RIP my beard. I’ve just shaved it off and now I feel all sad. I knew there was a reason I grew a beard and its because I have a stupid chin. Its a bit lopsided and looks like I am being constantly punched in the right side of my face. Maybe I need to get someone to constantly punch me in the left side of my face to even it out. My face becomes rounder without a beard too. And I look like a child. A big round faced child. I’ll never get served in bars again. Or allowed into PG films without my dad. Its all gone because of the BBC. Its their fault. Apparently people on kids TV aren’t allowed beards. What about Rolf Harris though? Huh? He’s a got a beard. And David Bellamy. What about him? What do you mean he’s a paedophile? Oh. Well I just have to be strong and after Sunday I can grow it all back again. Maybe I will grow it back double the size in memoriam. Then I will store things in it like crisps and animals.
Just been to vote too. I took my beard with me to the vote. I thought it would want to see me not vote for the BNP. I gave it a stroke just before I put my cross on the ballot paper. It always worries me that its done in pencil. What if one of the ballot counters has an eraser and rubs out my cross and puts it by someone I don’t want to vote for? To be honest, apart from the racists, the Christians, the Tories or Labour, I wasnt really sure who to vote for. Rather than being all clever and looking up each ones individual policies, I waited till I had all the names infront of me and I just tried to find which one made me giggle the most. Well done Ute Michel. You have a very silly first name. It sounds like a slightly racist way of saying ‘youth’ or a hilarious musical instrument. I know voting like that is wrong, but what was a man with no knowledge of the candidates meant to do? Well learn abut them, I guess. But that would have been too easy. All I can say, is its bloody lucky none of the parties I don’t like had a candidate called ‘Trebor Spazzmo’ or something like that. There was no one else at my local polling station at Pakeman School. As I walked in, the people giving out the voting slips jumped. They weren’t expecting anyone. I hope this is because everyone else had voted earlier in the day or will be voting later, rather than because they were not expecting anyone to turn up at all. That would be sad. It could also be because as I walked in I shouted ‘Boo! You fuckers!’ I didn’t really. But I should’ve done.
Had a nice gig last night. I wasn’t meant to be doing a gig, but a gig appeared. I didn’t really fancy doing a gig and when I arrived it looked, by all intents and purposes, like it was going to be a huge pile of gig shit. It was in a private bar at Shepherd’s Studios in Shepherd’s Bush. Thats the building where Endemol and other companies are all based. The stage was situated in a corner of a room that contained loads of pillars, hidden booths and pool tables. None of the people in the bar were anywhere near the stage 5 minutes before it started. Luckily as Richard Sandling started the show with the best intro music ever, people actually paid attention and as I walked on stage and tried material I had just written in the car, it all became really rather nice. It was ace to see Richard too and we spent a whole 10 minutes insulting each other and the gig beforehand which is nice. Very briefly saw Shappi Khorsandi before I left too, which was nice as I haven’t gigged with her for ages. Thats mostly because she hasn’t been gigging much and instead has been writing her new book which sounds like its going to be very good. I have no idea how you would start writing a book. Actually, thats a lie. I would start it with a sentence like this:
“And then his head just flew off?” Exclaimed Basil erroneously. ‘Yes,’ said Hugh. ‘Just like that. As though it was being propelled or something.’
Unfortunately, I have no idea what to write after that. Ending would be easy though. You just put ‘The End’ or ‘Fin’ if you like fish.
I must go and bury my beard. My friend Suze recommended pouring some aftershave onto the concrete for all my dead beard homies, which I may do. Unfortunately I smashed my bottle of aftershave on the bathroom floor last week. Maybe it knew something was going to happen. Instead I think I may spray some shaving foam in the garden. If nothing else I can draw a smiley face on our neighbour’s wall. I’m sure he’ll like it. If he doesn’t I’ll tell everyone he voted for racists.