It seems it's only in the wee small hours when I've got to be up early I get to write on this blog anymore, but that's because for the last week or so I've had to get up early, well early for me. Technically on Sunday I got up at 11:30, but that was after ending up in poptastic dancing like a twat to Dolly Parton Remixes and the Scissor Sisters, before trying to stop a friend from jamming her fingers up the noses of complete strangers, falling out of a tree she'd climbed and dragging her out of the way of an oncoming bus.

And what did she learn from this night? Apparrently "Don't try and stick your fingers up a hookers nose unless you've given her the money first." It's good to see that hanging out with me she's learned something.

It was my friend Emma's birthday on Saturday hence the trip out to poptastic, I'd already had a full day having to get up after only 4 hours sleep to head off to Oldham for the Pride festival with Jonathan Mayor and Rosie Lugosi.

As it was their first parade I put in the effort, resplendant in black rubber trousers a fringed leather jacket and biker boots. I looked less of a twat than I sound there. But we were in the front of the parade, though by the time I'd got to where we were supposed to be meeting up I'd already lost Jonathan and Rosie and was trying to get across town without being killed (just my regular paranoia at play, then today I heard that some poor guy had been set upon in Oldham by the news staple "gang of youths" at around that time, the guy got a fractured skull, and my thoughts are with him) Anyway I managed to make it just in time for us getting ready for the procession through the town, I was right at the front, just behind Jonathan and Rosie and next to the Bishop of Bournemouth.

It was a short parade met with a few smiles and people waving, groups of people staring trying to figure out what the hell was going on and two guys outside McDonalds looking really angry. Having taken part in Manchester's parade last year it was an altogether smaller affair but no less important. It's easy enough living in Manchester (which I don't but I spend that much time there that I might as well) with the Gay village and the big pride parade and the cosmopolitain attitude to be a little sneery of smaller towns and think that the world is like the bubble we create, but to step outside that to a town just 10 minutes up the road, where they have one gay bar and that this is the first time they've ever had a parade. It means something.

When we got to the venue where they were holding the Pride festival it was lovely and the sun came out. Not what I was planning as I burn really easily and spending a couple of hours out there, even though the sun was only out briefly was enough for me to get sunburned.

I psyched myself up for my gig though, I was only doing a very short set and as the crowd outside dispursed after Manchester's Lesbian and Gay Choir had finished performing there weren't that many people down at the front ready for me. Outside, in the daytime, with a quickly dispersing audience and those who stayed at the front had an average age of 7. Then a quarter of them disappeared when he got scared by a wasp.

Suddenly I'm thinking through my stuff for anything I can do in front of a bunch of kids, there's very little. But I do it anyway and have fun with it even though no one is listening. those who are there are smiling, and I manage to get two laughs out of them so under those conditions I consider it a win.

Shortly after that I head off to get some food, as the only stand-up performing during the day, and essentially dying on my arse I know I'll have to do a lot of explaining to other artists. If anything goes wrong for them they can usually cover it, it's only with stand-up that your failure becomes so obvious to everyone. And I do. I explain to several members of the choir why my stuff didn't work, but I know from at least 100 other occasions where I've died on my arse that no one ever hears the reason, they just hear you trying to find an excuse because nothing you say or do is ever funny. It's an important lesson, no on the day I wasn't funny. But you know, you move on. Or at least you try. I left the greenroom to head back out to the stage feeling a bit better about myself thinking I'd just be able to forget about the gig and concentrate on the next one and the fun I was going to have that evening. Right up until I bumped into Jonathan and he smiled and said "I told you you shouldn't have done that material first." Naturally I did what anyone does in that situation and burst into tears. I don't even know why, well I do, it was exactly the wrong time to say something like that and I know he didn't mean it the way it sounded, it's my slightly autistic personality. I'd done exactly what he'd said and still died on my arse and then he'd told me I'd not listened to him, it was a combination of a lot of things but a big chunk was the injustice.

For other examples of that look back through these blogs and look at the bit about why I won't go into the Limelight in Crewe, even though it's about the only bar in the whole town I live in that's worth visiting because of a picture round in the pub quiz where the answer was "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and I got a point deducted because according to the other team "It's 'Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark' are you stupid or something!"

I'll have to stop talking about that now it's getting me angry again.

Anyway after Abba-mania had been on, and the Amazonian Blonde wigged one had managed to play on inspite of being attacked by a wasp, the show drew ot an end and it was time to head back, after a minor incident with me managing to lose my car keys yet again we ended up heading off to Sheffield to the Memorial Hall for the Last Laugh. Jonathan was compereing and it was great as I got to hang out with Sarah Millican, who's a good friend but someone I don't get to see often enough, and Simon Bligh who I've not seen for ages.

The gig was fine though Jonathan freaked out a little at the beginning but I did my boxing trainer thing of psyching him up to be in the perfect place for the gig, I was the Burgess Meridith's Micky Goldmill to his Rocky Balboa. and he did the job really well, the gig was lovely and then I headed back to Manchester, to Vanilla, and then to Poptastic before finally dropping people off and climbing into bed at 6, setting my alarm for 10:30 and drifing off to sleep.

Jonathan woke me eventually at 11:30 and after a berrocca a shower and some tea I headed over to Duncan Oakley's house for the run through to his first Edinburgh show the '68 Bumcrack Special, it's looking like a great show and I'm excited to be a part of it, and I don't get to hang out with Duncan enough so I'm really looking forward to it, and it's one of those things where it feels like now we've done a tech run it's starting to get real.

The fact that 48 hours from now I'll be in Edinburgh is also making it feel like it's time to start shitting it, but I've got some simple rules sorted out which I'll put in a post tomorrow before I head out to do the first run through of my 2008 Edinburgh Show "beth becomes her" which I'm doing in front of a group of selected non-comedy friends as they'll be able to give me better initial feedback on what they want from the story. One year before I'll hopefully be taking it to Edinburgh, I know few people this organised.

anyway it's late, I'm tired so I'll bid you all good night.

I love you all

BB xXx

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