Saturday
A long time ago now, when I was about 17 and my mother used to drive me to college in Blackburn on her way to work every morning, we came to a realisation, we shouldn't talk to each other for at least the first three hours after we've woken up.


Every morning without fail the combination of me being 17, suicidal, hung over, on a come down and various other mental health issues, along side her hitting the menopause just lent itself to massive arguments right up until I left home to go to university the first time.


Until I went back to uni this time I'd lived with my mum and dad for the last 6 years on and off and when ever we shared a house we'd never broken the "no talking for the first three hours that one of us gets up" rule unless either of us had woken with a particularly cheery mood.


That rarely happened.


this morning however was to change that. I came down stairs to make a cup of tea and saw my mum was looking a little upset. I shouldn't have said anything. what I did say was "are you alright?" at which point she said that she wasn't, and that she'd opened my post and that she was disappointed in me.


There then followed an argument about the state of my bank balance and how she and my father wanted to leave the country and felt that they couldn't if I was in financial trouble.


Admittedly opening my defence with "So you're pissed off with me because you opened my private mail?" wasn't the best plan, as that only seemed to agitate her. the conversation built, and then my sister saved us by phoning to ask if one of us could babysit.


After that the conversation had calmed slightly and I managed to explain the situation. I realised that I needed to get some of the money I'm owed back asap as it was a combination of that and having spent over £1,000 on fuel for the car in the last month that had got me to this state. I had to admit to my mum that I didn't have any food in the house and hadn't for a few weeks, and quite how bad the home situation had got.


in an effort to sort a few things out, and realising that I still didn't have my purse I went out and started work at the frog, it's cool to look through some of these tapes, and watching the regular comperes over and over again doing the same "spontainious" ad libs is great. I think it's underrated, some comics change their material every couple of months, as do most of these comperes, but it's the ability to make something that you've said a hundred or even a thousand times sound like it's just come off the top of your head that takes a degree of real skill.


As this ended I headed over to pick up Dave and head off to Sheffield, Saturday was a lot easier on the roads and we got there quickly. Even though I wasn't performing it's still nice to spend both evenings back stage at a big weekend club, though getting itchy feet and wanting to get out on stage and perform is a bit irritating. Pierre said he couldn't believe I could put up with it, but I take every gig that I'm not performing at as homework and I look and I see what they're doing and how I can improve for the next time I'm on stage. This evening the crowd where a bit subdued, but soon enough the gig was over and we had to be on our way as Both Dave and I were supposed to be at a party for our friend Ros.


Now I like to be fashionably late, but arriving at a party at 1:25am, especially when it started at 8 is a bit late, half the guests were already crashing but it was still good, there was dancing and debauchery, at one point Dug and I ended up really going for it to Andrew WK's Party Hard, trying to get some guy we'd barely met up and dancing, it was only when the song finished we saw the whole rest of the party staring and laughing. But you know, make fun where you can.


We also met some ace guy from Chicago called Chase, of course, he'd only been in England for three days so I guess I must have been about the thousandth person to say "Wow that's cool, Americans always have cool names like that or... erm... carbohydrate-enema, or, erm... sardine-mangle" Funny how at that time in the morning your ability to recall things fails you.


Apparently, he doesn't really "get" British humour, So if you're reading this I apologise for the next thing that happened, I asked him where he was from, he told me Chicago, I said "oh wow, Chicago Illinois, home of erm..." Dug chipped in "Alcatraz!" "no, that's San Fransisco." We both looked disappointed, I ventured "the Empire State Building?" "No that's New York." Dug again went for "that big mountain with the blokes faces on it?" "Again, no, that's South Dakota." finally I went with "Sea World?" apparently that's Orlando. thankfully we all thought of the Jerry Springer Show and the Blues Brothers at the same time, so that we didn't end up looking foolish.


at about six Am everyone was starting to fall apart and sleep was needed for all of us so we got a lift Back to Dugs from Katie Mulgrew who for the first time in a party situation that I've been in wasn't "the Drunkest" a crown which she took from me when I quit drinking.


It's been a year and three months since I last had a drink, and it's been a year and a half since I got utterly trashed at a birthday, stripped to the waist (bottom half) drank a load of flaming Absinthe, managed to break a toilet seat with my face and ended up passed out across Barry Dodds' lap whilst he held a bottle of poppers under my nose to try and "bring me round" so that he could get me to drink some more absinthe.


You know, I don't miss it.


It was nine by the time I went to sleep. another full day with little that I can really explain about it.


Sundaynday, for the most part was spent wrapped in a Duvet sat on a couch whilst watching everyone else try to recover. I helped them all out as best I could with cups of tea. but essentially it was a day of DVDs, fortunately considering the fragile mental state of some of the guys it was good we didn't end up watching, as was suggested Pan's Labyrinth, or Last Man Standing. I'd learned from watching Deep Impact one new year's day that you should never watch anything that bleak when hung over or on a comedown, unless you wanted your mind to turn against you for good. In the end we watched Josie and the Pussycats A fantastic bubblegum movie and one of my favourites.

At one point Doley had gone to get showered as he had a gig that evening at Matt and Phred's on Tib Street and emerged not looking like death as he had 20 minutes earlier, but looking fresh as a daisy and with a big smile looking fine. "Anyone want a cup of tea?" he asked before disappearing off to make us all one.

about five minutes later he came through to the lounge still looking fine for a few minutes stood watching the TV before letting out a small wail, crouching down and saying "Oh God, I've horribly misjudged that. It was a false dawn!"

His set that evening was specacular, as was the performance from the headliners Die Clatterschenkenfietermaus, if you've not seen them I Urge you to go and see them, sell your children if you have to they are one of my favourite acts of all time, Jason Cook who plays Karl Karl is one of the few people I know who could do a one hour Edinburgh Show which was just made up of put-downs for an audience.

From here on in it was to the pub for a drink then home to watch the Oscars with my mum before I passed out on the couch before Monday which was to be one helluva day.

Friday

It's around noon I'm trying to roll a cigarette. I've just woken up to find 6 missed calls on my phone between 5:30 and 6:00am all from a witheld number. I realise I've won the competition I'd entered on the radio the previous night and that the phone had gone off just as I'd fallen asleep. this isn't good, I'm guessing that they'll have given the prize to someone else. Never mind, I'm going to have a shower and get down to the Frog and organise those tapes and earn some money. I have my breakfast of cigarette and mug of tea and have a shower, first though I send Sarah a text asking her to mark which are her calls on the phone bill so I can get that paid.

As I get out of the shower and get dressed I hear her come home. I go to my room and pack my stuff to get gone for the weekend.

Soon I take it down stairs, I've not seen Sarah for over a week now, and not spoken to her since I sent her the text telling her how much I missed her. when I get into the living room she doesn't seem to want to talk to me, I tell her her new hair cut looks great, she says thank you and continues to talk to Cairon. They both ignore me.

I say I'm going now, and she tells me to wait. my heart's beating really fast, like it used to when I'd see one of my ex girlfriends, I went out with her when I was a teenager and she broke my heart, we were only together for 6 months, but it ended without warning and from that day on I carried all those feelings with me for years and whenever I'd see her I'd get so nervous. Evenutally many years later we met up again and started seeing each other and I soon found out that it wasn't going to work out, and not only that but the feelings I'd got that sickly nervous stomach feeling were mistaken, I thought it was love. It was actually hate. It's strange that you can confuse the two so easily.

Sarah decides that she wants to go through the phone bill now and we sit there and go through it and it's cool, we're having a laugh and we're getting on quite well, but by the time it's done it's gone five, and I'm supposed to be driving jonathan Mayor and Dave Williams over to a gig in Sheffield tonight. Whilst we're talking I tell her about the girl in Vanilla who I find a fancy, and then about the girl on the bus yesterday. She was the most beautiful human being I'd ever seen, and how I was kicking myself that I didn't say something, even though I know that nothing would have come from it I could have just walked over as I was leaving and say "I just want you to know that I think you're beautiful." it'd have made her day, either that or she'd have thought I was weird and ranted at me in a broad Manchester accent which would have burst the bubble and either way that would have been that sorted. I don't tell her that I think that by finding other people fanciable and feeling this way that it means I'm very nearly over her. I think she knows.

As I head off into rush hour traffic I realise that I've actually had fun and that the weird bad mood that I've had hovering on and off for the last week or two is disipating. I pull over and text Sarah, I tell her that I had a great afternoon and that I hope she has a great night out with her sister and her girlfriend and to pass on my love to the pair of them, and that with all my heart I love them all.

I carry on Driving and due to the traffic I'm about 5 minutes late picking up Dave, then as we're trying to get to Jonathan's I stop off to pick up some fuel, I get to the counter and realise that I've left my purse back at the flat. I have to ask Dave for the petrol money early.

I've now got no money for the whole weekend. this isn't going to put a dampner on things though.

As we get to the turning for Jonathan's house about 9 busses are trying to use the junction some to get to the depot some trying to get away from there, either way it takes an extra 10 minutes to get to Jonathan's. But hte time we pick him up we're already 10 minutes behind schedule, and the traffic over snake pass just makes that worse.

We eventually get there 10 minutes after the show's supposed to start, so the show starts late.

It's a great show with a great line up. Pierre Hollins is opening Dave's on in the middle and Steve Gribbin's closing. Robin Ince has been supporting Ricky Gervais earlier in the evening so he's popped in for a chat.

After the show we stick around until the bitter end and drive back, I eventually get back to my mum's in the early hours and head off to bed. Today was a good day, though fairly uneventful.

Thursdayh! W-huh? Fwwah!

So I awake on the floor in Dug's room, time's getting on, he's still asleep in his bed and we'd planned to do some stuff today.

Realising that there's no Sugar rules out the early morning cup of tea, but I roll a cigarette and look out of the window to a Grey Manchester morning, the Hospital looks like some kind of military industrial compund, like the building from Terminator 2.

I manage to get Dug up and out of bed and we get our shit together, I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night and smiling from how much of a good night it was. Today though we're off down to the Frog and Bucket to get some tapes and to watch some of the old ones in the sound booth. Dug's washing machine's broken again, this time we're fairly sure it's just a fuse, but as Dug's got no screwdriver I can't fix it.

Ever since they started to build a new construction behind the Frog there's now nowhere we can park for free in the City Centre so it's time to get the bus.

as we head up there we're talking about how little money we've got, Dug can't pay his rent agian this month, and because I've helped him out the last couple of months I can't afford to lend him any money as I've eaten through all my savings and this last month some of the paid gigs I had booked in have either been cancelled or I've realised they've been double booked with important tryouts that I've been supposed to be doing.

Managing to mess up the Midlands Comedian of the year competition and losing out on the £1,000 was a blow too. And yesterday evening I found out that the gig I was supposed to be doing tonight for some cash has been pulled as the venue is being redecorated.

It's cold, but I still know everything's going to be alright.

We get to the frog and look through the tapes. Dug's in good cop, bad cop mood with Lee, telling him he loves him, then insulting him, finally saying "Lee, can I borrow a screwdriver?" Lee says he can't as they've to stay in the office, but that he can buy one for £1.50 in a shop on Tib Street. "I haven't got £1.50, I can't pay my rent and I've got no money coming in." Lee says "Oh for fucks' sake!" and goes to get the money out of his pocket to give to Dug, quick as a flash Dug says "thanks, can I have a tenner?" Cheeky bastard that he is. He then asks Lee how much he'll give him for a blowjob, the £40 that lee jokingly offers, it appears isn't enough. Dug then tells Claire that he'll sleep with her if she'll give him £40, she politely declines, he offers to sleep with Gemma for free.

This is why I love Dug.

anyway we look throught he tapes and can't find the one of Dug, but both the ones of me I find quickly. I offer to organise the tapes for Lee for a fee and he agrees, this I will be doing over the next couple of weeks.

John Scott's in the office when we come back up from searching through the tapes and watching Tony Law from October. So we decide to head on out to get some whiskey for him to give as a present, and I realise I need food.

We're walking and talking about stuff and end up in Subway. Whilst we're sat there I spot Wil Hodgeson walking past the window and he heads on in to see us, He's doing his show in Salford at the Lowry this evening.

We agree to meet up afterwards, I like Wil, he's ace and one of my favourite comedians to go and watch. as he leaves I say to the Guys, "you know it's moments like that that I'm glad Comedy chose me." Because it does, you don't choose it, it decides that it wants you to be its bitch and there's nothing you can do about it. (more about that on Monday's blog)

We soon head off down to Taurus in Canal Street for a couple of drinks as we chat about stuff in general, and the topic quickly moves onto drugs, and a conversation I'd had with a close friend who shall remain nameless a while back, about wheather you could stick ecstacy pills up your bum, obviously you can, physically at least, but the question was "does it work?" She said yes and asked if any of us had done that, as she had. "Well call me Val Doonican, but I prefer to take my drugs the old fashioned way!" was the response from one of our party. Apparently it does work, but if you are doing it, not that I condone drug use or would ever touch them again, but if you are doing it then make sure you're using a finger with short nails to stick them up there, so as not to do yourself any damage, or end up with a fingernail full of poo.

So the discussion around the table was whether that was true and would work, I said I'm sure it would, but chewing them would be a bit of a problem, and if it didn't work and then fell out, even covered in shit it should taste better than normal.

the principle's the same as either snorting vodka or having a wine enema. the latter of which I did once years back and it gets you drunk straight away, so if you've got a bottle of white that tastes of horse piss, but you want to get pissed, then I suggest this as a slightly better way of taking it. I read an interview with the band Mogwai once where they said that on the tour bus they'd messed about dipping tampons in vodka and then sticking them up their bum.

I'm not sure how this works, most people, I think, with the exception of those with little or no contact with women, and gay men, would see the flaw in this plan, the second you get them damp tampons increase in size and there's no way you could shove a flaccid tampon up your bum hole no matter how you tried.

But John was telling us about some old friends back in his teenage years who reckoned that if you put a tab of blotter acid under your eyelid you'd get high straight away. OW!

I still think up the bum is the best idea, as John pointed out it's about the most deviant you can be, drugs are already illegal, and whilst I don't condone their use I still think that they should be all legalised.

The thing is I like to think of the pills up the anus method of taking them as "Kicking in the backdoors of perception."

It's amazing what a stay in hospital can do for your level of embarassment, ever since the last two stays I've had no problem talking about bottom issues (in both senses of the word).

Last time I was in they gave me dihydracodeine for a couple of weeks and that is quite some thing to make you constipated, I didn't poo for 8 days, and considering I'm usually regular enough to go at least once or twice a day. As Michael J Dolan Britain's Favourite Funnyman(tm) said to me "it's like an anal lottery, one day it'll be the size and consistency of a Cadbury's Creme Egg, the next day, pints of poo soup!"

But after 8 Days I looked about 5 months pregnant, not quite the Christmas Miracle and Second Coming that everyone was hoping for. But my Dr prescribed me industrial laxitives and some enemas that didn't work. Well didn't work until after I'd stopped taking the dyhidracodeine, at which point my digestion system kicked in and the 26 sachets of laxatives hit my system in one go.

I swear I nearly shit myself inside out. I'd nearly had an impacted colon, now I had an arsehole like JFK's forehead. I lost a stone in weight in one day. That's got to be one to tell the grandkids. That was my own personal Battle of the Somme. At least that's what the bathroom looked like afterwards, for me then to realise that there was no toilet paper was unfortunate, at least I wasn't in the house on my own and my mum managed to get me some.

Later that evening I get back to the frog in the evening just in time to watch the middle section, I say hi to Susan Murray who's just been on and she offers to get me a drink which I accept, then a couple of seconds later she introduces herself to me. "We've met before" I have to tell her, my ego slightly deflated. Anyway it's good to see her and we talk a bit. Sean Moran and Leanne Ross both do their sets and are really good, I love Sean and I've worked with him since I started doing this and Leanne's one of those people who I met a couple of times and just found that I could talk to for ever, though I've not seen her since Edinburgh.

John Scott headlines and tries out some new stuff and it's brilliant, he's on fire tonight, after he'd done a mainstream gig the previous night he said he felt like he could be let off his leash a bit here.

As the evening closes Vince Atta turns up, and we're having a laugh and a joke and just messing about, I start dancing until he says "You dance like a straight white boy!" Soon enough I get in touch with Jonathan Mayor who's heading into town so we all arrange to meet up at Churchill's. When we get there Vince shares some good news that I can't really go into here, but suffice to say I'm really pleased for him.

We chat and argue and laugh for ages, but the race is on! Both Vince and myself are huge fans of Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, and we both have this ambition that we'd like to direct the movie version of them. We shake on it that we're now competing to be the director at the helm, I want to be Death in the film if Vince gets to make it. For reasons best known to himself he wants me to be Dream.

We get talking about money. I sometimes get the feeling that I'm the only person in this whole industry who's constantly at the limit of her bank account, only just scraping by enough to live off. It turns out that I'm not, and that all of us have been in the same boat and that it takes about 5 years from the point that I'm at to actually make enough to have a decent standard of living. Hope springs.

John Leaves the party and time's about to be called, it's two in the morning I think, but we're not ready to go home yet, and the only place we can go where we can get in at this time for free is Company. It's a Men only bar, so that's out of the question.

Isn't it?

Out on the street we switch jackets I'm wearing Vince's baggy army coat to hide my boobs with my hair pushed down in front of my face and I'm saying "This isn't going to work". "well not if you carry your bag like that!" says Jonathan. And as we're walking down there I'm getting told how to walk, coached on how to sit down when we get in there. "I never thought I'd ever have to be taught this."

Once through the door we go and try to find a quiet corner. Last time I was in there was after pride a few years ago, after a few shandys and a little light medication, and the only thing I remember about the place was that it had a vaguely dungeon S&M feel, and that there where a bunch of Old School acid bleached jeans and Cherry red Docs type skin heads in there dancing with each other to tunes from the Wizard of Oz.

This time I'm sober and clean, and looking round it's a little more frightening, though I'm not sure why. It's not like if I get found out I'll be in any danger, because by definition I'm the last person they'd want to find in there. Though some guy is checking me out, I giggle about this later thinking that if he did try it on it would be a bizarre reversal of that old movie cliché. As we're stood at the bar Vince says "you know, I've seen this situation in movies quite a lot recently, Romantic comedies mainly, It's a Boy/Girl thing."

It's the first time I've been in a movie situation since the last time I messed up and double booked two dates on the same night in the same restaurant. It didn't have the farce element of me trying to be at both meals, one turned up, then the other one then they both got pissed off with me and left together, apparently they've just moved in together recently, meanwhile I'm living with my ex and eating pot noodles on my own in my room in my bra and pants.

As I don't need the toilet we're fine the whole time we're in there and eventually decide to head off to Rusholme for some food.

Now this is where it all starts to go wrong. As we're going to leave Jonathan goes off to talk to some guy and Vince and I are trying to leave. We'd decided that if anyone tried it on with either of us we'd pretend to be going out with each other.

Simple.

Right up until an old guy comes over and says "Assalamu alaikum" to which we both replied "salam alaikum" and Vince trie dto show this guy that we were togeher, he said "yes you have a beautiful wife! SHe is very beautiful!" Vince said "No he is handsome!" This guy wasn't having any of it, and I think at this point the sheer amount of caffine from the number of cans of Coke that I've drunk kickstarts my paranoia that I'm about to get into a fight so I leave.

Eventually Jonathan catches up with uys and we head off for some food, it's about 3:30 and we head into the Lal Quila takeaway, just as a fight kicks off. In my head I'm not sure if I can just feel the tension or if it's the tension and fear that's slowly creeping up in me that's causing anger and violence around me.

We head over the road to Sajaam and order our food.

There's a bunch of teenaged Asian lads in there and a white girl who they're being horribly racist to, they keep calling her "Oink oink" and she's trying to figure out what it is that they're saying and why they keep calling her that. She gives as good as she gets, though when she says "the only thing I can think of is that oink oink is pig, and that's banned in islam." and they suddenly start pulling out the religion card on her asking her why she has to bring religion into it.

After I drop the guys off at home I head back to Crewe. On the way I listen to the radio, there's a competition on Radio 2 "what links Christopher Eccleston to Ewan McGreggor?" As I pull up outside the house I text the answer "Shallow Grave" and head on inside to bed.

I pick up the Sandman comic I'm reading and decide to just get some sleep, it's been a long day, and it's been fun and terrifying all at the same time. Company was fun in spite of the fear, I like being put into odd situations and seeing how I deal with them. I soon drift off into a sound sleep. and dream of things to come.

It's been another fantastic day, what can tomorrow bring?

Another busy week, I really did mean to get on here every day and write up a little bit every day, but you know, in the words of Ferris Bueller; "life moves fast".

Everything changes so fast and moves on and moves up and you've just got to be prepared for it.

What I'm going to do is one post for each day, otherwise you end up with a 8,000 word thesis on my week.

Last wednesday I was off out to watch Hot Fuzz with some new friends, we had a great time, firstly going to Pizza express and just talking about stuff, well except for one of the women I met up with saying "you don't look anything like your photo on Gaydar" now I know I look hot on that picture, so that was a bit annoying. We ended up all sharing stories of messed up conquests lost loves and the general embarrassment of daily life. I'll not divulge theirs here but I was saying about a couple of months ago when I'd been seeing a really lovely girl and I just wasn't ready for a relationship, so I went over to hers one Friday night whilst I dropped my friends off in town. I didn't know how it would go, but I suspected tears and me leaving within a few minutes. That didn't happen, we chatted and got on well especially now that the pressure ofr the potential of a relationship and possibly some sexual activity was out of the way.

A few hours later my Ex phoned, I'd dropped her off in town with some friends. Now she's got a really strong Northern Ireland Accent, she's from Co. Down, now some people think that's a harsh and scary accent, but when she used to talk it was like an angel touching me where I pee from. Unfortunately she has no volume control, and you know what it's like when you're listening on your mobile and you're sure that everyone in the room can hear you? Co. Down, like the syndrome.

The room was silent except for me on one side of a mobile phone conversation trying not to say anything incriminating, and her gabbing her mouth off "So have you dumped her yet?" I could feel my face flush, I'm not a nasty person, and I think most of my problems in everyday life come from trying to make sure that I go to any lengths to make sure that no one feels awkward, and that I'm as nice as I can be to people. The conversation went on for a little bit, and I noticed the girl I was sat with getting a bit red too.

I hung up.

we sat in silence for a few seconds.

I had to break the silence: "Well... This has got awkward really quickly."

Soon after that I left.

Anyway this night was great and I really enjoyed the film. afterwards when the others had gone home to bed it was about 1am and I really didn't feel like going home yet, so I headed off into town, and down to Vanilla, at this point of the evening I needed lesbians.

I'd forgotten that it was rock night in there, which was a pleasant surprise. I had a quick look round and realised I didn't know anyone in there, I also noticed that I was about 10 years older than most of the women in there. I got my drink, and headed up onto the balcony to stand, drink my drink smoke a cigarette and look dark, mysterious and above all cool.

In my head I'm looking like Shane from the L word, or like a slightly more femme Gina Gershon in Bound. I realise I'm pulling my "I'm so sexy and cool" face and decide to stop it just so no one comes up to me and says "you alright? My mum's got bells palsy too."

At this point I'm just smiling and watching all the young people dance. There is a reason for the phrase "you dance like a lesbian" and tonight in here was the proof.

as I'm stood there a really hot girl comes over and asks me for a light. Normally I'd just give her the light and leave it at that, expecially as she was really good looking.

But not this night

We stard talking, and I didn't make a complete tool of myself, and she asks me to join her dancing and stuff, so I head on down to the dance floor, where upon she disappears off to talk to different people after introducing me to a few of her friends. I end up talking to a woman I know from Myspace and we're getting on well, the women's football team are in because it's one of their player's birthday. Lesbians, in a women's football team? Unlikely! but in the end I end up talk ing to loads of people, one of the girls comes over and recognises me as a comedian. This normally happens once every couple of weeks, but recently it's been happening a lot more.

The Girl from Myspace says "you know, you don't look anything like your Gaydar picture?"

As the evening winds down at about 3 I head out into the street talking to two of the people I've met.

One of them is loved up and drunk, so her conversation is on a 1 minute loop. She decides I'm depressed and keeps telling me to keep my chin up, literally, and that I need to go and sit in a room on my own and just look at the walls and get to know myself and decide I'm not going to be unhappy anymore. I'm accutely aware that I'm fingering the rosary beads in my pocket. I'm not a Catholic, though at any one time I'e ususally got about 6 sets of rosary beads on me, they make me feel safe, and each time that the universe seems to be telling me something subconciously I tend to go for them and then realise that I'm rubbing them for some reason.

As we get back to my car I say good bye to them and take their number before heading off to catch up with Dug as he finishes work.

As they dissapear off into the night all I can hear is Freddie saying to Fester "No I'm telling you that's not her, she looks nothing like that picture on Gaydar"

All in all a good night.

As I head back with Dug I realise that today I've gone out on my own, and met people I didn't know, that I've tried to make conversation and most importantly I've found that I quite fancied someone.

It's a good sign, I never normally fancy anyone, and definately never when I'm in love with someone.

I think I'm nearly over Sarah finally, and it's taken 6 weeks short of a year. As I drift off to sleep the sun's rising on a brand new day.

It's going to be a beautiful day.

Well it's been a busy week, with ever spare second accounted for, a combination, "Just one of those days", as Limp Bizkit might say, ony it's been stuck on repeat.

Saturday was great My friends Carrie and Carey were up in Manchester for the weekend, I met Carrie in Edinburgh last summer and she's ace, we got on really well the whole time we were up there, but like so many other things living over 200 minles away we don't get to see each other, last time I'd seen her she was single, now she's engaged, and Seeing the pair of them together I couldn't be happier for them.

Carey was playing the Manchester Store this weekend so we went down to see him for a little bit, In the dressing room I realised that I'd not seen any of the acts who were on for a while. I thanked Alfie Joey for the advice he'd given me last time we gigged together as it'd really helped me. Then I tried to say "it helped playing liverpool I think I've got how to play there cracked I think" but it came out as "Thanks for the advice, I think I've got it cracked now." as the words were leaving my mouth I knew what I'd done even before everyone in the room laughed and said "You always think that, and then you get a run of gigs that prove otherwise, and you can't understand why you're doing badly."

I'd jinxed myself, surer than walking into the greenroom at a gig after the first section of the night and saying: "Well the audience seems lovely tonight." That's the kind of talk that leads to people getting stabbed in the toilets after the gig and things being thrown at the stage.

It'd be 24 hours before I knew exactly what I'd done.

We went for a meal in China town and had a chat, Carey had to get back for the late show so I showed Carrie round my home town.

The next day I got up fairly early considering and got straight to work on a Presentation I had to do on Monday for my Sexuallity and culture module. I knew I was on a limited time frame so I just worked on it all day, not stopping for food or a drink. in between writing I was still using my positive affirmations in preparation for the competition final later that evening. Seeing the state my funds were in after I'd had to make some emergency purchases over the last month I knew if I didn't win the £1000 that night I'd have to cut back on pretty much everything just to try and survive, considering I'd not got enough gigs booked in at the moment due to college commitments.

At 5 I had to leave, I eventually got out of there by twenty past, thinking I could make up some time on my way there, but I'd still arrive at about 8:10, a good twenty minutes before the gig started and enough time to get changed and chill before the gig started.

I still managed to get lost even with the nice Sat Nav lady, I think she's doing it on purpose now after I didn't take her side when Katie Mulgrew argued with her.

Getting to the venue at about 8:15 I went upstairs and was greated by a big guy on the door "Bethany? You're a bit late, you're on next."

At this point I normally wake up.

Not today.

Shit! So I run back down stairs put my make-up on in the bathroom. then head straight up to the greenroom in the pub. Assorted comics are all sat round looking like the opening boat scene on Saving Private Ryan. No time to go back downstairs I change into my stage outfit infront of the rest of them, after getting my arse out infront of 200 angry bikers at a rally I was performing at, somehow I've not been too worried about being semi naked in front of virtual strangers ever since. Checking that the batteries work in my rampant rabbit I slip it into my outfit and get ready to go on stage, totally unprepared for what audience will be out there and what they've been responding to.

The act who's on before me seems to over run, at this point it's just adding to the nerves. When he does get off I say "Nice, one, good gig." though this is just a pleasantry at this point I'd not listened to a thing he'd said, as for most of the journey my mind had been filled not with the task at hand but with my Ex and her new girlfiend, I don't know why, but even now as I was about to go on it was there.

The compere says my name and I step into the room through a black curtain and onto the stage, the compere is still there having difficulty putting the mic back into the stand. He gives up and gives it to me, leaving me to fumble the mic back into the stand.

First impressions are really important in this business, and the first 30 seconds on stage are key, the audience are already judging whether they'll like you, and if you don't get them then it's difficult to get them later on.

I do my opening line, an ice breaker to get them onside, looking like I do on stage they need to be put at ease.

The laugh that I've expected to get from the opening salvo of jokes doesn't come quite as easily as usual, and the lines that I've said a million times can't seem to turn to words as they leave my mouth, it's like wading through porridge. they can't seem to find their way out of the hole in the front of my face and all I get is a luke warm response to even my bankers.

At this point I decide not to go with the material I've never done at this gig before, material that I know works all over the country, and decide to go back to some of the older material that I know is more "crowd pleaser". I do the stories in the wrong order, because I'm now worrying about how it's going to go. A big groan of disgust from a group of guys at a lesbian sex joke that normally gets a fantastic response throws me and all I can think of is the lesbian jokes that I no longer really do, suddenly there's about five minutes of them coming out of my mouth each getting less response than the last.

I do the rampant rabbit joke too early and then finish on a piece of material that's not strong enough, in between this I mess up the punchline of a new one liner I've written, saying the punchline first. And I carry on talking about 30 seconds after the natural punchline of a joke.

I tell them all that I love them with all my heart and get off the stage.

The big guy on the door says "how was it?"

"Fucking terrible." I'm furious with myself and head straight back into the green room, I get changed as quickly as I can whilst Phil Ellis, bless him, Says "I really enjoyed that, it was good." "No it wasn't!" I say, "it was fucking awful!!!"

Men With Bananas are on stage as I finish getting changed, as I leave the greenroom with my bag I say to the orrganiser and Compere "I'm really sorry, I don't know what happened." and I leave the venue.

I get lost on my way back to my car and wander round for about ten minutes trying to find it. When I get there I sit in the driver's seat in shell shock and burst into tears.

It's about as bad as I've ever felt after a gig, the only other time was doing a gig in my home town of Preston, opening for a heavy metal band, the audience hated me from the start and there was a big group of kids stood to one side of the stage repeatedly shouting "Garlic Bread!" every couple of seconds. This gig I also left in tears, and then managed to crash my car into a small wall on my way out of the gig. To this day that's the only gig that most of the people I know in my home town have ever seen me at.

This time however I'm sat in a car in Leicester crying, realising that without the money that I could have won I'm in a bit of financial trouble, and wondering how much worse I could feel.

I decide to test this and fire off a text to my ex telling her how low I feel at the moment and that I'd usually phone her at this point to talk about it and she'd usually cheer me up, that I've realised how much I miss that, and then even more stupidly I end it with "I love you".

The humiliation is complete. I always thought when I stopped drinking that I'd never send any of these texts again.

On my way back to Manchester, trying to get as far away from the gig as fast as I can I stop off and get some cigarettes and some fuel, knowing I can't really afford the cigarettes, it's like a self destruct thing, so I also get a Ginsters sausage roll and lots of chocolate.

But by this time I'm so depressed that even a radio one phone in about anorexia can't cheer me up.

I'm back in Manchester for 10:30, the gig's probably still going on and with the makeup down my face I'm looking like Alice Cooper.

The next moring I'm woken up by someone crying, I can't figure out who it is at first then realise, it's me. This is a bit odd.

I set off from Manchester to Crewe to go to university. I've got another presentation due for Tuesday and the two people I was in a group with have made no contact with me and it's less than 24 hours away. I go to see the Lecturer who tells me that I need to do something and that if I don't then I'll get 0%

I manage to find one of my group, she tells me that the texts I sent last week "didn't seem urgent" and that's why she'd not bothered to reply.

We should really be working on it all day, but I've got another presentation to do in another lecture, at least that's what I spent the previous day doing and that was part of the reason I was late for the gig. When I get to the Lecture it turns out my presentation is next week.

Still I've got a couple of hours to work on the one for the next day, before I have to head off to Derby.

When I get to derby I'm still not in the best of moods from the night before, but that soon changes when some of the other acts get there and I get talking to Jane Bostock, she seems really ace, and appears to be on a similar wavelength to me. Chatting to her cheers me up a bit.

Then Sarah Ruff and a guy whose name I can't remember turns up (this is frightfully remiss of me, after all he did buy me a drink.) Jane gets a subdued response from the audience who are slow warming up, and in the second section they're livelier as Sarah picks them up by the scruff of the neck, like some situationist comic, she's on stage with really quick delivery shooting from one topic to another confusing and amusing the audience in equal measure and then in about 5 minutes she's off leaving the audience wondering what they've just seen. The guy who was on after her was excellent too, and he jsut brought the energy levels right up, at this point I'm waiting to go on and preparing to ride the wave of the energy.

But I forgot, this is one of Spikey Mike's gigs. And as much as I love Spikey Mike, and as much as I really enjoy playing his clubs, he's got a really strange compereing style. Asking the audience to stop clapping, and trying to get them silent for a few moments before bringing me on. All the energy has gone from the room and it's like the gig's had it's reset button hit.

The audience go from slow to start with, to almost hostile when I do some of my more personal material. I can feel the audience tension building and know that if one more bit doesn't get a laugh they're going to get agressive, so I say:

"well I've been doing this long enough to spot when there's tension in a room, and this game's all about tension and release, youi build tension with the set up and release it with the punchline. It's easy, what I've got now is a lot of tension that's not being released because you don't like any of the punchlines, so I tell you what, I'll do a shit pun to win you back and then I'll do some material that's easier for you to listen to, OK?"

they seemed ok so I did a new joke that I've written, but it's one of those that came so easily I'm not sure if I actually thought it up or if someone else is actually doing it. If anyone knows please feel free to get in touch with me and I'll drop it. but the joke is this "I bought a sat nav the other week, it's great. I took it to a safari park last week, it said "bear left" I thought "Fuck! that's accurate!""

At this point I explained what I'd done there and went on to some tried and tested stuff that normally works and I'd managed to win them back.

To me that was a more satisfying gig, for having had them, then lost them, then got them back at the end.

After the gig Mike said that he didn't think it was fair putting me on after such a high energy act and that my slightly slower pace would have suffered so he tried to take some of the energy out of the room. Well you kow, we should all stick to what we're good at. (Mike if you read this that was a joke).

All the while that this was going on, over in Manchester the first comedy night in one of Manchester's premiere lesbian Bars "Vanilla" was getting underway. Bex the girl who was trying to organise it had asked me to perform, but I was booked, so I said I'd help her out and over the previous week I'd been trying to get acts at the last minute to perform, it's more difficult thn you'd think, partly that the venue won't allow us to charge on the door just yet, they want to see that it's a success first, so that means that until Next months is as much of a success as this month's we can't pay the acts so I've been trying to pull favours.

The acts I had for the opeing night were Dug Shelmerdine, Michael J Dolan Britain's favourite Funnyman(tm), Katie Mulgrew and Isma Almas. 48 hours before the show Katie pulled out and I realised that I was so busy and had so few numbers for anyone who lived nearby who'd be a suitable replacement that I was kind of stuck.

Apparently when Dug and Dolan turned up the Lovely Lesbians of Vanilla managed to prove my point about being "Aggressively Lesbian" once again. Apparently both were terrified. Both were about to walk out and not bother playing there. Until Bex who runs the night put them at their ease and apparently not only did it all go well, but that Dug, Dolan and Isma all said that it was a lovely gig.

Now I've just got to try and capitalise on that and get it working realy well, except that I'm Double booked for next month too.

Since that the minutae of my daily life has revolved around work mainly. though yesterday I went round to Dug's and made him some pancakes, which we then ate before I passed out on his couch.

I'm off to the Cinema tonight, I think we're watching Hot Fuzz. should be good.

And then tomorrow I'm looking forward to playing the Clarrence in Rusholme, Manchester. I love working with Vince Atta and it's been too long since we gigged together.

until next time

I love you all with all my heart.

Well It's Saturday afternoon, really I shouldn't be awake right now, having got in at five in the morning, yesterday was one of those days where for the first half I would have done better if I'd just stayed in bed. But more of that later, I've got three days to catch up on. Don't panic though, I'm sure it won't be as long as the last couple of blogs. Though that said, I always say that and then get carried away. Anyway, here goes.

Wednesday

Well Valentine's day brought an empty post box, not even a valentine's email, Though I was woken with a phone call from an anonymous number, a secret admirer maybe? No, Val From Rawhide confirming I was still performing on Thursday which I was, and it's always lovely to hear from Val, her voice just always cheers me up. The day was a bit busy anyway, For a presentation next week I had to watch On the Waterfront wiht Marlon Brando, I'd not seen it before and it was ace, one of those films that gets you in the mood to be creative. By the time I'd seen it though I only had a short time in which to get ready and head off down to Tewkesbury, the Sat Nav told me she thought it would take 1hr 33mins, but knowing the way I drive two hours would be about right. My Friend Lyn who I was keeping me company had split up with her partner about this time last week, so I got her some flowers and a card reading "Let's be bitter spinsters together". This seemed to cheer her up a bit.

The drive was uneventful just catching up, and then we got there and it's a lovely place, like being in an episode of Midsommer Murders, but without the incredibly high murder rate. Actually I don't know about that, I've not checked the statistics, it may well have. The theatre where the gig was looked a bit posh, and was oposite the Scout Hut (during the first interval the scouts left their hut and got picked up having grown up in a small village near a town with a bit of a heroin problem this sort of place felt like it didn't belong to me, it was too nice, a bit stepford wives-ey.).

Getting into the gig the average age of the audience was higher than I'm used to, and a combination of that and the town we were in gave me visions of the Woodford Royal British Legion gig that I did fairly late on last year. I'd been MCing the Kinklusive event all day, which was great fun, the biggest collection of S&M practitioners in the North West, wall-to-wall perverts. You know. My kind of people, as Michael Barrymore might say, and he allegedly fisted a man to death. It was fun but a bit of a weird one, well any gig where I bare my arse and stick a ringing mobile phone up my hoop deserves the title "Weird" Made worse by the fact the gig started at 10 in the morning after I'd been out at Club Lash until 4 in the morning, so the early start played havoc with my digestion. I hope the phone's owner cleaned it, or at least hasn't since died from some strange illness.

Anyway I'd been doing this gig all day, and was then giving my very close personal showbiz friend Jonathan Mayor a lift to the gig and I was just going to watch, as it happened one of the acts had got stuck on a train that hadn't moved for three hours so I was asked to be the last minute replacement. Sometimes when Jonathan and I get put on a bill together, if I've to follow him my act suffers a bit, I don't know why, maybe some audiences aren't prepared to have two large homosexuals wearing lots of makeup and strange clothes on the same bill. This was one of those cases. I think it was something to do with not switching gears from the earlier gig and just going for it, offending most of the audience in the process. Though I think that if I was to do that again I'd know how to deal with it better.

Meanwhile, back at the gig Lyn's saying to me "Dude, they're going to hate you!" to which my response was "Yep, it'll be fine though!" I was on just before Sean Percival who was headlining, and the audience were quite subdued, I got to see Iszi Lawrence for the first time and I really like her work she was ace. But then I had to go on, in my biker boots and PVC trousers it was difficult to sneak round to the best place to get on stage. I don't know if you've ever tried to sneak in PVC trousers, if you watch the film Razor Blade Smile, it's not possible, hence the truely descerning Vampire wouldn't wear leather or PVC, also they'd learn how to speak with the big teeth, aside from that it's a cracking movie.

Anyway my name was called and I walked out the microphone and could feel the tension in the room, they'd taken against me before I'd opened my mouth. But this game's all about tension and release, and my opening line managed to break the tension, by the time I'd got to what the Lovely Mr Bennet who owns this site describes as my first "Sapphic double-entendre" there was the first belly laugh. Ken Dodd is right about that, once you've got your first belly laugh out of them they're yours and it takes quite some effort to lose them after that. The audience were lovely and really went with everything right up to the end when I thought I'd got them on side enough to do one of my favourite stories, which is about the darkest thing I've ever written, and true, and I learned a valuable lesson, don't leave on a story about a successful suicide, after a couple more one liners and acknowledging that I'd offended them they were back on side and I got a lovely response when I left the stage.

Outside having a cigarette in the interval a couple of the audience members said "Aw we can't talk about you now." So I sarted fake bitching about myself, "She's not really a lesbian, it's just for comedy effect." and stuff like that, they didn't join in, if anything I think they took it as a show of a lack of self esteem.

After the show the journey home was punctuated, just before midnight of Lyn's observation, which is universally true that the second you split up with someone every song on the radio that you listen to becomes a pointed reference to you, she said this as James Blunt, You're beautiful was on the radio. And I know lots of people have said it before but it's true when you're in that mindset it does speak to you like that and it can be anything, the hokey cokey "[sobbing] Michelle used to put her left arm in! [cries uncontrolably] I put forward this theory too, and said I'd make it relevant to the next song and my ex. The next song just happened to be Norah Jones with Don't know why I didn't come... [insert the punchline here] From then on in after midnight Heart FM played suicide watch with pointed songs about broken hearts and lost love.

Thursday

This morning I was woken by my mum calling having got back from France where her and my dad have been since the beginning of January trying to get their house sorted so that as soon as this place is sold they can move there. Apparently the lovely Lesbian couple who came and had a look round the other week were interested in buying the house. I guessing it didn't have anything to do with me having just woken up when they called round, from thinking I looked a little bi like Liv Tyler the previous night, at that time on a Saturday morning there was no denying I looked more like Steven Tyler, but I rushed round tidying up littel bits and pieces repeating "My mum'll murder me." It was only as they were leaving I realised that the top I'd been wearing was The same one I'd been wearing last week when a similar thing happened, only that time the estate agent didn't know there was anyone in the house and screamed as she went into my room to find me asleep there. The top I'd slept in was slightly see through, and with no bra on, at least I think I entertainedboth couples who came to see the house.

it was a day of mixed emotions really, I went out for a little dander with my ex as she went to buy some stuff from the butchers and Kwik Save, and when we got home we made a fry up, her girlfriend won't leave her room when I'm in the house, and I tried to chat with my ex, but it felt a little like pulling teeth, when I mentioned this, the events of a couple of weeks earlier were discussed and it upset me to realise that that was definately it. What I'd done was not only unforgivable but that it'd meant that the only positive thing I still got from our relationship, someone to talk to about stuff, had gone. Realising this upset me and I cried a bit, then got told off for being selfish, as if I was doing it to upset her. I think she thinks that I cry all the time, I don't. It's only when I'm with her, or when I talk to her on the phone. Relationships don't work when they're unbalanced, and realising that she never cared for me even half as much as I cared for her is one of those things that really hurts still. But there's nothing I can do to alter that. And that's how friendships end, without fanfare, without the big blow out, it's the slow realisation that you no longer have anything to offer each other.

I needed to be with Dug, he's always there for me and he's always got something to say or do that'll pick me up, so I headed over to his on the way to Liverpool and we talked about the gigs we'd had the previous night, he'd been to a lovely gig in York the previous night, where as is traditional he'd stormed it from start to finish and the promoter had asked him back to headline. In under 30 gigs he's managed to get paid 20's in various different places, The holy grail for open spots. I can't wait to see how he develops as time goes on. So after a quick cup of tea and a chat I was back on form. Listening to the Chicago Soundtrack in the car on the way, and singing along put my mind back into the place it needed to be.

About a year ago I watched the film, I'd heard all the songs before but never really been interested in watching it, not a big fan of Catherine Zeta Jones nor of Richard Gere, but it was late at night and it was the only thing on Sky Movies. There was a line that stuck with me from watching it that I now realise works as an affirmation. In fact it was upon repeating this line to Jonathan Mayor that got him to give me a book on affirmations, and it was this book that changed the way I look at the whole world, and which has since November made my life that much better and my consistency when gigging that much better. The line in the show seemed to sum up my feelings about how you should approach going on stage and it's this: "I'm a star and that audience loves me, and I love them, and they love me for loving them and I love them for loving me, and we love eachother, and that's because none of us got enough love in our childhoods, and that's showbiz. Kid."

Before I knew it my Sat Nav had guided me to my destination, cutting out about 45 minutes of getting lost in the city centre and the usual stress and considering phoning the venue to say "I'm lost, I'm not coming in, I'm just going home!"

Lots of comics say that they hate playing Liverpool, there's a feeling that whilst other towns and cities are cool with you taking the piss they're not, and as much as every town and city in the country is parochial and hates the town down the road, Liverpool seems to hate them even more. Every time I've played Liverpool before I've always got a bit of a muted response, I've never really died, I've just not had that big response that I've managed to get in other places.

I think that before Thursday night I've never had the confidence to actually break away from my ususal set to try out some geographically based material. But tonight I was going to do that, tonight I was going to address where I was, that my mum is from Liverpool, and a couple of other things about the place. As it happened it worked really well. I love playing to big audiences, and though it was a quiet Thursday night with about 140 people in they really went with it, loads of applause breaks and in the end I only managed to get through about 6 minutes of material in the 10 minutes I was on stage.

It was how I imagine playing a club in the US must be, I've spoken to a number of comics from the states about the differences in audience. I was told apparently the MCs in the US don't get the audiences to cheer and applaud, they don't get someone to be cheerleader, none of that stuff they just say the name of the act and the audience go wild.

One act asked me why it was comperes in this country do that, the response is simple "If they don't, no one will applaud. Over here there's the attitude with some audiences of 'OK, make me laugh dick head, I bet you're not funny.' Whereas in the states they're impressed and expect you to be good when you go on stage."

The reason for the comparison with Liverpool is that I've watched a great deal of wrestling, in terms of entertainment and working with a live audience I think it's the closest thing to stand-up comedy, you build up the audience and then take them down, you take them on a journey, tell them a story and then build towards the set piece finalé. And the reason for making this comparison with Liverpool is seeing that when the wrestlers mention the town that they're in there's a huge pop from the audience, and it kind of felt like that in Liverpool, a town with such a huge sense of civic pride. When I mentioned Liverpool there was a cheer, when I mentioned that they'd got capital of culture there was another cheer, when I mentioned the Beatles there was a round of applause, and when I mentioned the women walking the streets in their pyjamas they loved it. They booed when I mentioned Manchester and it was like pantomime. It's true that the more love and attention an audience gives you the more you can work off it, and this was one of my favourite gigs so far this year.

Out in the bar at the interval it was lovely too, though there's the thing that I always get awkward about a group of girls came over to talk to me telling me how much they'd enjoyed the show, saying "I normally hate female comics but you were brilliant. That's a compliment." They wanted me to go with them to a club afterwards, but I said no. They also did that thing of saying how they'd not liked one of the other acts, conspiratorially as if I had to agree with them, I just told them that I'd not seen them as I was getting ready. I never know how to react to this, even if I'm not a big fan of their work I like to stick up for them, as anyone who gets up on that stage deserves respect for doing that. Though if they keep on going and stinking up the place without learning how to get a little bit better my patience does wear a little thin.

After the break I sat at the back on my own watching the Headliner Reginald D. Hunter, who I'd only ever seen do a short spot at Maxwell's Full Mooners in Edinburgh. I'd not met Reg before that, and my friend Matt Reed had said to me, "I don't care what your persuasion is, when he talks to you you'll just melt." Before telling me a story about how he'd made Danny Deegan giggle like a school girl, and how he's said to Matt "you're cooler than the other side of the pillow." and made him blush. Both of these guys are straight, as is Reg, and I thought this must be bollocks, then that night in Edinburgh I got introduced to him and his opening line in his Atlanta drawl was "wow girl, you've got the kind of voice, you could say anything and I'd believe you." cue blushes and an "aw thanks", he'd managed to take the thing I'm most paranoid about, my voice, and make it into a positive.

After he'd left the stage I went to say hi to him and he was a smooth as ever, and we had a chat about stuff I asked him how his show was going, apparently it's not started on tour yet, and we just talked about stuff, I told him about how I keep on managing to get into arguments and fights and he said "you know, some people have this energy about them, something that other people find confusing, and they don't know what to do with it, and I guess you just take them back to that school age 'I don't know what to do with this, I think I'll hit it.'"

Brendan Reilly, who'd been compereing walked me back to my car as we chatted about the night and he gave me some positive feed back and was really encouraging, saying that since he'd last seen me he felt like I'd come on a few steps and was ready for the gigs I've been mistakenly thinking I was ready for for the last year or so.

The day ended great getting home late and climbing into bed I knew everything was going to be alright.

Friday

I wake up at about 1pm, that sort of slow wakign up where you doze and decide that you need more sleep, but have too much, this isn't helped by the fact I still can't sleep on my left hand side due to the torn muscle I got nearly a month ago now. I eventually get up and head down stairs a little groggy but ready to face the day. after a cup of tea and a cigarette, realising that there's only my Ex and her girlfriend in the house, which means they won't be out of bed until dehydration means that they need something to drink so they don't stick together forever drives them out of there I decide to pack up my stuff and get out of there for the weekend. As I'm doing so my flatmate Ciaran comes home, so whilst I'm picking up stuff I walk through the lounge and say "Hi" to which he doesn't respond. He's not spoken to me since the second week of January, apparently I intimidate him. That I don't mind, intimidating people is good, it's scaring people that's bad, at least if you intimidate them they respect you. Anyway I've apologised for shouting at him, but in my defence he is a lazy bastard.

Before I leave I have a shower and as I'm doing so realise that because of not remembering to moisturise for the last week or so, due to my boob job, I've started to get stretch marks. Turns out I was right when I got those topless photos done, that was the best I'm ever going to look. after that I start gathering my stuff together and get dressed.

I pack the stuff into the car and head on down to the university where I was supposed to do my blog, I got as far as the petrol station and decided to fill up the car, as I paid on my card I realised I didn't have any cash to pay for my library fines that I'd have to pay before the university would let me take out any more books.

I go to the cash point and check my balance, I'm about £500 shorter than I thought I was which nearly sends me off into a panic. I keep calm repeating "my prosperity is growing" and "Money flows through my life in ever greater abundance." and that works, right up until I go and get into my car and put my foot down on the clutch and there's no give in the pedal. Nothing.

I get out and check under the bonnet. Like that's going to help, I'm useless with cars, beyond colour and what it looks like I've no idea. I head into the shop to tell them that my car's broken down and the lovely old guy behind the counter says "what's up with it?" I say "The clutch has gone." he says "here, I'll check." we then walk to the car and he gets in and tries it. "The clutch has gone." He tells me as if I'd gone in whimpering "The magic's not working in the horseless carriage!"

I try to call my mum, no answer, my dad's mobile is switched off as usual "Saving the battery". I call my sister, she doesn't know where they are. I realise that there's a booklet with breakdown recovery back at the house, so I walk for 10 minutes in the rain back there, find it, call them and then head back out to the garage.

All the while I'm repeating "I'm perfectly adequate for any situation the unverse throws at me." but slightly thinking that it's time to write off the day "This is an old thought, there is no place for this anymore. The universe provides for me in every eventuality. My prosperity is growing."

As I get to the garage my mobile starts to ring and it's someone from Trent FM, apparently there aren't enough entrants for their competition to win £1,000 so I've got a buy through to the final. my prosperity is growing about two minutes later the guy with the tow truck turns up and has a look at the car. "you're clutch hasn't gone, nor has the cable snapped, the pin that holds it to the foot pedal's come lose." the universe provides for me in every eventuallity. He mends it with a cable tie and tells me that it should be under warranty from Ford and that it should cost nothing to get it mended properly when I get to the nearest ford garage.

I'm three hours behind on the day and so I just get the books, pay the fine and head off to Dug's, we were going to go over some writing but before we did that we needed some milk. While we were out we got a pizza from Sommerfield, after that for some reason we both fell asleep.

I woke up at 8, just in time for a repeat of Dr Who, The Girl in the Fireplace, which was my second favourite episode from the last series, after Love and Monsters, which is apparently a contentious thing to say infront of most Who fans. I just love the Line "One may tolerate a world of Demons for the sake of an Angel."

This however wasn't good as I was supposed to be meeting up with a very sexy lady-friend of mine at about 8:30, and on top of everything else that day I was just not int he mood, but a cup of tea later and I was ready to head on out.

We met in the loudest, tiniest sweatiest bar in Chorlton, rammed to the rafters with lesbians of all shapes and sizes. we chatted for hours and time just flew by, when the bar closed we headed up to the village and after realising that Vanilla was too loud and a bit threatening, you know a weird energy, we headed off to Coyotes. Stood at the endof the bar, me steadfastly refusing to dance my friend went off to the dancefloor, and of course a guy decided to talk to me.

He was a wee baldy man from the North of Ireland who looked at me and said "you know, you need to find a soul mate, then you're in heaven, and when you do don't let them go. Remember, you'll think they're too good to be true, or that you don't deserve them, but you do." It all got a bit David Lynch for my liking, firstly I thought he couldn't have existed. Then realised that he did, and pissed as he was he was lovely to talk to, and interesting, telling me about how he'd been kidnapped and tortured by the IRA in the early 1970s. I tried to hide the rosary beads attached to my purse when I bought a drink after that. He was like a magical little pixie, he gave advice then asked questions about what the most amazing thing we'd seen was, real soulful questions. Then having done that, gave us a horse racing tip, and buggered off.*

Later I headed back to my friend's house and it was beautiful, the kind of place I'd love to have one day, she also drives my dream car. These are the sort of things, along with her having a proper job and actually being really really lovely that make me think that my world is very different to hers and I feel uneasy about that. That however is all my problem and not hers.

Leaving there at 5 in the morning I smiled most of the way home. I'd had a great night salvaged form the crappy start that it'd had.

Tonight I get to meet up with my friends Carrie and Cary who I've not seen for too long, and then roll on tomorrow and the final of the Midlands Comedian of the year competition in Leicester. my prosperity is growing

As I finished my set the other night in Liverpool; Love is the thing that will save us all.

I love you all with all my heart.

*The horse came third.

By yesterday it'd been five days since I had a gig, and I started to get the jitters, Like Dug keeps telling me "This engine runs on love and admiration" and looking at the size of him, this is true, there can't possibly be anything else in there, except maybe piss and vinegar. I'm sure he's made of the same stuff as old ladies that are indestructable.

Many moons ago, when we both used to work in Putney at the Whittard t-bar, I was manager, he was my assistant, we used to have several old women who used to come in on a daily basis, and they'd get to know us, and then over time they'd tell us stories about the blitz, and what they'd been up to with American GIs, and lost husbands who'd given their lives to save them. These were the stories you want to hear. My Grandad's weren't the kind of stories you wanted to hear, they were good but, someone whose husband has given their life for them to live has an operatic quality and a fantastic story arc, whereas my grandad was still fighting the japanese every time he went to sleep, in fact, whenever my auntie Pat had a new boyfriend the family would play a trick on them. They'd get told to go and wake my grandad for tea.

I don't believe in teh 21 years that I knew him that I ever saw him eat, he seemed to survive off cups of sugary tea which he'd never take the tea bag out of, and his other favourite form of sustainance, bottle after bottle of Newcastle Brown. He'd been Ill since the end of the 1960's when, legend has it he was told that he had six months to live. Throughout the 1980's and 1990's he carried on though looking frailer and frailer, but with an emmense level of physical strength.

So every new beau for my Auntie Pat would come round and gett told to wake my grandad, and everyone would do it, not realising that when the family did it they'd do it wiht a long handled broom as he'd go from asleep, to jumping up and straight into the fight. I miss him now, and one of only three regrets I hold onto is that he never lived long enough to see me happy, he died before I came out to my family, and knowing the kind and gentle old guy that he was I'm sure he'd have been happy for me, and I hope that he'd be proud of me and what I'm doing now.

Yesterday I woke up quite happy and ready to take on the world, then I wrote about the previous day, quit dark and introspective and that was enough to make the day a write off, well that and the Phone call I made to my ex.

I'm off to a gig in Gloucester this evening and I'm looking forward to it, even though I'm trying to figure out a way of altering a joke slightly so as not to offend the locals. Anyway because of this gig meaning I'll have to set off fairly early, plus that with all the weather changes recently my knees and ankles are really giving me trouble. For the last week I've had difficulty getting up and down stairs. So I phoned Sarah to let her know that I wouldn't be able to represent the LGBT society at the university charity sports day.

I only agreed to do it because it was for charity, anyone who knows me knows I abhor sport, I don't mind exercise, I think I was the only one at school who quite liked cross country, probably what caused the messed up knees and ankles I'm thinking. Mind you I think I was the only one in my family who did enjoy cross country.

My dad tells a story about how at school he got into trouble, I think he actually got expelled for this, just before he was supposed to do his O-levels, it didn't matter he'd already got an apprenticeship as a blacksmith. If you can picture it, my dad is exactly like hagrid from the Harry Potter books only older with a big white beard these days, as I say on stage he looks like a cross between Father Christmas and Karl Marx, back in the day he didn't look like this, but like all the men in his family they seemed to be built for not realising their own strength and breaking things.

Anyway, at school he was supposed to be doing cross country running in games, but decided "Fuck that!" and nipped off and hid and smoked some cigarettes, timing it so that he could rejoin the main body of the group just as they were nearing the finishing line. The perfect crime, I used this technique years later with more success than my dad did at highschool when we went off orienteering up at Rivington Pike with school, I wrote down all the symbols from all the checkpoints, meaning that whilst everyone else was running around making fools of themselves myself and Adam Waldron sat behind rivington barn smoking.

See the way that we managed to do it better than my dad, was that we were clever enough to make sure that we got back just as everyone else was. My dad failed this and got back about 3 minutes before the first person did. As a result he was entered into the regional finals, and there's no where to hide on an oval track, whilst they're all there suited up and smelling of wintergreen, my dad in his hobnailed boots nearly passed out after the first lap.

Running wasn't for him, Hiking however was. My favourite of his Hiking stories invilved his best friend growing up a guy called Baz, who was constantly getting into trouble and having stupid ideas, on one occasion he'd bought a motorcycle helmet from a police auction, and claiming that it was the best thing got my dad to hit him across the head whilst he was wearing it with a fire poker. It laid him out. The hiking story was that they were walking through the country side and said "I just need a shit." and went to vault over a stone wall which was 3 feet high on the side they were on, it was a good 12 feet down on the other side though.

So anyway I'd phoned Sarah to tell her I couldn't do it, and that I'd been trying to get in touch with her for days, she wasn't happy, and after the last time I'd angered her, I wasn't keen to make things in the house where I've been trying not to live for the last three weeks any worse and so I agreed to turn up and try.

I was supposed to be on the "Lesbian rugby team", how that's different from the "Women's Rubgby team" I don't know, except that they apparently are afraid to join the LGBT society incase anyone thinks they're gay. I don't get that, short of being nose deep in another girl 24 hours a day I don't know how they could make it more obvious that any of them are gay. But that's their choice.

Anyway on top of that I was supposed to be on the dance team, again, I think I'm the origin of the phrase "Dances like a lesbian" Vince Atta after seeing me bust some moves on the dance floor of the frog in an attempt to impress some girl I was talking to came up to me afterwards and said "Wow, you don't half dance like a straight white boy."

Ok so we weren't going to win the competition, but you know I'm prepared to give it a try.

I say I was supposed to be on these teams, because when I got home, having thought I'd left my mobile phone charger here rather than at my parent's where I've been for the last couple of weeks on and off, and when I got here found out I couldn't find it, only to discover it'd been in the bag in the back of my car all the time. I'm useless even for a comedian. Anyway, when I switched it on there where 20 texts from the last three days, the last one of which said "Sports day is cancelled tomorrow." So here I am stuck in a house I don't want to be in when I could have been away for the week. Arse.

The thing was, after writing yesterdays downbeat blog I was a little downbeat, then talking to Sarah left me crying. So it was back to listening to my positive thinking CD and hoping it didn't lead me into a fight again like last time.

Last night was good though, Britain's Favourite Funnyman(tm) Michael J Dolan was sat in Solomon Grundy's in Withington doing some writing, so after dropping Dug "Space Mountain" Shelmerdine off in town to catch a tram to Bury on his way off to York for a gig, I headed on down there.

We Chatted for a bit about stuff, and I fell in love. There's a bunch of photos on the wall in there with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life in them looking fabulous. But we were talking about my show that I've started writing. and ended up on our usual subject about Exes, and the realisation that holding on to feelings for them is stupid. Why wouldn't they be into us? And the realisation that it's because they're idiots. And it's pointless still holding on for an idiot to realise that they're being stupid.

Bar XS was quite quiet last night, but the line up was in the main excellent, Robin Ince turned up to try out some new stuff as he was supporting Ricky Gervais up the road in a 6,000 seater venue. I asked him how different it was playing to a crowd that big, he said that Martin Bigpig had once told him that once you've played to 1,500 anything bigger than that doesn't feel any different, and that Martin was right.

Sean Moran did a set in a run through for this Saturday's Leicester Mercury Comedian of the year competition, Sean's a great act and I wish him all the luck in the world on Sunday.

Kevin Precious and Neil McFarlaine were both on top form and last minute replacement headliner Mick Ferry was, as always nothing short of excellent.

Today feels a lot better, though I'm sat in my exes room writing this whilst she's gone off with her girlfriend to get her haircut, if she comes back with the "Lesbian Hitler" like I've got, stern words will be had. The kids in the alley at the back are having half term fun by skimming roof slates at each other in possibly the most dangerous game of dodgeball I've ever seen and tonight I've got company on my road trip to Gloucester. My friend Lyn's coming with me, she's ace and we thought that it'd be better to hang out on Valentine's day as the two sad singletons that we are, combining bitterness for those in couples. She did say she'd break my legs if I didn't get her flowers, and she used to be in the Army. Well the Irish army, so if I don't there's more chance of her putting out a house fire or emptying my bins than any real threat to my life.*

the sun's shining, I'm getting there slowly, and I've got the feeling that everything's going to be alright.

I love you all with all my heart.

*For the hard of thinking, that's a joke.

I wish I was better in social situations, sometimes I can be, but mainly I'm just flailing around in deep water when it comes to nights out. Some times I can just bang on about whatever, and lead conversation and be charming and exuberant and just go for it, the life and sould of the party. Other times, even my inner vioce decideds that it's not interested in what I've got to say "No, I've listened to you, you're too hard to talk to." And I end up trying to think of things to say that don't relate to me in some way. But it's difficult.

I don't really like talking about myself too much in social situations, after five years of psychiatric evaluation, and the conversations that flow from talking to all sorts of people when they see my act, or those who I just become friends with often move onto some of the weirder aspects of my life, and at first it's flattering, but it soon bores me. The other thing that happens quite a lot is that I'll try and move the conversation on, and they'll notice and say "well you brought it up!" when it was actually them that did. I'm accutely aware of trying to make sure I don't sound like the whole world is all about me. spending the first ten years of your life with your older siblings telling you to "shut up and stop boring people" will do that to you.

When I was a little kid I could memorise whole scripts from TV shows having just seen them once. My mum used to find it amazing that I could recount the whole "Baby eating bishop of Bath and Wells, who'd drown babies at the Christening and then eat them in the vestry afterwards" script from Blackadder II, or any episode of the Young Ones, or my favourite as a kid of the Marx Brothers in Duck Soup. On top of that I was one of these kids who learned to read before I went to school and once I did I just read anything and everything, just a thirst for knowledge about anything. As a kid I could just memorise facts like that a fly jumps backwards when it takes off, and that the whole population of the world could fit shoulder to shoulder onto the Isle of white. At night to get off to sleep I'd figure out how far away planets and stars were from earth based on the speed of light being constant at 185,000,000 K/ps/ps and based on light from the sun taking 8.2 minutes to reach earth.

as a result of this I was a precocious little brat with the knowledge of an adult and the self confidence of a child. No wonder my sister and brother used to call me boring all the time. I still wish that I'd not bothered to learn these things, and I'd trade them for social skills any day of the week.

But that it seems is the one thing I can't learn, and last night I found myself in that situation, wanting to be able to talk and have fun and get into scrapes, but they didn't happen. I need that human contact, like that puppy that's been stuck in the house all day while you've been to work, when you come home it gets so excited it doesn't know what to do and in leiu of an appropriate response just pees itself.

I'd like to state that I don't pee myself with excitement. About the closest I've come was when Dug was telling me about how he used to scare his ex-girlfriend (coincidentally also my ex-girlfriend) so that she'd scream and then burst into tears, he told me of a couple of episodes where he was hiding outside the living room looking in through a window and waited for her to notice him. but the line "It was like the time I hid in my mum's airing cupboard and jumped out at her and she nearly fell down the stairs." That got me laughing so hard that I did squirt out a little pee.

Anyway after yesterday being couped up in the house, I started writing when I got up and then before I knew it I only had time to have a quick shower and then get going out. Without the cat here to break my concentration my mind had got stuck in the place where I was just able to interact using the computer. So meeting up with Dug and Dolan for a cup of tea meant my interaction was a bit stilted, plus because of this my mind was going faster than my mouth could keep up so my stammer came back a bit, but I was amongst friends so it didn't matter really.

Then we went down to XS to see Josie Long do her show Supported by Isy Suttie, who was ace, and who I don't think I've seen before, though later on I think I realised I either think I've seen her before or I saw her when I used to drink, either way it's the first time I've seen her and remembered it, and Mathew Crosby who was also ace, and shockingly I don't remember who the third support act was but he was great and the play he did was brilliantly realised.

This is why I don't do reviews.

Anyway we got down there, and having seen most of the people in the last couple of days I was at a loss for something to talk about, when Katie Mulgrew and Vicks turned up we had a bit of a chat, Apparently Katie's been being her dad's agent for the week and is currently setting up his myspace page, as soon as it's ready he'll be in my top friends, Jimmy Cricket was one of my comedy heroes when I was a kid, and the first jokes I used to try and pass off as my own in the playground were his, I even had "L" and "R" written on my wellies when I was bout three years old. I got to see him perform last year at the Frog at Frankie Doodle's farewell party as he left to become a priest. Watching Jimmy perform was a master class, and afterwards I did the really geeky thing of going and getting his CD from my car and getting him to sign it. You're not supposed to do that when it's your friend's dad I know, but it was the only time I've done anything like that. What made it better was that whilst I was talking to him about it and doing the sad "I'm your biggest fan!" behaviour two girls came over and asked if I was performing at the Frog at any point soon and he said as they left "are they fans of yours?" I've not felt that cool since I was back stage at Glastonbury with a coule of friends who are huge fans of Stewart Lee, we were stood at the bar and Stewart walked in and went to get served behind me and their faces kind of froze and then they smiled and whispered "Stewart Lee's right behind you." I turned round and said "Hi Stewart, we met in Manchester, I'm Beth." and he said "Oh yeah, hi Beth, I remember you, how're you doing?" and I got to introduce my friends to someone they were star struck by.

To this day I still get star struck by people, not necessarily people who are big stars, just people who I really admire, and who I've been interested in for years, I forget that other people aren't and mostly don't care. I think that's how I ended up with a reputation of being a name dropper. I don't mean to, I just get really excited when I meet someone who I've seen on TV, or heard about before and get to either work with or meet in a social situation, and so I tend to tell people about it.

It was being star struck that caused the embarrassing situation with Josie the first time I met her. And that combined with my almost autistic memory for what I've seen on television, nearly led to another of those "I'm not really a stalker!" moments.

It was Mathew's birthday so after the show we went down to Al Nawaz for a Curry, with the guys who were on, and some of their families and friends who live in Manchester, and Dan Nightingale who's a friend of Josie's and a guy who's got an unbelievable talent and is also a friend of mine. But we were talking about opening lines for our sets that we used to use when we first started, and Josie told hers, and in my head I had to stifle the desire to say "you used that in your final that the BBC new comedy competition." Because I know that saying things like that lead to everyone going silent and staring at me.

After the meal I bid them goodbye and offered them a lift back to where they were staying, but there were too many of them. and I was about to walk back to my car and asked one of the girls we were with, Roxie, who was going back to Fallowfield if she wanted a lift. we had a nice chat on the way back and I headed off home.

Getting used to getting up in the early afternoon and climbing into bed at 4 in the morning, driving home at 1:30 seemed far too early to be going home on my own. It's that time of day that's the worst, that's when being bad at social interaction coupled with a need for human contact shows up at its most stark.

I think that's why I fall in love completely and utterly almost instantly. I want that contact, I want someone to worry where I am, I want someone to send a text to if I'm staying out late, I want someone to share a bed with at the end of the night. My whole life I feel like I've never belonged anywhere, and deep down I just want to belong to someone.

Oh well, Tomorrow's Valentine's day, maybe the universe will provide.

A bit more downbeat and introspective today, but tomorrow...

I love you all with all my heart.

As my university has decided foolishly, I think, that as the top up fees that have effected universities this year mean that the average student is paying £4,000 a year for their education, they've decided that if they're paying that much money then they should get the most education out of it that they can. That they "Don't pay that much to have a reading week in the middle" on some assumption that it's value for money. I however put forward the argument that I'm not paying £4,000 a year for my education not to get the best chance I can and a week off in order to get my work done seems appropriate.

They didn't reply to my letter.

Anyway instead it's "Assignment tutorial" week as arranged by every lecturer on campus, which is essentially a week off. Though last term they messed it up and half had it on one week and the other half had it on the next week.

The reason I'm saying this is that I spent yesterday in a state of worry about whether my Sexuality and Culture Lecture had been cancelled today, because I thought I had my presentation to do today and when I woke up yesterday I realised I'd not done any of it and there still was a chance that it might be still on.

Now I'm faily useless when it comes to remembering some things, I've got a geat memory in general, bordering on the autistic for a number of things, but when I comes to getting my mobile phone charger I can't remember to do it ever. So I'm sat at my parent's house up on the moors outside Preston and Blackburn, with internet access but none of my phone numbers.

well I sat and worried about it for a minute, then did some writing, then sort of forced it to the back of my mind, because if i did that it'll go away, we all know how this works. Anyway 24 hours later and technically I should just be getting to the end of my presentation if I'm wrong. However I'm fairly sure it'll be next week.

Eventually being sat in the house was weighing on me. My cat's over at my sister's house being tormented by her 3 year-old twins. So I'm alone in a big old house on the moors and with an over active imagination like mine that becomes terrifying when it goes dark.

The night before last I went to settle down and watch Jerry Springer: The Opera, it was umming and ahh ing between that and Monster House, which one of my friends had lent me on a DVD that he'd recorded off the telly the other day, but we were concerned that the magic in the DVD might not work with the magic in my DVD Player. There's a lot of uncompatible magic out there at the moment, Michael J Dolan Britain's Favourite Funnyman(tm), maintains that it's that in an effort to bring down prices a lot of companies are bringing in cheaper wizards from Eastern Europe, and that's what's led to this strange Magic incompatibility in recent times. I'm fairly sure that he's on the money.

But that's not what I was talking about, I was about to settle down and watch so