It's almost five years since I last played
Shoreham-By-Sea, but reading back on that entry I realise I had forgotten nearly everything about it, apart from the fact that Preston from Big Brother was in the audience. Preston didn't make it this year, just like Marlon Dingle my coterie of celebrity supporters have deserted me, though Katy Brand from off of the audience in series 2 of Fist of Fun (it was quite a surprise to see here sitting there when we watched through for the commentaries) came to Andover. Look impressed, because it is impressive.
Reading back over my 2007 antics I am surprised the venue wanted me back, but the staff made me very welcome indeed - like last time the venue was manned and womanned by more mature people, but they had made me a lovely tea and had seen my subsequent shows and the lady in charge told me how much she liked "Christ on a Bike". So just like last time I learned not to make any assumptions. I am not getting any younger myself, let's face it. And the show was sold out too, which again might be surprising in this smallish place, which sounds like it is made up, but a well run venue will usually attract an audience and this turned out to be a fun gig. A man in the audience suggested that I began halving the number of Ferrero Rochers I bought each year and I was able to lay into him in a good natured way for his failure to understand what was happening as well as to mock him for thinking that he could come up with an answer in an instant for a puzzle that I'd been thinking about for four years.
Lots of driving today from Cardiff to Shoreham and then back home again, but I wasn't too tired. Nothing too interesting happened, but I recalled that two days ago I had witnessed an awful pheasant based calamity. I had been driving along the motorway when a dozy bird started ambling across the hard shoulder towards the road. This time he was not involved in any kind of fight and so shouldn't have been distracted, but he seemed to have no awareness of where he was heading. He walked in front of my car, but I had time to slow down a little and so didn't hit him and he carried on walking, getting into the centre lane, another car manoeuvring and allowing him to survive. He was halfway to the relative safety of the central reservation and I actually started to believe that he might make it. But as I looked in my wing mirror I saw a sudden explosion of feathers, many more than you would imagine would come from one bird. The car that had hit this poor creature moved out of the way and I could see the bird lying in the road - unbelievably still looking feathery but sadly not killed outright. It was flailing around, but unable to move and even survived another light impact. I hoped that a kind or careless driver would run over it quickly now, but it was still alive the last I saw. Even though this was only a bird it was still rather affecting to witness this slow demise, especially after he had got so far and I had begun to believe he could survive this foolhardy, but bold expedition. You had wings, you prick. Why didn't you fly over the road? Why didn't you fly?
Back in Harpenden I filled up the car with petrol to have one less job for tomorrow. It was late and the man at the desk was not paying attention so I had to go in to ask him to turn on the pump. A policeman and woman were drinking coffee in the shop, the male officed eyed me suspiciously. Did he know that I had earlier stolen a banana sweet from the pick n mix at the service station? Or had he seen the photo of my odometer taken at 40mph and was wondering who had taken the snap? Was I about to be taken down after so many crimes had gone undetected. After I had filled up I came back in and he said to me "Do I recognise you off of TV?" and I told him I was a comedian (some people would argue that I was now lying to a police officer) and hoped it was that rather than Crimewatch - which he laughed at good naturedly but which I guess is the kind of gag a policeman gets all the time. Our flat, it turns out is on our patch and he told me to get in touch with him if I saw any anti-social behaviour, though I did point out I was as likely to committing that rather than being a victim. But the nice thing about a small town is that you can get to know your local police officer and he seemed like a decent type who was unlikely to collude with newspapers to give them background info. Though I did tell him where we lived, so he could. He might earn upwards of £2.50 for that info.
Back home to my wife, who I had missed even more than usual weirdly enough, now that we are married. We've nearly got through the first week of matrimony - it's gone by in a whirl. Just another 2,599 of those and we'll be at our golden wedding. Being married is pimpsy. Nothing can possibly go wrong.
