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My bug has moved down to my chest now, but my thermometer says I am still at the correct temperature. And that's after it enjoying two minutes up my bum. Remind me not to put it in my mouth again.
Luckily today I only had one RHLSTP to do and the guest was only Joz Norris so I didn't have to work too hard on the prep. I love Joz and view him as my comedy son and I knew it would be a fun one where there was little point in prepping. We did seem to bamboozle the Monday afternoon audience - the last couple have felt like the people there haven't really known what they're coming to see. They seem to enjoy it in the end, but Herring and Norris is not really an entry-level RHLSTP as we workshopped a podcast where we did a podcast in a tiny bath whilst playing snooker on a tiny snooker board, using our genitals as Whack-a-moles to keep the opponent's balls out of the pockets and Joz learned to his surprise that eating cat food was not a universal experience.
I was snotty (literally) and struggling a bit, but again the laughs made me forget my woes. For the first time in my memory I failed to sell any merch at all after this gig. I think people had maybe been made to feel nauseous by idea of Joz eating fodder intended for felines or worried about catching something off of me. It was a hugely immersive experience. And definitely one of my favourite RHLSTPs ever. The ones that are like a fever dream where you lose control of what you're saying and it's like speaking in tongues are the best. And we wrapped it all up with multiple call backs as a parody of the way that many Edinburgh shows feel that mentioning something from earlier is a clever way to end a show.
As you may have picked up on, I am feeling that maybe it's time to bring this podcast to an end after almost 15 glorious years. So these gigs and the London ones in the autumn may be your last chance to see the thing live. This will be enough podcasts to take us up to February 2027 at least and I might keep doing the Book Club, but there's now too much competition for listeners and advertisers and guests and it's surprisingly hard work for me. So it may be time to take another step towards oblivion and stop whilst I am still enjoying it and try something else (don't worry Newsround will never die, even if no one is watching).
By my last count, including specials, eps that never made it to air and all the Edinburgh ones, I'll have done something like 945 shows in this vague format. It's fucking insane. But you know it'd kill me not to get to 1000 (Book Clubs should sort that out though).
My cough was bad but I had a mask on (to save others now) and tried to time my rasping exhortations to applause breaks.
WThey are such a talent and due to my daughter being obsessed with them I know nearly all the words to a huge amount of their songs, so looking forward to interviewing them on Sunday. Almost as much as I am looking forward to getting the train home straight away after!
Back to my hermit cave, after a slightly sad Burrito in the shopping centre. I asked the audience to pray for my recovery today, after Joz revealed he'd had a prayer answered the one time he'd tried it. But God doesn't like me enough to help. He doesn't hate me enough to put me out of my misery. Having God ambivalent about you is maybe the worst of all worlds. He can't feel strongly about everyone. He must be like a teacher who only remembers the really good and really bad kids and when you meet him 30 years later he has to fake remembering you.
Will I be better in the morning? (spoiler: I'm obviously writing this in the morning and though I am slightly better, I am still suffering. That's the power of fucking prayer. Screw you God.
Oooh sneezing too I discover. Just off to stick a thermometer up my jacksie (will carry on doing this when I am well too).
Come and see me talk to Mark Thomas if you're around on Tuesday!
