You Say Wrexham, I say Glyndwyr

I am sitting in someone else’s house, drinking tea and using their computer while they are not here. I’m allowed to do this because the someone(s) in question are my girlfriend’s sister-in-law and her nephew. Last night I got back from the gig so late though that I haven’t seen either of them and instead a key was left for me under a planter, by a drain pipe near a side door. It all seemed very much like an early spy movie trap, which I enjoyed. When I arrived I spent some time doing spy like moves when I was looking for it, staying flat against walls, doing overly comical creeping, but then I realised were anyone to walk past I might have actually looked like a criminal. Also I let myself down by not knowing what a planter was which meant I just fumbled around for ages then nearly got panicky and just called their house phone at 1am which would have annoyed them and made me look like an idiot. To be fair I have no reason to know what a planter is as interest in anything remotely garden like shouldn’t occur until the age of 45+. Fact.

I had a rather long drive to Wrexham yesterday, which felt surprisingly fast due to the large amount of podcasts I had stacked up and ready to listen to. The list reads like a rather strange drugs order but I got through two Collins and Herring, one Adam and Joe, and three Mark Thomas all of which were very good. In fact it meant the journey was almost better than the gig itself. I say almost, but it actually was better. Glyndwyr University is in Wrexham but isn’t allowed to be called Wrexham University as it used to be an institute. No one really understands how that works, but as I usually associate the word ‘institute’ with ‘psychiatric’ I didn’t ask. When I arrived at the Students’ Union, Matt Reed greeted me with an expression that read ‘oh dear its all so dead here with no one around and a persistancy to still do the show’. His expression really did say that. And he was right. The room was dead. All the students were watching a midget with a hoover on his cock at Circus of Horrors across campus. Never let it be said the student population is dumbing down.

Reed dealt with this by drinking several vodkas which I was very jealous of. Having to drive later I coped with two coffees hoping the caffeine would mess me up, but the cold sobering situation of performing to so few people meant it never would. Eventually we started with a crowd of about 20. This may seem a reasonable amount but in the cavernous hallway it was in, those 20 seemed like the equivalent of a fly on the edge of Chris Moyles gaping cavernous shit speaking mouth. My introduction to the stage was the techie shouting ‘ Turn the TV’s off will ya’ to his mate then giving me a thumbs up. I really hope that’s how McIntyre starts his O2 shows in a few months, for that is truly the rock way to walk on.

Once again I was proved wrong and I don’t think we could have asked for a nicer 20 people in the room. They moved to the front when we asked them, they engaged in banter when asked and didn’t when didn’t and both Matt and myself had a nice gig. In the second section loads of disappointed Circus of Horrors punters turned up which meant it got even better for my next bit and Sean Percival. I like being surprised by that. All of the students did the sort of courses I have judged before on this blog as being done by idiots, but they were all sharp and nice people. Well except one guy who said he drank petrol but there’s always an exception. There was a really ace bloke in a wheelchair who told us that before uni he was a disabled athlete and competed in an event called the Standing Long Jump which he, to this day, couldn’t understand how he was meant to do it, or compete in it without the use of his legs. While this was funny there is part of me that wonders if the Para-Olympics was created out of farce. How else could you explain such ridiculously titled events? I wonder if there is also the visual relay for the blind and a race for the deaf that involves going when you hear the gun shot. Mean bastards.

I drove Matt back to Manchester on the way and he introduced me to Sigur Ros. I had it on my i-pod already but hadn’t listened to them much. Matt said he listened to them in the Alps last year and it was the perfect music for it. Its brilliant and incredibly atmospheric but didn’t seem to work as well on the M57. I will try again somewhere more scenic.

Back to the HiFi Club tonight and tomorrow for more japery. I am hoping that the arseholes that were harsh last week wont be there, but either way they were nice to me, so selfishly I don’t care. Although I can’t remember what jokes I said last week so it could go wrong if they are.
Some new vids up of my interviewing Minchin at There is a lovely awkward bit at the start where I didn’t know the camera was on and am standing a bit like someone who has been stunned by bright lights. Hopefully one day I will get the hang of this presenting lark. Rest of its ace though so do check it out and enjoy.

NB: Anyone around Monday lunchtime? There will be a demo outside the Treasury and FCo organised by Mark Thomas to demand that Prince Phillip never meets Obama. Should be fun. 12.15ish. Come along!