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I caught my reflection in that silver round bit under the taps that makes the plug go up and down and thanks to my moustache, thought I was looking into the face of Lord Lucan. Was it possible that I was him? It would have been very clever for him to hide in the body of a 7 year old child in Loughborough. No one would look for him there.
As chilling as it was to think I might be a cold blooded murderer, it was almost as upsetting to realise that I can easily pass for an 87 year old. Do the facial recognition on me, guys. I have to know.
I was doing another round of ball-based stand up tonight at the Phoenix in Cavendish Sq. A small but enthusiastic audience had shown up to this show that was only £5. I don’t think the Taskmaster effect has happened for me, but I’ve been away from stand up for 5 years and people move on. I like the idea of returning to stand up and am umming and ahhing about turning my cancer story into a tour show, but would anyone come? It would take a lot of nights in rooms above and below pubs to create a proper stand up show. Do I want to spend that many nights away from my family? Maybe I can do it slowly, over a period of months. As I was mainly doing the second half of the story tonight it may have been a little confusing. It still feels more like a book reading than a show (because that’s what it is) and I became characteristically embarrassed when I tried to do some ad-libbed chat with my Right Bollock puppet. Ventriloquism is something I can only enjoy doing alone in my attic, without the confused faces of actual people looking up at me.
I think it all went well enough and it will work for the podcast that it’s being recorded for. Even these three shows I’ve done have given me a real indication of which bits would work in a stand up show and which bits need a different approach. I think it needs to have something more than just the straight story if it’s going to be a stand up show and feel there might be something in a show about balls AND cutting out the negative and cancerous people and things from your life. Right Bollock feels like a metaphor for Brexit, for people who want to undermine you for their own ends and for the negativity of revenge. It’s much easier to try and pay people back for perceived slights than it is to pay them back for doing something positive for you. I have found those bent on vengeance rarely remember that.
Maybe I’ll put together a show without any real plans to turn it into a massive tour or maybe I’ll try and work up stuff for a different show. I don’t want to gig every night, but maybe I should gig once a week. And as fun as the online shows are, I think it has to be in front of real people if I am going to truly work out which bits work and which don’t. If an audience is interested in coming to see me any more.
The itch is coming back. Build it and they will come.
The good news is that after tonight, aside from a zoom interview or two and a charity gig on Monday, I have no work to do for the rest of the year. So I can idly think about what I might do next, but I can basically take a month off.
It’s been a while since I’ve had nothing to do and no real plans (beyond the next run of RHLSTP). No sitcom to write (I have decided to call it a day with Relativity as it feel like it came to a natural end) and no book to work on (I’ve put in some proposals, but no one has bitten yet). This crazy week, admittedly complicated more by my son being unwell, has made me see that at 55 I can’t have too many weeks where I am dashing from one project to the next, though somehow I didn’t feel that tired today and the drive to London and back didn’t feel like a mild risk.
