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On the one hand kudos to me for getting this self-produced chat show to the point where it is deemed worthy of a general knowledge question, but on the other the complete look of bafflement on the faces of both women does suggest there is some way to go. Even with my first name as a given. And even, as I suspect, if the theme of the round might well have been fish.
It's a blank look that I've seen on a lot of women's faces throughout my life to be fair, but it hurts to have it televised.
Not even a glimmer of recognition.
Nothing sums up my career more and my wish is that my gravestone has a video screen in it which just plays this clip on repeat. This is my obituary gif. Please RT it when I die.
I am as confused by anyone by what I do. I've worked constantly for 35 years and live in a nice house and seem to earn money, but I can walk down the street without being recognised and usually get pretty modest audiences (certainly compared to most stand ups of my era who are playing theatres). Yet even though my audiences are small, the two tours I did this year sold enough tickets to keep me in Flumps and snooker equipment for the whole year. The podcast shows with famous guests sold better, which might not be just down to me, but the stand up which is just me and a puppet of my testicle did as well if not better than my previous solo tours and gave me a decent wage...
I am not complaining at all, just confused. It's a nice place to be, but like these women on whatever quiz show this is, I don't really know who I am either. I have heard of me though so I am one up on them there.
Sometimes people who criticise me on social media (who do at least know who I am, but they don't like me that much - again I empathise) think I am riding on someone else's coat tails or struggling to remain relevant. Both of which presume some previous success or relevance that I don't remember having. If I did somehow fly on the coat tails of the people I worked with in the 90s they must be pretty long coat tails as I've been flying solo for a quarter of a century. And no one who is wearing this weird tailed coat has lifted a finger to do anything for me since 1999 (or before if I am honest), unless they are doing it secretly.
I don't think I have imposter syndrome because if you claim to have it then you understand that you may feel like an imposter, but are not one. It's just a syndrome. I am an imposter. A brilliant one too. Don't know how I've wangled it. I am actually superior as an imposter to the non-imposters because they have actual talent, so it's easy for them. The artifice to be as good an imposter as me is actually a greater skill than being good. Anyone can make a living with talent. I've done it with nothing.
I really have never considered myself to be relevant. I don't even know what that means or how it would manifest itself, but I've never felt it, nor sought to be it. I just want to be able to keep working.
The other day on Twitter I was posting about how even I think I have a punchable face. I think if I wasn't me and I saw me on TV I would find myself annoying (and usually do, but luckily I don't watch myself and am not on very often). Tell me that this is not a punchable face.
As I say, I have more sympathy with my occasional trolls than they realise. Not that I get trolled much any more. Is that what being relevant means?
A lifetime of irrelevance or a lifetime of irreverence.
A question on a quiz show that no one knows the answer to.
It could be worse. Most people aren't even a question.
Good news. I didn't break anything today. But I did fuck up a podcast, so I guess that counts.
I played the first frame of self-playing snooker in the new arena tonight and there were some teething troubles. I forgot to switch on the commentator mics which meant there's several minutes of silent play where it might be difficult to work out whose turn it is (especially as you won't know how broke). I was struggling and I could hear myself. Also the walls are very close to the board and the new board is very flat and requires subtle play to get pots. Also I was pretty tired, especially after the endless 8.06pm football scores. But the important thing is that I am broadcasting again.
The frame predicts the winner of the Presidential election. No spoilers.
There will be a Twitch of Fun at some point soon, though the problem with having my podcast studio in a different building is that I can't really do the shows if Catie is out as I need to be there for the kids (well maybe we can rig up walkie talkies - we'll see). Will self-playing snooker ever be a question on a daytime quiz show? We just don't know.
