I’m sitting in the most uncomfortable hotel room I’ve ever been in. Considering how much it costs and its 4 star rating, there is no reason why our room should stink of smoke, have a bed with a mattress that seems to be made entirely of wood and have the constant drone of super bikes outside. To be fair the super bikes aren’t the hotel’s fault, although they did build the hotel by Brands Hatch so it kind of is. The lobby is constantly filled with people in Suzuki and Yamaha outfits strutting around in full bike gear without ever seeming to actually go away and get on a bike. I think that none of them are capable of riding a bike, but are hoping that if they wander round long enough someone will ask them if they are racing. They all sit in the bar, the bar with the super bikes awkwardly balanced in the middle of it, waiting and hoping that will happen. And if it ever does they will get 30 seconds of happiness before they have to admit they aren’t allowed on the bikes and had caught the bus. Super bikes aren’t even that super. They just look like normal bikes and don’t even have a cape on or anything. Rubbish.
We are in the hotel for our good friend’s wedding. Its going to be pretty awesome and I’m really pleased for them both. They are our first friends from uni to get married which is all a little bit freaky. I’ve had two other friends get married but one was from school and the other didn’t marry someone else from uni, so this one is the first official proper one. Sort of. Its really nice but also a little bit weird, almost as though after today they will become old and grown up properly. even though they won’t and I’ll still shoot Rob on Xbox live as often as possible. There is a small group of about 6 of us who are dealing with this by spending today getting plastered. That’s drunk, not covered in plaster. We actually arrived yesterday afternoon and started drinking. I had originally planned to try and get a gig last night, but instead an audition popped up yesterday morning so I decided that that would be enough work for the day. I don’t like to overachieve on a bank holiday. It just seems like I’m disgracing the idea of Easter. To be fair I am probably disgracing the idea of Easter by not being at all religious and thinking that its highly unlikely that Jesus came back to life after properly dying. Only John Locke in Lost can do that.
I drove to my audition, thinking that as it was a bank holiday parking near the Television Centre would be easy. Amazingly not. Hammersmith and City council have decided that they too will disgrace the idea of Easter by saying that if Jesus wasn’t a fictional character and did come back alive over Easter what he really would have wanted was for people to pay £1.80 an hour to park down a side street. There was a sign saying ‘charges on all bank holidays except Easter Sunday and Christmas’. I don’t know why they’ve bothered to exclude those two days considering how little care they have for any of the others. All of nothing I say. The audition was good fun. I always get excited going to Television Centre. Even on a Bank Holiday when the only people there are a security guard who needed to go to the loo every two minutes and a receptionist who hated everyone and everything. I asked her if the screen test I was going for was what was keeping her there, and she responded with ‘no, there’s bloody loads of stuff, its rubbish.’ People at the Beeb shouldn’t use the word ‘bloody’ before 9pm. I might complain. That’s where our tax money is going to. Maybe if I write 10,000 letters to The Mail she’ll get charged £150,000 for her misery.
My audition was for a possible kids show that may or may not happen. It should happen because its a great idea and I got to spend 45 minutes making jokes about beedogs and pretending to be a dad on a skateboard and throwing myself on the floor. Those are the sort of jobs I was made for. I like throwing myself on the floor. Not from great heights, just reasonable ones. And beedogs are brilliant. If you don’t believe me look here:
See? They are amazing. I wrote a lot of bee and dog based jokes that I was fairly pleased with, including my groan inducing new word ‘Bee-larious’. I rule geek school.
Then straight from the audition I picked up our two good friends Helen and Terry, both of whom are seasoned drinkers and like me and Layla have been doing a weight watchers type diet. We have all vowed to not care this weekend and yesterday already consumed a fair bit of booze and food. While the rest of us ate proper stodgy dins, Helen backed out and ate a salad. This is not the rules. We have all made a pact to stuff out faces and if she tries to back out today I will make it my mission to throw an entire bag of Kripsy Kreme donuts at her until she breaks. Today will get messy though. I have already offered Terry money if he gets so drunk he upsets someone. Its bound to happen at some point and I am keen to provoke it for my own amusement. There are always those few people at weddings that are prone to abuse. Its either the couple that have the big argument in front of everyone, the old people that dance, or the single person that gets really drunk and cries a lot. There are no kids allowed at this wedding so there won’t be any child mayhem, which is a shame purely because I have lots of beedogs jokes they might have liked. I will have to get drunk and shout them at super bikers.
Off to get suited up in my suit that did fit perfectly but since then I’ve had a pizza and beer. There may be some discomfort.