5386/18306
I didn’t really regret adding another podcast to the run, though perhaps I could have done with having a rest. Over 170 people turned up for this unlisted show, which is pretty incredible on a Friday afternoon. Ahir Shah popped in at the last minute to replace Tiffany Stevenson who realised that she wouldn’t get back from the Leeds Festival in time. I was so Frazzled that people started to lick me and expecting me to taste of synthetic bacon. But we ploughed through. Ahir was charming and John Robins was funny and just a little bit vulnerable. Both of them nominated for the big award which is announced tomorrow, so we had some fun talking about my failure to ever be nominated, after 24 Fringes and 41 shows. Always the not even the bridesmaid.
Listen to the podcast here.These podcast recordings have been incredibly good fun and I am really pleased I brought it back. Maybe I should have done a few more.
But with a later start than usual I had hardly any time in between shows. I had to sit at the bottom of the Pleasance hill to build up the energy for the last bit of the walk. I considered asking the audience to come down to me. But it was worth the effort. With 250+ in and the news that tomorrow’s final show is already sold out. I should make some money this year. Or at least not lose any. Claw back a bit of the 2014 debt.
A guy who had been at the show last night and who was clearly a fan, turned up as I signed programmes and requested that I have my photo taken with him, with me wearing a rubber chicken mask. I put it on, but worried I might have put myself in a hen-based cumpkin situation. It seemed to be gamete free, but it smelled of rubber chicken (not rubbery chicken -that’s the punchline to a joke that I would never do) and so did I for the rest of the night.
I went out for a meal with my wife and her brother and his friend. I have largely managed to avoid Edinburgh on a weekend night, but even though it wasn’t all that late yet, the boozed up revellers were out in force. A man dressed as Beetlejuice saw me and shouted “Are you still quite funny?” in a passive aggressive manner. “Yeah, I guess,” I told him. I had a recent assessment of my funniness made by 250 people on stage and though they probably didn’t all enjoy it, it had gone well and there had been laughs. So yes. Still quite funny. The sarcastic Beetlejuice man wanted to shake my hand. Was that ironic too? I don’t think so. I think he quite liked me. “You’re quite funny,” he reiterated. His female partner then added, “Funny looking,” and laughed raucously. “Yeah, nice one,” I said. Given she was with a man dressed as Beetlejuice that seemed more insulting. Or if she was taking him as normal, then yes, I was funny looking. In the kingdom of the men who all dress as Beetlejuice, the man who is not dressed as Beetlejuice is funny looking.
We had a great meal. It wasn’t quite the end of the Fringe, but with a 380 mile journey ahead of us on Sunday I don’t think we’ll be getting blasted as a Beetlejuice partner tomorrow.
