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Confused and perturbed by the sudden arrival of Black Friday in the UK and the seeming assumption that this is a thing and has been going for years I decided to try and create a new and fully British (and thus UKIP approved) holiday for the last Friday in November called RHLSTP Friday, where all my podcasts are put out for free and then people bought all my DVDs in a social revolution against businesses trying to trick gullible consumers into parting with their money for spurious purposes. RHLSTP Friday failed to cause any punch ups in shops or indeed trend on Twitter and it was no International Women's Day, but I had fun attempting to create a meaningless holiday.
But don't worry if you didn't get to celebrate because every Friday is RHLSTP Friday. And you can also celebrate it on RHLSTP Monday, RHLSTP Tuesday, RHLSTP Wednesday, RHLSTP Thursday, RHLSTP Saturday and RHLSTP Sunday. 365 days a year. And also on RHLSTP February 29th.
It might take a little while to catch on, but if we can eradicate Black Friday then that will make it all worthwhile.
Today's PR attempt to sell tickets for my London run of LOTDS was a return to the Robert Elms show on BBC London. I quite like the fact that Elms and I meet up once a year for about 15 minutes and chat about ourselves and that's our only interaction. We get on quite well I think. Others have told me that they find Elms a little spiky, but if he is then I like that about him, but I find him charming and interesting. He told me he'd been doing his BBC London show for 20 years now, so I think he can be forgiven for not being full of enthusiasm for everyone he meets, but I'd prefer that to the pumped up and manufactured excitement of many DJs, who I know know nothing more about me than what is written on their press release. I will probably talk to Robert Elms for a total of about four hours in my life, but by spreading that chat out over decades I feel I somehow get to know him better than I would if we spent half a day in a studio together. Nearly everything we've said to each other has been recorded too. So if so inclined, when one of us dies, the other could conceivably easily listen back to the vast majority of this fractured relationship. It would be quite dull to listen to, but a little bit mind-blowing that such a thing was possible. It won't happen of course, because why would we put ourselves to that trouble. But the point is that we could if we could be arsed.
He's been in the business as a journalist and broadcaster since the 1980s and there is always something to learn about him or the job. We chatted about my show and his career and writing a column, both on air and off, had out photo taken and then I left. It's sort of like being plunged into a virtual reality world for a few seconds and then fished out again and returning to the non-Robert Elms realm.
I had to wait in in the afternoon for the pram and baby car seat we'd ordered to be delivered. I caught up on audio blogs and tried to think of a Metro column. I didn't think I was going to be able to squeeze one out this week, but then I decided to write about witnessing that sandwich theft in Pret a Manger. It was adequate. I might try and do one about voices in head and leaving public transport for fear of terrorism at some point, but my sludgy brain wasn't playing ball on that today and it's quite a sensitive topic to get right.
But I decided to knock out a quick frame of snooker. I had thought I'd left my Tascam plugged in, but the battery was dead and I had limited time, so I charged it up for as long as possible and hoped it would stay on for 25 minutes. It didn't though. It cut out halfway through the frame, so you will miss out on much of the excitement (probably all of it because you're not going to listen to any of it, are you?). Luckily/unluckily the commentators and players convened shortly afterwards to give a report on the missing action and result. And luckily/unluckily the beginning is intact so you will get to witness Me2's attempts to drum up trade for the tour by deciding to reveal his inner racism/sexism and support for UKIP. Just when I was starting to like that guy he ruins it.
And this evening we went to see Lou Sanders record the DVD of her latest show at the Soho Theatre. This woman is certainly a force of nature and treads the line of mental illness more expertly than even I manage in my snooker. It's a resolutely stupid show, full of an endearing mixture of over confidence and vulnerability. I miss having this fizzing ball of unpredictability rolling into my life once a week, but not enough to consider returning to Fubar to have that happen. It's as much fun watching the people who have no idea what is going on as it is watching Lou. I have a feeling that the best is yet to come for her. Catch her now whilst you can still be hit in the face by salt being poured over her head through a funnel and flicked at you by her hair (which no other comic has ever thought of doing- perhaps for good reason).
