Star Treatment

No gigs today and for a very good reason too. Well its not a very good reason, its because no one would give me a gig. But I’ve turned that frown upside down (as I typed that I felt sick at myself. Sorry) because I’m going to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs at Shepherds Bush Empire. I have never seen the YYY’s live before and I can’t wait. I can only assume that they are so good you feel the need to reply three times when people ask you if they were good. I wonder if when they started out they were called the ‘ Alright Alright Alright’s’ or the ‘Ok but one really good song ok but one really good song ok but one really good song’s’. I wish I’d copied and pasted that last bit, but instead I did it old school. Tedious, but a hark back to times when copy and pasting did not exist. Those were the days typists really worked hard, and men were men and women were women. Pretty much the same as nowadays really, except for ladyboys who are a bit of both.

I’m scared as to how I’ll fit in at a YYY’s gig. I’m a big fan of them, but I don’t look like a big fan of them. I noticed this yesterday when hosting the Crawl. Despite adourning one of my favourite Mr Scruff t-shirts and my oh so trendy black cardie, I felt a tad out of place among the skinny jeaned, checked shirt wearing faux indie kids. I can’t do skinny jeans. I tried them on once and it looked as though my clothes were trying to suffocate my legs. I nearly fell over in the changing room due to movement restriction. I did feel yesterday though that I was dressing how I wanted to and by doing so showed my ability to be independent and not dictated by a fashion scheme. Lots of the kids in the audience just thought I was uncool. The whole event was a lot more fun than I thought it would be. I had assumed that it would be like a festival gig with lots of people walking in and out and really not giving a crap about watching or listening to any gags. It started off very very quiet and ended up packed, but all the while, even though there were a few non-carers, there were a large amount of people that wanted to be there. Lots of fun audience members including a man in a hat who was on acid, a roofer and two kitchen fitters who we turned into a band called ‘The Meerkats’, two women who work in Gatwick, a man called John who is going to photocopy the Mighty Boosh, and three men who said they would shout historical heckles at me but instead bought me a beer. I prefer beers to historical heckles. Fact. There was lots of running on and running off stage for me, and my brain felt a little drained having to think of ways to keep things going inbetween acts, but this was helped by all the acts being ace and often doing over-time. Special mention goes to Marcus Birdman, who went on during a busy influx of crowd and dealt with the thankless task like a soldier who needed no thanks to complete his mission. Also to Tiff Stevenson who jumped in last minute and did an off the cuff 25-30 minute set because of a massively overlooked 30 minute gap between acts, that I was shitting myself about.

There is something that will always be exciting about being give a wristband and artists pass to any festival type event. It feels a little like you are a celebrity of sorts. I thought there might be perks to the Crawl Artists Sticker, Artists Wristband and Free Food Wristband I was given. I was very wrong. Firstly the rider didn’t contain any booze. I didn’t want much booze as I had to drive to my later gig but a beer or two would have been nice. I bet Madness, the YYY’s and Echo and the Bunnymen had booze. I bet maybe they had our booze. I am going to make Karen O buy me a beer later. You’ll see. Secondly, the free food was appalling. I’d assume that as it catered for all the bands, the canteen at Lock 17 was going to be pretty plush. As I arrived I saw two measly plated of salad, some not very nice pesto pasta and chips that were doing the backcrawl in vast levels of grease. I asked if there was a veggie option to the burgers they were handing out and I was told there were a few falafals but they’d all gone, so why not just have a burger. I explained that being veggie means I can’t just ‘have a burger’ because its made from animals and they looked at me like I had just told them I’d punched their mum in the face and put her upside down in a dustbin. After giving me that expression I was keen to take such action. Its not really star treatment is it? I assume that’s why so many rock stars are skinny, because they barely eat anything due to the poor quality of grub presented to them.

I then had to catch a bus home so I could drive to Bedford. All the way back on the 253 a rudeboy was giving me really odd looks. It took me a while to figure it out but by holding the bus pole only part of my ‘Gaymers’ sponsored wristband was showing. I gave him a camp smile just before I jumped off and he looked terrified. The later gig at the Bedford Corn Exchange was brilliant too, which is odd, as having done that gig a few times before, its normally fairly tough. I had assumed that after the brilliant buzz of the Crawl, Bedford would be like heading to a library. It seemed like it would be with very few pre-sold tickets, but then last minute the place filled up. The whole show was also helped by a man called Keith who had a voice as deep as Barry White and laughed, as Alan Francis put it, like one of those joke laughing bags. It was wonderfully infectious and he set the precedent for the room. It was all going well until towards the end of Alan’s set he was laughing so hard he started choking. Luckily he didn’t die as that might have made things sour again.

There was a measly selection of nachos and cakes backstage, and we weren’t allowed free drinks from the bar. Comedy is so unrock and roll. Either things need to change so we comedians get more freebies, or rock stars need to start getting the same treatment as us. I want to see Kasabian having to buy their own pints and being greeted only with some salad that looks like its been pulled out of a bin.

Going to write for a bit, and then must make myself as punky as possible. Think I was smear some marmite on my face and leave all my clothes by the toilet. Then I should probably pierce something. Maybe one of the cats. All the kids will think I’m one of them. Or that I’m mental. Either way it means I won’t get barged like usual so it’s a plan.

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