Cardifficulty

This is a pre-written blog as I’ll be far too busy tomorrow to hack one out. Instead I am writing this in the leisure of my flat after a rather stupid afternoon, whilst watching the Glastonbury highlights. I saw some of Crosby, Stills and Nash last night and tonight’s glimpses of the Prodigy and Blur in particular have made me all a bit jealous of the Glasto goers. It looked like such an awesome line-up this year and there were so many bands I would have loved to have seen live. Then I remember I hate camping, mud and other people. Then I also remember I am going to see Blur in Hyde Park on Friday and I will be able to get the tube home afterwards. I think I have become old. So it actually feels quite nice watching it on the tellybox without being crushed by people that smell of non-showering and being able to go to the loo and back without missing a song or having to wee on a 4 day stinking mountain of strangers’ turds. Yes it does mean I have to put up with Jo Whiley’s stupid stupid comments and Zane Lowe’s vacant stare, but I can also have an ovaltine so I think it works out. I would also like to point out before you keep reading that I am very pleased with the title of today’s blog. You shouldn’t snigger at your own blog titles but I did, thanks to its multi-layered word play. I will now stop gloating and let you continue.

It has been a stupid day today. If I wasn’t in the company of fellow comic and friend Mr Thomas Craine, I think I would have had various patches on my head due to hair pulling frustration. We were both due to be in Cardiff to do Edinburgh previews. I picked up Tom at 4pm, and by 6.40pm we were still stick only just outside Windsor. For those of you with no concept of cars or driving or roads imagine not getting very far anytime soon. I assumed, being a Sunday, that the roads would be clear. Who drives on a Sunday I thought, when they are probably all in Church or gardening or whatever it is people do on Sundays? It turns out what people do on Sundays is close large sections of motorways off just to make everyone else spend their Sunday stuck inside a hot car in the sweltering sun slowly dying. Apparently some selfish fuck had had a crash, as well as part of the road being closed and the result was the both of us slowly baking like comedy shaped potatoes in giant car like tin foil. Unfortunately about 20 minutes in, we both realised we had no liquids and were this to continue we probably could die of dehydration. This is forgetting that we were surrounded by people in other cars who probably, had we been in dire need, would have given us water. But you don’t think of that when the situation is so bleak. After an hour of moving at a whole 7 miles per hour we started panicking. There was no way we would make the gig and we were getting pretty sweaty. A brief moment of enjoyment was had watching a kitten play around on the parcel shelf on the car next to us. This was until we realised that having a small pet in a hot car is probably not that nice. I hoped it had just been a mirage and kept concerns to myself.

Two hours in and the situation descended to us shouting insults at the M4. ‘Call yourself a road’ and ‘there’s better tar in a smoker’s lungs’ were our weak efforts. Tom began to construct a whole song insulting the motorway. It had a tune and some rather nice lyrics including naming some of the other better motorways in the UK. Just to really hammer the nail in the M4’s roadbased coffin, there was also a lyric about how the Autobahn’s in Germany were more roadworthy. I hope that hurt it. and to keep himself amused Tom was trying to use my idaft app on my phone to completely recreate Daft Punk’s ‘Harder, Better, Stronger, Faster’. We had given up on getting to the gig at that point as we were due there at 8 and even if we had continued, we wouldn’t have made it till at least 10pm. Unfortunately we were still 6 miles away from the turn off to turn around and get home. It took ages. Imagine ages. Longer than that. Eventually we turned around and over another hour and half made it back to North London, picked up Layla and met Nat Luurtsema to have a drink at the pub at the end of Tom and Nat’s road. It was essentially a four drive to get to 5 mins away from where we started. Never has an afternoon felt so pointless.

It was nice for Layla to meet Crainsema as I will be living with them both in Edinburgh where we will not be spending time sitting in hot cars. We had a much deserved pint in their local, which oddly used to be mine and Layla’s local only two and a half years ago. We never went in it much as it seemed to be full of Islingtonians who liked to speak about their media jobs and wear clothes that were very out of fashion and therefore somehow back in fashion. Its actually quite a nice place though and we sat, as Lily Allen and many other cockney mouthed popstars would say in a way that entirely ruins the word, alfresco. Much enjoyable banter was had and there was a fun distraction of watching two men fail to steal a bike across the road from us. They tried to wrench it off the rails but as they did another man from the pub started shouting ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ at them. This seemed to shock them and they gave wonderful excuses such as ‘its my bike, I’ve left it here for 6 months’. Not a very good excuse at all, and one that became even less impressive when they were asked why they didn’t just unlock it. One of them was wearing Adidas tracksuit bottoms which I think only added to his suspiciousness. Eventually the shouty man kept shouting at them and they rather pathetically left. Who needs the police with their truncheons when just being loud works at deterring crime? I never knew thieves could be thwarted in much the same ways as bears. I rather enjoy seeing crap crime like that. Not that I’ve really ever seen it before but I can only imagine that when it fails to work it stops being horrible and just a bit funny. I suppose that does depend on the crime. Someone being stopped halfway through killing someone is probably only so humorous. Unless they were killing them with a spoon or banana or something. Although if that were the case, it would probably be funny if they went entirely ahead with the killing.

Today (or tomorrow really as I it is still Sunday as I type) is filled with more Sandwich Rap filming and two gigs in London. One normal set and one preview. Luckily none of those things involve being in a car or going on the M4. But they do involve my entire day so hence the pre-written blog. On Tuesday we shall return to normal service. Oh and re-read the title before you go . See? Huh? Huh? Thanks. I will slap myself on the back before I log out.

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