Driving It Home

Yesterday I had a post on my blog from a chap called Paul who seemed concerned I had already written off yesterday’s blog. This post was on the blog on my Facebook fanpage before you ask, and you were going to and yes I do have one, and yes I set it up myself which screams of pathetic desperation and yes, not many people are fans. Ultimately having a facebook fan page seems more like an exercise in futile self pity and general misery. Since last night and today, someone has left my fan page. I have so few fans I know exactly when this happens, and more importantly I then spend several minutes pondering what I’ve done to cause a loss of fanbase. Perhaps it was that joke I put as a status update? Maybe they preferred it when I’m trying to be witty or telling them what I’m up to? Could it be I only encourage fans that, much like the creation of the page, have joined through the purpose of pity, but now they’ve realised I actually inform them of things its got too much? They were hoping for one of those ‘adopt a comedian’ type schemes where twice a year I’ll send them a picture of myself sitting in a tree eating a banana looking forlorn while a poorly written letter tells you I’ve been fine and well looked after and am currently mating with another one of my species successfully?

Anyway, I digress. Now gress is a different colour. Arf. I’m sure I’ve made that joke on this blog before. I don’t read them, how would I know? Back to the scheme of things, Paul should not have been concerned as the point of yesterday’s blog was not to criticise the gig, which was as it happens, pretty good fun. No, it was more to complain about the ridiculousness of driving for a round trip of 9 hours compared to the stage time of overall about 30 minutes. I have the same tonight with a great gig in Tenbury Wells. The offer of staying over was there but due to me being an idiot, I can’t. So it means I will travel for about 8 hours today to go onstage for less time than it takes for me to cook a pie. Would making a pie be a more worthwhile use of my time? Lets get this straight, making pies are almost always a better way to spend any time and so that is an unfair contest. If it was anything other than making a pie, tonight’s gig would win. Bloody love pie. No, tonight’s gig I’m sure will be ace, I’m just terrified that at some point I will mould with my car through prolonged driving, until I become a horrid cross between Mrs Haversham and a Transformer. Great Expectobot or something.

It has been said many times before that doing the circuit is often like being paid to drive somewhere, pick up your cash and drive back, with a short break to rant at some people because the lonely roads have made you mental. I suspect were there a mathematical equation for it, it’d be something like this:

(Time Travelled / Time on stage) + (money paid / how many dicks were in the audience) = overall worth of doing gig

There are of course several variables including whether or not the services inbetween have a M+S, quality of company in the car ride and whether or not they’ve decided to close the fucking M6 at 1am in the morning much like they did last night the massive bunch of utter twats. Yesterday also had a badly thought out stop at a Burger King where I reminded myself and my guts just why I haven’t eaten there in about two years, and no passengers which left my mind wondering several places it shouldn’t, such as whether or not I will see a ghost, what would happen if I just drove straight into that oil truck and what the hell have I done to lose that one fan?

Luckily I have the delightful company of Tiffany Stevenson, Brendan Dempsey and Marty McLean to keep me sane this evening. Or at least come up with other theories about my fanpage.

Small extra note: I’ve just played squash against Tom Craine again. I actually won one set, then through sheer idiocy lost the next two. And there was one rally that was so good we had to high five. I thought some of you may like to know. But also that it should be publicly stated that next week I will bring the reign. Or rain. I may just bring the rain and play another damp three sets.

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