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?

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Comment from: Vince Atta [Visitor]

I have so little memory of that night & it all came back to me in a joyous flood. I forgot about the 'no.. he is handsome' bit!
A bizzare & hilarious night!

Permalink 05/03/07 @ 15:47

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