A good sleep and I felt a whole lot better today. To remove more stress both the podcast and Talking Cock were about two thirds full today, to add a bit of stress the recording of the podcast screwed up a bit (there was a buzz throughout - I thought it was Peacock and Gamble who were providing the buzz this year), but I had a back up on my Tascam and though it took a bit of work to get it up, we managed it in the end. Plus a bootleg from podcast 2 was also made available, which if you listen to it will be a bit like you being in a Star Trek holodeck where you're playing Colin, as it's very much from his audio POV.
My later show was lots of fun, though I did have to contend with the noise of the bars in Bristo Square. Stewart had hated this about the venue when he performed here a few years ago and I can see that it would ruin it for him. It makes it hard to be quiet or to leave pauses as you're aware that the audience's focus can switch in a second if they notice the rolling waves of noise from outside. But I quite like the challenge of keeping their attention against the tide - it feels like a real victory if you and they stop noticing it. I also talk loudly enough and leave few enough pauses for this not to be a huge issue. But tonight I thought the world had gone mad as about 10 minutes in there was cheering and singing from outside. Was I doing so well tonight that even people outside of the venue were applauding me? Or was there something else going on that would make people this happy? Who knows? Let's say it's the former.
Presuming for a second that the cheers were for Jessica Ennis rather than Richy and his Penis, then this suggests that there were screens up in the bars for people to watch the Olympics. I don't know if this is the case, but if so that seems a bit counter-productive as it certainly affected my concentration and must have encouraged floating punters to stay outside and drink. But I ignored the commotion and carried on and my audience stayed with me. Later there were fireworks, making this as close to doing comedy in a war zone as I have yet been. Still not very close to being in a warzone, but the nearest.
It's odd being in a venue where the performance takes equal or even second place to the bar. And I think it befits my age to move to a little less raucous a theatre next year. But this venue suits my Cock. It feels right having my Cock in a giant upside down cow.
My favourite bit of the show was when I flirt with the woman in the front row and claim to have a 28 inch penis, she joined in with the play-acting and smiled alluringly at me and mimed fitting a huge cock into her mouth. I didn't want to break the flow but I wondered if she'd really be quite so willing to swallow a penis of that length, but I guess it would be an experience, allowing her to be the first woman to experience oral and anal sex simultaneously with the same person.
I did not fancy hanging around the venue afterwards as things were bound to get even more raucous and unpleasant out there and I was happy to head home for the fourth straight night in a row. I've really loved escaping the madness and having a couple of drinks with my wife and watching some telly - I hope to get a bit more sociable once we've eased into it all. I knew my wife was at a show, but for some reason decided to buy a bottle of wine and some chocolate and consumed nearly all of it whilst watching a really gripping episode of Colditz. I was much drunker than I would have been if I'd stayed out. And also totally on my own. But my missus showed up to finish the bottle, so it wasn't entirely solitary.
There's a part of me that still mourns for the dead younger Richard Herring who would have done all he could to resist heading to his flat for fear of missing out on something (though he usually just sat in the Pleasance Courtyard missing out on everything anyway), but most of me is thrilled and delighted to be acting my age and absenting myself from the insanity. Once you've cut that cord then there's no way back to the old life and that's where some longing sadness creeps in, but as long as I don't get into the habit of drinking alone, then the oasis of calm of our flat is a terrific place to be. Let those who were not born in 1987 when I first hung out in that square (or at least inside the Fringe Club - now the Gilded Balloon) have the tedium of attempting to have fun. I've had my turn. And am glad that I now like my own company enough not to climb up the walls in attempting to avoid it.
