Empty Spaces

There was a guy at my school called Little Marlon. He was mostly called this because his name was Marlon and there was a bigger Marlon, and also a more medium height Marlon at the school too. Little Marlon was a fairly cool bloke and had one phrase in particular that I still hold as an important way to judge a party to this day. If a party was busy you wouldn’t hear a single complaint uttered, but if it was empty he would stroll in and just say ‘there are spaces on the dancefloor’ before strolling straight off again. Simple as that. Obviously everywhere needs to fill up so he would never enter at the beginning of a night, but if by a few hours in this was still the case, Marlon would say that and everyone would know the event was a fail.

I don’t really go to parties or clubs anymore because of my sad existance, but that does not make the theory redundant. Last night at Southampton Uni, there were spaces in the seats. Saying that golden phrase, the managers told us that the gig was usually packed every other week, as though we were some sort of comedy curse. It’s not their fault to be fair, it was because there was a big football match on and football ruins everything. Living only ten minutes away from the Emirates stadium I can say for sure that it really screws a lot of stuff up. When Arsenal play it takes 40 minutes to escape my road by car and I can’t even think about getting a tube or bus because 22 men in shorts are kicking a ball around. Then when they stop kicking it around, all the punters walk down our road throwing litter and pissing. At least with the cost of the tickets going up the litter has gone from pie wrappers to cappuccino cups so I feel its dirt of a classier nature. Last night it was Liverpool vs Arsenal so even when I am away from home, Arsenal’s mission still ruins my nights. One day I will break Arsenal for all the hell they’ve indirectly given me. Maybe I’ll put a dog poo on the pitch or something like that. They’ll see.

I had driven myself and Nish Kumar up from London and we had discussed on the way, what could be the worst outcome possible for the gig. The conclusion had been that if Southampton was on fire and full of zombies we would just turn around and come back because fire zombies are pretty bad. However fire zombies would have been a tad more responsive than the crowd at the gig if only because they would be shouting ‘brains’ every 30 seconds and the noise of the flames and fire alarms would be better than the sheer silence we encountered instead. Because of the gaps in people – and by that I mean seats without people in, not people with large gaps in their bodies, that’d be odd – the gig was wonderfully devoid of atmosphere. The first few rows were empty until I coaxed people to move into them. Then when they did move they were tentative to reply to anything I said. They were interesting students though. Southampton appears to be a very intellectual university, which is odd, because that’s very opposite to the entire rest of Southampton. Its also a very green, with trees and a small river running through it so it all looks very nice, again the very opposite to the rest of Southampton. Its a wonder the rest of Southampton hasn’t found out about it and just moved in leaving the city desolate. I had been there once before, when I visited a friend there at uni. I had successfully challenged him at drinking and after a bottle of aftershock several beers and two bottles of wine I won. He then started drinking water and I headed to the double Southern Comfort and Lemonades for £1, quickly collapsing on the union floor and being carried out before midnight. I made an incredibly quick transition from winner to loser.

Several of them were studying to be doctors, with one student having the surname ‘Where’. I’d like to think that somewhere there is a Doctor Who spin off called ‘Doctor Where’ where people are just constantly curious of his whereabouts. They could be joined by Doctor’s When and Why and complete the set. Other students were studying English and philosophy, with a small group at the back studying ‘ship science’. I was fairly sure that ships were all sorted now. Being that we are working out ways to travel to the moon, I cant help but worry how quickly those students will be made redundant. One student called Max, had a mohican and studied politics. I thought that perhaps he was the sort of anarchist punk who would have some decent views on what was wrong with the world. Turns out he’s a Tory. This is terrifying, it means the Tories have finally worked out how to infiltrate the normal people using clever disguises. I wanted to out him like an alien in V. I will now start searching for other normal people that may in fact be undercover Tories.

We all just ploughed through the gig. Everyone had a good set that was only adequately received by the crowd, and it was one of those evenings where it was just a job. Right towards the end while Cole Parker was closing the show, myself and Nish were sitting at the back of the room. As we did, a very tall man just decided to walk up, avoid all the chairs in the audience and sit uncomfortably close to Nish, with his leg brushing up against Nish’s chair. I looked at him and he whispered ‘Don’t laugh at me’. He was clearly a psycho and so to respond appropriately I got up and left Nish there by himself. I thought at least one of us should survive if he goes all nuts and attacks or rapes. Or both. Cole finished his set and by the time I went to pick up my bag, Nish looked genuinely terrified and the man was still sitting there completely still. We escaped as quickly as possible looking behind us incase he was following us to the car. At least we would hear fire zombies following us from a distance. And we would be able to outrun them easily too.

Long long trip to Glastonbury today with a car full of comics. Should be fun, unless I crash and wipe out a good percentage of the comedy circuit.

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