like white grains of sand. The wind was blowing it across the tarmac in little clouds. It moved like smoke or a swarm of miniscule insects. But then the snow got heavier and started to settle. The sky turned dark. Is someone trying to tell me something? Is the nightmare of life nearly over?
I'd never get that lucky. There's another 40 fucking years of this nonsense to go. I'll just buckle under. Lucky stiffs.
After last night's nervousness I thought the conditions might get to me, but I took it all in my stride, though was worrying that I might not make it to the venue - or that I might make it to the venue and not be able to get back to the hotel. Or to Salford tomorrow.
But I haven't missed a gig yet and along with dozens of other brave and unselfish comedians I risked injury to bring the gift of laughter. We really are the biggest unsung heroes in the country. But we all do it only because we want to make your humdrum lives happier. Don't thank us with words. Your laughter is payment enough. Also
buy my DVDS.
There was an odd sign all the way up the M1 on those electronic displays that warn you about upcoming problems. It said something like, "Bin Your Litter. Other people do." I saw the same message at least four times. It seemed a slightly weird concern for a motorway. Maybe a few people chuck things out of their windows, but not usually at 70 miles an hour. Are these signs just giving general life advice. Can we expect to see, "Don't put your face in the toaster" or " Remember to pay your gas bill" on future journeys?
I don't mind if that's the case. That makes driving fun and informative. I might forget to go to the toilet sometimes, but if the sign tells me "Remember to go to the toilet" then I will remember to go to the toilet later in the day.
The bit I found really confusing was the line "Other People Do". Would that convince anyone. You know, I was there, chucking my litter everywhere I went and assumed that was the cool thing to do, but now I understand that other people don't behave like that I feel foolish and chastened and I will never do it again. Is this slightly headmasterly approach really going to convince anyone. I think the kind of people who care what other people do are probably already taking their litter home with them. Hardened litterbugs do it because they don't care about anyone but themselves. Other people have let them down and their only way to get back at the unfair world is to throw their crisp packets on the floor.
But also the sign seems specifically to be aimed at the person reading it. It assumes that the reader is a litterbug, but what if, like me, you're one of the other people who dispose of litter carefully? I don't need to be told that other people do. I am one of the other people. I don't like the sign assuming that I am not one of the other people. If it just said "Bin Your Litter" then the good people like me could think, "That's OK, sign, I already do" and bad littering idiots will say, "Oh sign, thanks the advice, I probably will do that from now on." There's something very snide and judgemental about "other people do" and I don't think it's a sign's place to start making such comments. Especially when I am one of these other people. I actually think the litterbugs are the other people. I am a normal person.
All very odd.
I made it to York city centre and so did most of my audience (about 50 people who'd bought tickets didn't show up, but there was still around 300 in there). It had been a pretty exhausting drive and I thought I might be sleeping in the theatre, but I just had to take one thing at a time. The first half was a bit more sluggish than usual and I realised later I forgot one of the short routine. Unfortunately it was one that pays off at the end, leaving me bamboozled as to why the line that usually gets a big laugh got no reaction at all. I talked to my girlfriend on the phone about the odd response, saying that I had definitely remembered the initial routine, but later I suddenly realised I hadn't. I'd done it in Swindon, but that wasn't much use to the audience here. Days are bleeding into each other already.
My car was covered in snow when I went to get it from the car park, but I was able to slowly negotiate the streets and at least made it to the hotel (which typically was outside of town). Tomorrow is another day. I will do all in my power to make it to Salford. Comedians are the 19th emergency service and I will bring my zany gags to Manchester or die trying. My life is nothing compared to making a grumpy Salford man slightly laugh.
