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Three quarters of ten thousand blogs!
Woke up at 8am and headed to Lymington for breakfast. It was like being a single man again. In that it was pretty lonely. I looked at the market stalls and bought some deodorant and then went back to my hotel to prep for tonight’s shows.
I had forgotten how much I love Paul Foot’s stuff. He is always described as surreal, but his sets are solid with proper jokes and he has an authentically unique persona. He can do jokes that would seem awful or gauche in another’s hands, but it’s fine from him, not because he’s harmless - there’s some brooding madness behind his silliness - but because he is detached from everyone else’s reality. I cried laughing at
his brilliant selection of funny internet clips, made even more brilliant by his descriptions. Not convinced they're all genuine, but it hardly matters.
I got to Hangar Farms Arts Centre too early and got some dinner from Totton’s scary Morrisons which at least on a Saturday evening, feels like a zombie apocalypse has just gone through it. A lady served me some bhajis and stuff from the deli counter and it was a bit like she’d never spoken to a human before.
There was a brief moment of panic when the tech at the venue asked me how we were recording the shows and revealed that he wasn’t expecting to do that. Hopefully they sorted it out, but we remembered to record the first one on our phones just in case.
Paul was the perfect RHLSTP guest and I am not sure why I’ve never had him on before (though he had done an Edinburgh one), but it was bonkers and scatty but still focused and honest (apart from the lies). We will definitely get him back. And very interesting also to talk to my ex-Fringe flatmate, who I put the shits up on his first day at the festival by telling him how much money he’d lose -
I clearly thought it was funny to do so, but Fergus and he were scarred by it. He’s done so well in his career but is surprisingly insecure about his acting abilities, but very confident about being the best at doing Kwikfit training videos.
As my hotel was half an hour from the venue, in the wrong direction, I made the decision to head for home after the gig. Obviously there would be less traffic at night, but it seemed insane to add at least an hour to my journey time by going back (and then coming the other way in the morning). I was a bit worried I’d run out of energy but had loaded up with snacks at Morrisons and pushed through the tiredness to get back at about 12.45am. It was the right decision, meaning I’d be home for Father’s Day morning. But a knackering end to an exhausting weekend. You’d think chatting to comedians would be an easy gig, but 4 interviews in 2 days and 9 hours of driving will destroy a man (even if he gets a lie-in)
Four terrific interviews in the bag though. If the taping worked.
Thanks to everyone who came along.
