Where the bloody hell has the sunshine gone? The sun is a bit like a wanton father or husband. Its not there for ages and you give up on it, thinking it’ll never come back. Just when you’ve forgotten it exists, it strolls right back in pretending it can just rule the roost again, no questions asked. Then you are finally suckered into thinking ‘Hey maybe it’ll stick around this time, maybe its changed’. No such bloody luck as its gone off cavorting with clouds and rain right in front of us. The sun is a selfish dick. I’m saddened by the lack of sun. I’m going to Brighton later and I thought that maybe I should head to Brighton early and enjoy the sunshine and Brighton boho-ness. Sadly this plan has been entirely ruined. I don’t enjoy a beach made of stones in the first place but wet, slippy rocks are even worse. And knowing me I’d be tempted to walk on them just because, and then I would die and get found on the coast of France all washed up. Which would be a bit rock and roll. But then I’d also have to go to Calais without the ability to buy cheap booze. It doesn’t work out for the best.
My preview yesterday didn’t work out for the best either. I had spent a lot of last week tweaking and changing bits, which ultimately meant that by the time I got it to the Hen and Chickens last night, I didn’t remember any of the structure or jokes or words or anything. I like being organised and in control of my comedy stuff, so if I don’t know whats happening I get all a bit panicky. As it was I raced through the entire show at superhuman speed. The show had a large amount of new material in it but was a full 3 minutes shorter than the last time I previewed it, which is a massively bad sign. To top it off I forgot to record the show despite having the dictaphone in my pocket which is probably for the best. Last time I recorded it I accidentally set it to record at 1.5x the speed so I sounded like an excitable chipmunk. I think if I had done the same last night the whole thing would’ve sounded like putting a record on the wrong speed. For younger readers just imagine if your i-pod went wrong.
I’ve always had a problem with speaking too fast when nervous. I remember my first ever gig outside of uni at the Laughing Horse in Greenwich. I went onstage such a bag of nerves that I was almost talking in tongues. When I came of stage Sion James said to me that the jokes were good but I needed to say them not at 110mph. He said it was almost like machine gun fire. It was lucky the gig was in Greenwich and not Hackney or people might have ducked for cover. Over the years since then I’ve managed to slow myself down somewhat. Not loads because I naturally talk fast. Why say things slow when you can say them quick and add more stuff at the end? Its worked for Busta Rhymes. Sadly Busta Rhymes doesn’t do stand-up. Although if he did no one would understand what he said, it would probably be mental and shouty and rhyming things isn’t funny. After having our attempts to buy a milkshake snubbed by Hamburger Union, I went back to my friends Sam and Ali’s house where we discussed what my show is actually all about. This was incredibly useful and I think I know what I need to do for the next one. Apart from slowing down which is obvious. I’m worried that I will over compensate for that and speak so slowly that the show lasts for two hours. At least people would get their money’s worth. And a nap too, probably.
I’ve got to go by things to make myself look like a zombie now. I’m excited about this and will be practicing with it all afternoon before the photoshoot tomorrow. The stuff I need is liquid latex which will make my skin look all cracked, and fake blood which will look, er, like blood. Must remember to remove it before I go to Brighton or I could scare a lot of people. Still I’d definitely get a seat on the train.
