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It’s been nearly two weeks since I have had an alcoholic drink and I’ve been ill for pretty much all that time. I am no scientists/Noel Edmonds but I would say this is 120% proof that alcohol is good for you and can tackle cancer. Ye, tackle cancer.
I mean it might tackle it by making it a lot worse. But sometimes kill is the best cure.
I had a stomach upset again and nausea and hadn’t slept well at all, and had to get up at 6 to look after my stupid daughter (why didn’t I have a vasectomy when I had the chance?) but I couldn’t spend all day in bed (as I probably needed to) as I had to go to Leeds for my Happy Now? gig and then Peterborough on Friday. I don’t have a tour manager for this part of the tour so I had to factor in that long drive too. I couldn’t really face eating to add to the difficulties. But the show must go on and I felt just about fit enough to point a car north and hope that it suddenly turned into KIT from Knight Rider and could manage the rest itself. And then do my show for me.
It was a challenging day all round, but I am not one for calling in sick unless I actually can’t move. But I was reminded why, at my age and with a baby making sleep patterns unpredictable, a tour manager is pretty much a requirement. And maybe as I get older touring isn’t going to be as easy as it once was. At the moment I rely on it for income, so it’s a concern that it might have a shelf life. If I can’t make money touring then I can’t afford to do all those podcasts for free.
Having already sold almost 500 tickets in Leeds on this tour I was impressed that I had sold another 150 tonight, though less impressed that today of all days the backstage toilet was out of order. Luckily there was no emergency situation. I had felt like sleeping backstage in the 30 minutes before the show started, but managed to stay awake. Adrenaline got me through the first half, though I did start to struggle a bit in the second. But as with my driving I was 40% on autopilot and although things felt mildly dream-like and the room was (I think) pretty hot anyway, I got to the end in one piece and hadn’t shat myself. So you know, that was a bonus.
As this was part of a festival there were comedians and friends around, so I could have spent the night partying (if only I had been well and 24 years old), but as soon as I was done I packed up and drove to my hotel, missing quite a few turns in Leeds complicated road system. But eventually I staggered into the lobby of the hotel, on my last legs, wondering if in the morning my bloated corpse would be discovered by the cleaning staff.
I was proud that I had been professional enough to get through today, do a good show and not let the audience down (as long as my infection isn’t airborne and they all contract this annoying, not debilitating enough illness). In the heady days of 2005, when I was returning to stand up, I would happily do a gig in Yorkshire and then drive home straight afterwards (partly an economic consideration as I wasn’t being paid enough to afford a hotel), but the prospect of another four hour’s drive tonight was beyond reality for 2016 me. But today was reminiscent of those days, partly because I was driving myself and partly because the venue had been a sweaty underground comedy club rather than a theatre or arts centre. Luckily I had a hotel with a comfy bed and though usually it takes me hours to get to sleep I knew there would be no problems tonight. The prospect of more driving and another gig tomorrow might have kept me awake were I not so wiped out.
But what’s remarkable is how rarely my job actually feels like work. I am a lucky man. As long as I wake up on Friday and am able to write this.
Londoners, don't forget it's your last chance to see Happy Now? on Sunday at the Leicester Square Theatre and then on Monday I am interviewing Lauren Laverne and Doc Brown for RHLSTP. Details here.
