If I had been any doubt that I was no longer in the Maldives (and I was in no doubt as I am not insane) then the weather today should have confirmed it. Snow! How could God snap us back to reality so sharply and unfairly? Where's my decompression chamber?
I felt a lot better today though, which was lucky as I was performing at the Bloomsbury tonight for the "Sex Appeal" charity gig in aid of
Brook. I did the same gig last year when you might remember
the acts were each given a big box of terrifying sex toys as a gift for our services. I was interested (and afraid) to see what we might be given this time around. I obviously wasn't so terrified by last year's box that I didn't want to do the gig again. If anything I was intrigued. What massive object would I be given to jam into my rectum this year? And would I overcome my aversion to having massive objects inserted into my rectum and actually put it up there this time?
It was my first gig in almost a month (and my last gig had been at this same venue) and I was a bit rusty and jet lagged and totally forgot what I was meant to be saying at one point, but I felt relaxed (so relaxed that I didn't really feel like I was actually in my body) and my cock based set fit the occasion perfectly. I also got to perform in
an old Armstrong and Miller sketch (taking the place of Armstrong), which was a lot of fun, although we only got to rehearse it once and perhaps predictably the blackout at the end didn't happen, leaving us holding our astonished faces and then having to say "blackout", but that's all part of the charm of live performance. We got some laughs though and it was nicely nostalgic to be doing sketch comedy again (my only other recent foray into the form was the slightly less successful "Girl that Smelled of Spam" sketch at the Hammersmith Apollo last year.
We did get another box of "toys", including some "Fifty Shades of Grey" handcuffs - just handcuffs with that written on them - I read today they are putting out a whole range of FSOG products including improbably a salad bowl. I am pleased about that because I can't imagine they have made much money from the book sales. There was also what I think is called a "flesh light" which is a vagina in what looks a bit like one of those plastic bottles that runners use. And opening it up and touching it it reminded me of those tubs of green slime that we used to have as kids (never thought of putting my cock in that though - I am sure someone did). If you like the idea of having sex with a vagina without a person attached then you no longer have to kill someone and butcher them - you can stick your knob in a cup instead. There was also a strange device which looked a bit like a circular fan which confused a few of us, but it turns out to be an oral sex device, essentially lots of tiny tongues on a wheel which spins round much faster than any human tongue could manage (and also without getting the tongue cramp that would surely quickly follow). What a delight it was to see Jenny Eclair bamboozled by the item, turning it on and then unable to turn it off. She didn't have it anywhere near any naughty bits and it still flustered her.
Disappointingly, I mean luckily, there were no anal intruders this time round. If only all charity gigs could give out such presents. But if they did then comedians might be too exhausted to do any more gigs.
My wife also performed at this (and last year's) gig so we have a wide selection of his and her sex toys now. We may be able to set up a Shepherd's Bush sex museum.
As we walked back home afterwards there was fairly thick snow on all the cars in my street. On the back windscreen of my car somebody had written the figures "99p" in deep letters. I didn't know what this was meant to mean. Were they affixing a price tag to my car. If so that was a bit unfair, as my wife said my car is worth at least double that. It's true that my car is pretty old and knackered (cars are said to start to resemble their owners) but one of the benefits of the snow was that you could no longer really see it any more. Imagine how little the snow graffiti artists would have thought it was worth if they could actually have seen it. I don't know if 99p might mean something else to young people (is it short for 99 problems? I've got 99 problems by my 12 year old VW Golf automatic is not one?) or is it the tag of some gang leader (who maybe thinks Poundland is for the la-dee-dah bigshots and he buys all his stuff at the 99p shop?). I am pretty sure that whoever spent the (not inconsiderable) time to carve these deep figures wanted to hurt me. And they did. Even though I am not sure what they meant.
For those (many) of you who missed my 2007 comedy drama "You Can Choose Your Friends" you can now see it (for free)
on YouTube. Great cast. What a shame we didn't get to do any more. It is nearly
six years ago that we filmed this. Unbelievable. Lovely, but slightly sad, to see the late, great Anton Rodgers in what would be his last acting job.
