Littlest Hobo

I’m sure it wasn’t this hard to find Edinburgh festival accommodation last year? It appears that this year all the landlords have looked at the credit crunch, taken in the fact that all comedians, actors and fringe participants are broke and have therefore decided to raise all the rent by bankrupting amounts. Now, before I rant on, it’s fair to say that if I lived in Edinburgh, hated the fringe and wanted cash, then I would also jump on the flat renting bandwagon, leasing out my poky flat with its broken oven and drafts pouring through the walls like an air sieve, for thousands and thousands of pounds above the going rate. Of course I would. When in Rome, as they say, the rent is cheaper than Edinburgh during the festival. Fact. But normally, me and whoever I’ve been sharing apartments with, have found a loophole. A small flat haven with slightly cheaper rates than paying gold bullion and normally somewhere fairly nice. But this year it appears impossible. Our flat for last year has gone up in price, and everywhere else is out of our price range, so we either have to live somewhere on the outskirts of town, miles away from our venues, or start looking for cardboard boxes big enough for five of us. They’ll have to be well laminated too knowing Edinburgh’s weather.

I don’t like not having a place to live properly. It means there is nowhere you are properly safe to dance around in your Superman pants, nowhere you’ll definitely end up at when you get very drunk and only have homing pigeon like skills, and no where to lay your hat. At the moment in London I’m staying at friends, which will probably at some point, move to staying with my parents until after Edinburgh where I’m going to look for my own flat. Essentially at the moment it looks like perhaps I should just pack a knapsack and carry it on a stick, taking one of my cats with me and search for streets paved with gold. Not that there are any streets paved with gold anywhere, they’ve all been exchanged for cash. Sigh.

If you know of anywhere to live in Edinburgh, happen to have a mansion or own keys to Edinburgh castle that we can borrow for the month, please let me know. I’d like to live in the castle. I’d stand on the top of the turrets everyday in just my Superman pants and shout ‘I am the King of Scotland’. I assume it would only be about 10 minutes on the first day before I got shot down, but still, it’d be a great ten minutes.

In other quick news:

– I watched some of my Brasseye DVD last night. I hadn’t seen it in a while and since reading the Chris Morris biography recently, I’ve been really wanting to watch it again. Its brilliant. Still really really brilliant. What’s terrifying however is when it was made, the graphics seemed over the top, the music over dramatic, the way the scenes were made seemed farcical. Now, it all just seems like Sky News. Scary. Really scary.

– The Comedy Cellar in Bracknell is the best gig in the world ever.

– Apart from Fat Tuesday of course, which is better. Last one before Edinburgh preview season next week, featuring Pete Firman with his magic face. Tickets still available here:

– Yesterday I ate a chocolate lumpibumpy gâteaux. It was, easily, the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. It did however, also make me feel sick. I am tempted to start living my life as a Roman just so I can eat more, be sick and then eat more. Really I could be a great Roman. I like Cafe Nero. I don’t mind sandals.