In just 20 hours I get to go on the first holiday I’ve had in nearly two years. Generally holidays are a sticky subject between myself and Layla as she only has school holidays in which she can go away, and unfortunately school holidays are prime gig season all year round. Ideally I should go on holiday beginning of September or early January, both of which are the exact times Layla’s teaching term starts again. So we squeezed in a week at her parents time share in Marbella, starting at 7am tomorrow when we fly to Spain. I seriously can’t wait, but I’m scared that going away this soon before Edinburgh means I will be pacing around worrying about my show when I should be sunbathing, drinking sangria’s, pronouncing ‘jalapeno’ wrong and pointing and shouting at things I don’t know words in Spanish for i.e. everything. I bloody love holidays and have really missed the sunshine and beaches. I know its been sunny in the UK but its never the same is it? English sunshine comes attached with many unwanted extras where I live. Lots of humidity, London pollution, the tubes become horrible, traffic unbearable and of course you are still surrounded by irritating Brits, who are generally the people I want to go away to avoid. Whereas in the part of Spain we’re going to there will be blue skies, beautiful sea and sand, great food and loads of Brits. Shit. Something’s gone wrong there. Actually Layla has told me that not many Brits go to the part we are heading to, but there are lots of Germans. While I understand that this may be a mildly racist stereotype of the Germans, I do also feel relieved that there is absolutely no chance of having to do any comedy whatsoever. Genuinely quite excited at the prospect of getting enough sunshine so that there is absolutely no chance of getting rickets in Edinburgh or being affected by the damp. To be honest I’m not sure if its possible to get enough sunshine to counteract either of those and I’m worried that I may end up burnt to a crisp in my attempt to do that. I will probably end up burnt to a crisp anyway. I forget every year just how nice sunburn feels while its happening and am constantly lured into a false sense of enjoyment as the sun gently warms me. Only, then, four hours later, for everything to change and its true burning intentions appear as suddenly I become the embodiment of pain and unable to go outside for the rest of the trip.
Before any of this happens though, I have a kids comedy gig this afternoon. I haven’t done one in ages and need the practice before the large amount of kids shows I’m doing in Edinburgh. I’m hoping that after Friday’s stinker, that the comedy karma god is looking on me and making the rest of the weekend ace, so that today can go well. Last night went stupidly well, which I can only assume is some sort of balance for PJ Harvey ruining Friday. My worry now though is that I have redressed the balance and today may well be rubbish as a consequence. I mean, it really was stupidly nice. The Komedia is officially my favourite venue I think. Its constantly a great crowd in a great room and it takes a lot of effort to get it wrong there. Believe me, I’ve tried. Not intentionally you understand, but last night at the late show, some new material popped out and I mumbled a few words and they carried on listening and enjoying it. Other gigs would have turned then and there, but not those Brightonians. If they only had three or four more car parking opportunities that didn’t cost the price of a small flat, then I think it would be a contender for top city. The later gig was good fun, but the early gig was so nice I got anti-heckled. I really wasn’t sure what to do with this. During the second interval I had heard loads of lads cheering and so when I walked on I asked the stag do that were in what they were cheering for, wanting to know what had happened. One of them then said, in all sincerity, ‘We’re cheering ‘cos you’re brilliant.’ It was so lovely and yet I went all speechless, before telling him I had no idea how to deal with an ti-heckle and told him to fuck off. I worry that this is not the best way to gain fans, although it does adhere to the ‘treat em mean, keep em keen philosophy’. Perhaps I need to step this up and if it ever happens again, just head over and glass them or something. I bet that’s how the pros do it. Overall a truly good night with all the other acts being truly ace. Some grand stuff from Steve Williams and Eddy Brimson, while Steve Harris stormed it to the extent that an elderly lady with dyed red hair wanted to sleep with him. Really. In fact she wouldn’t let it go to the point where she asked the bouncer to go and get him and he had to hide back stage till she left at the end. Scary.
One of the true highlights of the evening was spotting this as we went for a walk around Brighton between the shows:
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There are times when a drunken man’s efforts should be rewarded. And lets face it this was clearly done by a drunken man. Its the sort of puerile, moronic thing that a drunken man would spend far too much time on. And so he should as its bloody brilliant and very funny and provided me, Eddy and Steve with at least two minutes of genius laughter. This laughter was then bludgeoned by the shock of a very attractive girl in a short skirt asking everyone around ‘does anyone want a kebab?’ before lifting her skirt and pants up. While there are many hot blooded males out there that would have gladly enjoyed such a display, I have to say I felt a tad disgusted at just how eager she was to get her vag out. I take back what I typed earlier, Brighton on a Saturday is a not a great place to be. Walking past a karaoke bar where there were three women dressed as a policewoman, a banana and a slut (think that’s what she was) singing badly while sitting on giant inflatable cocks, Eddy shouted ‘welcome to England, this is the only place in the world where people do that kind of stupid shit.’ And he’s completely right. How anyone can be proud of a country where a city can’t have a weekend without inflatable cocks, I just don’t know. Other countries are known for their edible delicacies, incredible landmarks etc. I’m sure that it is just a matter of years before the UK becomes known entirely for hen and stag dos with their stupid costumes and ability to vomit on themselves without really caring. That’s why I’m looking forward to Spain. No inflatable cocks there. Apart from my cock shaped lilo that is.
Now that’s a gag I won’t be doing at the kids comedy show……
