Yesterday a 6 year old child told me that there was no way he could be scared of vampires as they didn’t exist. He then went on to explain to me and the entire audience at Comedy Club 4 Kids in Brighton, that monsters do not exist and that I am a ‘stupid’. Its very hard to be heckled by a child, mostly because there and then all I wanted to say was ‘you are a fuckwit who ruins things for everyone’ before belting him around the head with something sturdy. Like Will Carling. He is the only sturdy person I can think of, which shows how much I know about a) sports and b) sturdiness. That’s not to say he’s not sturdy although we haven’t seen him on telly for ages, so chances are he’s now quite wobbly. Or has lost one leg and just falls over. I hope not. That would make his son, Prince Harry, very sad. Either way, if you smacked this 6 year old around the head with a now retired English rugby player, it would serve him right. I can’t believe that at that age he has already lost all imagination. When I was 6 I was competent enough to know vampires probably didn’t exist, but I wasn’t sure enough to ruin it for everyone, or go round knocking on doors of castles in Transylvania shouting ‘I’m full of blood me!’. To be fair, even at my age now I wouldn’t do the latter. Or in fact the former. Maybe this is why it upset me most, because he popped the illusion for me that monsters exist and now there goes my need to check under the bed at night before I go to sleep just incase. I just can’t imagine how dull his child life must be. When his friends ask to play Star Wars or whatever film is now popular with that aged children, he probably states how he can’t because lightsabers are an impossibility as light cannot be captured or used in such a way. I expect that if he does play games he re-enacts famous war situations or plays out the current situation in Afghanistan. Perhaps at Christmas while his parents attempt to create the illusion that Santa Claus is real, this 6 year old bastard just insists on pointing out how materialistic the whole event is, how much in debt its made everyone and why is there always Morecombe and Wise repeats on every year. Basically, I’m fairly sure his childhood is dead and that makes me sad. I’m almost certain he will go on to do some sort of banking job and ruin other people’s lives.
A lot of the children at the Komedia yesterday had a similar attitude. I don’t know if its a specific way kids have been brought up there, but it made the show slightly tougher than it should have been. Don’t get me wrong, it was still fun, with a highly awesome set about bears from Gerry Howell and the ever brilliant Doctor Who material from Andrew O’Neill, but compared to the high energy Soho theatre gig last week, yesterday afternoon felt just a bit draining. It wasn’t just because there were 90+ people at Soho, and only 30+ in Brighton. No, it was because the children in London were up for fun and the kids in Brighton were too smart for their own good. A girl in the crowd was called Calendar. I stated that she should be careful incase at the end of the year her parents tried to swap her for a new one. She stared at me with an expression that said ‘you bearded fellow are not funny nor witty.’ Will Carling, please be used once again for smackery. It makes me really sad that those kids are like that. I think that childhood should be used for being childish, while you can and before anyone gets angry with you for doing childish things. When I was 4 I made my parents take me round the shops with a yellow potty on my head because I thought it was a fireman’s helmet. I knew it wasn’t, because it was a potty, but still I refused to leave the house unless I had it on my head. You can’t get away with that when you’re an adult. If I went to the shops wearing a yellow potty on my head I would probably not get served. Saying that, I do live in Finsbury Park. They are used to that sort of thing round here, so I probably would. However it wouldn’t be seen as cute, just weird. All I’m saying is kids, I know you all read this, please acts as kids while you can. Believe in vampires, because you never know and its best you’re prepared incase they do exist. We all left yesterday’s show feeling a little deflated from the lack of energy in the room, and I sulked thinking that my three new minutes of material on bogies didn’t really get a response.
After doing kids shows in the afternoon, me and Layla had a very grown -up evening by going to our friend’s Caroline and Rob’s house for nibbles and booze for Caroline’s birthday. Both Rob and Caz are very good cooks and not only do they make great tasting grub they also always make it look nice as well. I think there is something important about doing that. You could make the tastiest pizza in the world, but if it looks like someone’s run over a shaved cat and handed it to you, its not appetizing at all. So myself, Layla, and our other friends Helen, Terry and Ali tucked into a veritable buffet of canapés. Or a canopy of buffets. I’m not sure what it was, but I was pleased to discover that if you eat handfuls of finger food it’s pretty filling. I feel very sorry for people with small fingers in these situations, as it would take a lot longer to eat as much. I like these sort of grown up evenings. 10 years ago, I’d have been in my first year at University going out to our on campus nightclub, the venue, drinking booze that was so weak it was as though someone else had drunk it and pissed it back into a cup and added water, and engaging with people I would spend the next three years avoiding, before waking up the next morning regretting just about everything I had done. Instead now, we all had a lovely chat, ate craploads and I woke up today just wanting a cup of tea. I like this proper grown up thing. Well I say grown up thing, there was a large portion of the evening dedicated to talking about poo, then some about vomit, then several minutes on a certain 6 year old prick. Frankly, I hope he gets eaten by vampires. That’ll show him.
I’m in Portsmouth tonight at this place:
Come along, if you are unfortunate enough to live near, or in, Portsmouth.