Everyone @ Chortle

So there I am, naked on stage save for my black cowboy hat in front of 800 people for the last performance of Phil Nichol's show "The Naked Racist along with about 30 other people including Phil Kay and Duncan Oakley, when Barry Dodds came skipping over with a flower sticking out of his arse and said "I can see Wilky" Mike Wilkinson was sat on the front row looking slightly embarrassed at seeing a bunch of his friends dancing naked for the climax of the show.

The last two weeks of Edinburgh were a hard slog, with everything to work really hard for out of the way the nights got later as did the mornings. 6am was a usual bed time and 3-5pm was a usual morning wake up time. the festival starts to institutionalise you, comedians and actors, not used to such structure in their lives start to act weirdly. for a week I was wandering round needing to be told what to do, and that's how I ended up naked on stage.

I'd spent most of the month promising Mitch Benn that I'd go and see his music club show at the cow barn and hadn't managed to at all, as the last week of the festival drew near I realised I'd not seen many of the shows I really wanted to. this struck me when I saw Glenn's show for the second time, later that evening stood out in the Gilded Balloon's library bar (which is on the night before my last Blog) I bumped into Ed Byrne and his fiancée who I'd not seen since glastonbury, it was her who confused me with Hannah Gadsby, quoting a conversation that we'd apparently had where I'd apparently complained that people were confusing me with Ed. As I'm not good at socially awkward situations, either my own or putting someone else in them I played along as if I'd had the conversation with her, then adding "Yes it's either that or people confuse me iwht Hannah Gadsby, at which point her face changed as she realised what had gone on. Fortunately at that moment a couple of people interrupted and asked Claire to take a photo of them wiht Dara O'Briain, which she did, they then asked if they could take a photo of us with Dara. This was odd. shortly after that Ralf Little came over and got chatting with Glenn and I. It was really interesting talking to him about all sorts of stuff including the film he's doing wtih Kevin Spacey. He's also got a book that he's written for Shelter the homeless charity which can be found here http://www.thegoldengeneration.co.uk/ it's well worth checking out.

Anyway I was realising that I've not got enough time to do everything so I tried to get to see as much as I could on the last tuesday that I was there, so Tuesday became "Jew day" for at least the first half of the day, I went to watch Hammel on Trial which was fantastic, I've been a fan of Ed Hammel's work for ages and it was a pleasure to get to see him live, he liked my jacket and I blushed. Then I went to see Rebecca Drysdale who was very American in her approach to a one hour show but it was the sort of thing that I really love, and it was fantastic, plus I got to see a hot naked performer, whilst I was sat there thinking about how she must have felt doing that, and what her reasons were I was starting to think about how liberating it must have been to do that, without self conciousness and with artistic integrety.

After this I went over to see Ian Stone's show which was also fantastic (again this is why I don't do reviews!) after that I called Jew day a day and went to see Craig Campbell, Dean Haglund was in the audience and afterwards, he, Craig and I went to watch Tony Lee's Comedy hypnosis which made me laugh my arse off for ages, especially watching some guy think he was doing puppetry of the penis finishing with his "show stopper" whcih he called "The Creeping Hobo" which made me realise that everyone's subconcious has poetry to it.

as the last few days of the festival drew near I started hanging out with Nat Luursema who's a brilliant new comic, she came along with me to Ro Campbell's gig at the Phoenix on a couple of nights. It was a brilliant Free festival late night gig that was rammed with locals, so not like an Edinburgh festival gig at all. Every time I did it I got heckled and managed to work something out from it so it was really useful, on the second time I gigged there it all got a bit weird and frosty and the air felt like violence was about, a heckle turned into a discussion, and peace was only resumed when I jumped from the stage through the crowd to hug the Heckler and kiss him on the forehead. David Cameron would be proud. As I left the gig one of the hecklers was stood at the top of the stairs puking down them and in between her heaves she was saying "sorry". As I walked past her lighting a cigarette and heading off into the night I replied "don't worry about it, there's people paying £10 a ticket to watch that up in the city centre.". On the last night I played there I had to take on a father and son heckling team from Newcastle, I starteddealing with the father then had the son about five minutes into my set saying to the compere "will you go back on she's fucking shit." so I dealt with him by getting him to try and heckle me properly and not stopping picking on him until he had done or I'd proved my point. It was the point proving that won out.

so in between thes I was watching late night comedy, hanign out with friends and waiting for the shortlist to come in. That Jason Cook didn't make it to the short list with his show finally proved to me that competitions and awards really don't mean anything at all.

But anyway we're creeping closer to Friday night, Duncan's been asked to be the Naked Drummer in Phil's band, they're playing the Pleasance Grand which is an 800 seater. It's Friday night and I'm supposed to be going home the next day, which I'm not going to be able to do as I'm teching Duncan's show for the last time, but I've said I'll help out as I can. I've finally made it into Mitch's show and I'm waiting for it to start when I get a phone call from Duncan saying he needs 800 flyers over at Phil's show for the audience when they leave. SO I rush off over there.

As I walk in I ask if I can stay and watch, Dunc says he doesn't know, at which point Barry walks over and says "Oh no, you're not doing the naked dance too are you?"

Right up to that moment I'd not thought about it, I really wanted to see the show but I wasn't too sure about this, but in your life you're provided with opportunities and it's up to you to take them or not if you take them you'll never really regret them provided you don't get killed or permanently injured, and if there's no danger of that happening you really need to take the chance.

"Sure, let's fucking do this thing." So there I am, an hour later, dancing, I hate dancing, I won't do it in clubs incase people are watching me, dancing naked in front of the best part of 800 people totally unself concious free and exhilerated. After I come off stage I'm totally overcome with the emotion of what I've done, the magnitude of it hits me. How far I've travelled as a person.

7 years ago my girlfriend left me and I had a nervous breakdown, I'd spent most of my life hating myself and especially my body, I'd get changed in the dark and how horrible and alien my own body felt to me caused me to try and kill myself, that I came from there to here, to this moment this beautiful moment in the sun, in the spotlight free and unself-concious was too much for me.

I think I need to explain why I felt like I did for those who don't know, especially as it'll explain a lot of things and explain what my Show I'm writing right now is all about, the show I'm premiering on 29th October at the Manchester comedy festival and then taking to Edinburgh next year.

But that'll do for next time.

Until then I love you all

BB xXx

Simon Munnery's charming and attractive wife is not a Jew-hater.

One way sure-fire way to finish the Edinburgh Fringe in a good mood is by playing a sell-out crowd, and although Edinburgh itself didn't quite deliver that (see previous post), the Greenbelt Festival in Cheltenham certainly did. It was the most fun gig I've had all year - I did the solo Genesis show in front of 500 people, with another 500 queuing to get in, and then raced off to a late show on the same site for a 20min in front of somewhere up to 2000 people (I think it was more like 1000). Twas just what I needed.

It was an unusual mini taste of celebrity, just for a day - after doing that gig, you walk around site and people seem to know you. Then you go home and return to normality for another 364 days. It's a little unsettling. Also at the festival were Chas & Dave, Janey Lee Grace from Steve Wright's factoids, a great singer/songwriter called Cathy Burton, m'good friend and top bassist Steve Lawson, fine guitarist Kathyrn Williams, as well as many other excellent performers. Good line-up and a very chilled and fun festival.

I bought myself a Manga Bible there - one of the strangest books I must own now, but I'm racing through it and it's brilliant. The entire Bible, in Japanese comic-book style. Cos I know very little about the stories in the Bible, and feel I ought to know more, so it's a great way of very broadly going, "Okay - Joshua attacked lots of countries, Samson went a bit mental, Job had a bit of a hard time..."

And tomorrow I fly back up to Scotland, due to an administrative error in which my agent thought I was still in Edinburgh for the festival, so he booked me in for Glasgow Jongleurs. Ah well. It'll be a nice couple of days away, relaxing, sleeping, catching up at the cinema, and trying to stay alive among in a Glaswegian bearpit.

so am sleeping.

kissed a novelist the other night.

gotta do laundry

have a gig tomorrow.

but not gonna feel alive like i did with some 2 and a quarter hours a day of stage time while in edinburgh.

soon my sharpness will again be softness.

i wonder what i should eat.

So here's how my Fringe ended. Last show, and I hadn't signed the contract for the venue hire. This is because the venue had not delivered - aside from the road noise outside, the need to keep our show's decibels down because of a wanky guitarist next door who refused to use a microphone, and the uncomedyness of playing a 140-seater marquee in daylight at lunchtime... there was the real clincher that the box office staff were actually shrugging paying punters off. I had people come up to me in the street asking where the show was on, because they'd been to the venue and tried to buy a ticket, only to be told by Box Office Moron No.1 that they didn't know the show, and didn't know where it was on. Little did Box Office Moron No.1 know that I was in the tent about a metre away from them, setting up the show to perform to the dedicated 9 people that disregarded box office's dissuading words.

The only silver lining I can find to this cloud was that the punters were did have were wonderfully committed to the show. They had in many cases been to a cave first, then battled past box office telling them they'd never heard of the show, then being directed to a tent I wasn't in, then ultimately taking their seat in the marquee I was in. Well done them. That's dedication.

So this is why I hadn't signed the contract, in the hope of a reduction/discount in light of the inadequacy of venue staff and venue. The venue manager, who shall remain nameless, blockaded the venue entrance and, in front of the queuing audience (again, showing dedication in getting that far), declared that if we didn't sign to say that we'll pay him the full whack of the best part of a grand for his services, then he'd cancel our last show.

A dilemma, then. Does the show go on, and we pay for it? Or do we stand firm against paying the full amount, but forfeit the final show and send the audience home?

I chose the former. I paid about £60 per audience member for that last show to go ahead. They were nearly worth it. Well, I told them the above, so that they would hopefully give it their all, and they did.

Why did I do it? Well I wanted the run to end properly. It would have been a massive anticlimax to not do that last show, plus while I know that venue manager didn't really deliver, I'd like to think I have. Those who saw the show seemed to really enjoy it, and I did the very best I could given the circumstances. I was pleased with it. So while I'm happy that the venue manager may have bad words said about him on the grapevine, I didn't want my name to be mud for not paying him - I'm sure it wouldn't be, but at least I can say I did everything above board. If we weren't happy with the venue and their staff, I guess legally we should have stopped performing days before and just given up and gone home. So in that sense, he was right to not let us perform that last show unless we paid for it. I just wish he'd have listened to us and negotiated a little to give us a price that would reflect the half-arsed efforts of the venue resulting in lower ticket sales than I feel the show deserved.

Ah well, you live and learn. I shall compile a list of Things I've Learned At Edinburgh Festival This Year in a few days, and post it here. If you're ever planning to do a show in Edinburgh, I'd say it's required reading, because I learned a-plenty this year. Mainly about box office staff and IQs.

Had a massive moan about my show and told Manera and Lucy that I was going to do the show without the songs and props and just do an hour of stand up. I was that fed up. Manera pointed out that he wanted to see the sow and wanted to see the proper version. He then said he’d manage the door for me.

I am now going to wax lyrically about Manera more than I normally do. He made sure late comers didn’t interrupt punch lines and told women going to the toilet to be quiet and stopped anyone coming in after 20 minutes as It was pretty full and was one of the best shows I’d done. I could relax and do the show as it was intended. It went really well. People kept talking to me after, the collection was generous and it was a great way to finish the show.

Had a few beers with Greame Casey then Eric walked in and we all gassed till I got a cab to Lindsays. It was a good send off. We were rammed, all the acts did well. I wasn’t supposed to go on, but Manera insisted. I was a bit pissed and so was Ismo who was amazing. Andy White destroyed the first section and Andrew Roper closed brilliantly.

It was rammed. We must have turned away 40 people. Got loads of stroppy people complaining about not getting in, but they were FUCKING LATE! So had to man the door constantly. It was a fitting way to end the shows.

After show we drank till very late and James Sherwood brilliantly played the piano as we all sat around singing songs. This is what I love about Edinburgh and the last time I was in a similar situation James Sherwood was there as well. Good man. He really knows how to orgamise a knees up. At one point I got my blonde wig out and camped it up by singing Lola and Wuthering Heights. I think a few were a little shocked at my behaviour. I got a cab back but the gang went to the library bar. Bloody Exhausted.

The show went well, but I’m starting to lose the will to live with the interruptions. They’ve not got worse, but I’m seriously starting to resent the interruptions. A group arrived late and picked up a folded chairs and scraped them across the floor. I stopped in the middle of my show to point out that there were loads of spare seats on the other side of the room. This is getting more and more stupid and I'm getting more tetchy.

Contacted Phil Nicol to say I wanted to get my cock out in his show. I needed another break and to have a laugh. Got Okse to MC the late gig and made my way to the Pleasance Grand and watched from the sides. Ironically I sat there amazingly adoringly at how brilliant Phil is and what and amazing show the Naked Racist is. I also envied the fact that he didn’t have to put up with any shit, when he got nastily heckled and they had to call security who weren’t in the building to remove her.

Phil pointed out something very valid to this woman. Can’t you just sit down for an hour and watch a show? I was distraught. Some guy I didn’t know asked me if I was OK. I was clearly shocked at this. The show was brilliant. I’d seen it twice before and was loving it. Phil managed to pull it back so the audience was 110% behind him. As Jerry Seinfeld says in Comedian, “How big do you have to be?”.

There were about 50 of us naked on stage naked and it was brilliant fun. I’ve been naked in front of 700 people. I recognised people in the audience and they didn’t look me in the eye. No their eyes were somewhere else.

We were all supposed to go to the Underbely to do it again. Bumped into the Teaurn Doobie and a few others and was a bit pissed so went home by accident. Grabbed a kebab on the way home.

God sometimes doing this show is a pain in the arse. I’m sick of people walking in and out with food or going to the toilet. I’m now seriously starting to get pissed off with this. I can’t do my show properly. When it works I know it’s a great show, but every time that fucking door moves it put me on edge. I’m not doing this venue again next year. Starting to wonder why I even bother wasting all that money on the brochure entry. Even the 4 times I’ve more or less filled the venue I ask at the start who saw me because of the brochure and only a few people have said yes and they could still mean the Free Festival brochure.

Getting really grumpy. Missing normality and doing one a gig a day.

That’s why I’m glad Manera and I pulled the show at Lindsays. To be honest it could have gone ahead, but it was 15 minutes after the show should have started and out minimum 25 audience members weren’t there. It always gets at least 40, but to be hinest we couldn’t be arsed to deal with late comers…

AND WENT TO WE ARE KLANG. DICK PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All I’m going to say about them is this.

BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT
BRILLIANT

Then we went to the So You Think You’re Funny party and drank and boogied till dawn. I really needed a day like this. Certainly gonna party, see more shows and have more fun next year.

Also not going to bring a guitar and props around with me either. Straight stand up.

Just had a fab two days. Woke up feeling rough on Thurs, but to be honest that’s how I’m always feeling even when I get a lot of sleep.

Didn’t have time to flyer or have breakfast because I needed to meet up with the Big Night Out boys and go quad biking. It’s the annual Edinburgh Big Night Thing. And do you know what? It’s brilliant to hang around with people that have just turned up to have a bit of fun in Edinburgh for a few days. We were constantly cracking jokes and taking the piss on the way to Quad Biking which was quite a way out so it was brilliant to catch a bit of countryside.

The weather was brilliant and the bikes were fairly easy to use. You had to really lean over when you took a corner which was really scary at first. Of course, 7 guys on Quad Bikes and no one was going to admit that. Although Coppin was riding around like he was Ghost Rider.

Lucero arrived with velvet trousers, which probably isn’t the best thing. He got the nick name of Driving Miss Daisy. Although the award for biggest fuck up went to me for crashing into a tree, going straight into a bush of thorns rather than take a corner AND getting half the team lost. Muchos piss taking and laughing was had by all. At the end the instructor handed me the bottle of champagne. Good honest macho fun. Jeremy pointed out that when you’re on a Quad bike you can’t think ablut your Edinburgh show. And that’s just what the Doctor ordered.

We then went and had a pub lunch and I’d drank 4 pints of Stella then ran home to get my stuff for my show. I got chatting to Manera and arrived quite late and bit drunk. I suppose it had to happen once. I sat down to tune my guitar and 4 people walked out. I was left with 12 people including Lindsay and I have to say what a wonderful crowd. I was confident with the show to just do it and not mind when they didn’t laugh too loud in places. Then just towards the end I pulled a few bit out from my club set then ended with my final piece. The collection was good so I could tell they enjoyed it.

Went home and slept for a bit then made my way to Lindsay’s. I have to say it was one of the most enjoyable nights there. The audience was well up for it, I spent my opening MCing bit winding the crowd up and they kept interrupting, including Pam Ford. I deserved it because I said my hair was looking a bit shit and she shouted out, “Oi!” I explained to the crowd that she cut my hair. Typical, I’m just getting to the end of the festival and I’m getting in my stride.

It was an awesome night, wonderfully finished with Manera reconstructing the Spanish Civil War with the audience, a straw and an egg whisk. It was pure pandemonium.

We got a cab to th Pleasance Dome where we caught the Gonzo Dog Do Bar Band. Hooray! My favourites were back for one night only. They were brilliant. They’d got some extra people and were really tight. I got to go on at the start and play the keys. I say with Mark Banana at the front and Kiki was there, who is always in Edinburgh, always goes to the Gonzos, was in an episode of The Office where she snogs Gareth in the night-club and she’s damn sexy to boot. So we got up and shook our funky stuff. Had a boogie with Diggins when Jollity Farm came up. I stayed around and had a chat with some of the guys then eventually tried to leave, but I bumped into John Mawer and Kirsty. So we had a drink in Brooks bar, where I ended up chatting with the band and loads of people that know me, but I had no idea who they were. This has been happening a lot in this festival. Either I’m a lot more famous than I realise or I’m self-obsessed. He says writing a public diary. You choose.

Finally got home at 5am.

PBH was at the Bonzos. It was nice to see him and I must admit, I miss him. He did walking like and Egyptian and did the letter from the mother in sport.

I only dragged myself out of bed until the very last minute today. God I’m fucking knackered. Really tired. I want to go home. I’ve had enough. I was like this last year. I’m starting to get irritated with everybody and everything. I had a shower and made my way to the Underbelly and the audience was great. A little quiet in places but up for it. Decided to do more of my club stuff and had a bit of a ball doing material I haven’t done in weeks.

Pippa Evans saw me on the Royal Mile and said that my hair was “interesting”. I had a look in a window and indeed it looked greasy and lank. I want to go home.

I bumped into the bundle of joy that was my audience member from hell and by member I do mean cock from last night. I asked her out of interest in she was offering me a free ticket to her show and she said that she had no control over the free tickets, but might be able to get me in half price. She then explained her behaviour last night as it was like being in the bar. I told her there was a bar downstairs for that kind of behaviour. I think she’s starting to understand through my gritted politeness that I’m slightly miffed with her pig ignorant behaviour.

The gig was shit to be honest. At least the great people sat in the front two rows. All I could gather from the rest of them was they were in a show, ran out of money and got a shit review. So like a gang of Dementors they sucked the life and hope out of the room. To show how much they hated the show I got £2.50 in my collection. This was from 17 people. I actually wished the audience member from hell was back. At least she laughed and had life and a smile about her manner. Cute too.

On the bright side I got a gig from Mirth Control and someone from the Leicester Mercury interviewed me over the phone, so it was nice to have something positive happening during the day.

Got to Lindsays and my laptop was freezing up and I couldn’t get onto the Internet, then the power supply stopped working. At least it isn’t raining.

Everyone was telling stories of big shows they’d seen with miserable audiences, shows cancelled, low numbers all across the board. At least I know the bastards aren’t out to get me.

I thought we were going to have to cancel the show upstairs, but we got a crowd in. I decided to treat the gig a lot more gentle and called it laid back Monday. It worked. Barbara Nice was in and really enjoyed the show and the style on compering. I think this is what all audiences needed. My hat goes off to James Christopher who opened wonderfully, Stuart Black who closed the first section perfectly. Nats Luurtsema, a fantastic new act that is going to be big, she did great opening the second section, Rob Debb was fantastic closing the second section and got the biggest laugh all night with his closing comment.

I ended the evening having a lovely long chat with Rob Debb and Mark Logan from Men With Bananas. Yes it’s the geek posse together. Got a cab back and the flat was empty. At 3.30am. Manera arrived and we sat up drinking wine and chatting till 5am.

Jesus I have the Underbelly to do at 1.40pm. God help me.

1. i overheard international fest director telling william burdett-coutts early in the festival that he kept trying to get in touch with the new fringe director but the guy never had time for him/was too busy seeing shows.

int'l director said fringe director doesn't ever have to see a show; he doesn't have responsibility for shows, he just runs a box office.

i liked that.

(for the record, the int'l director admitted he's heard the fringe head was a good guy.)

2. the scotsman's claire smith, warmly drunk, with extreme kindness in her eyes, said i was unfair to her poet friend anita in this blog. (i apologized.) claire said she liked the open me better than the mean me; preferred the andrew who facilitated connections between people out of pure, powerful goodness, seeking no personal gain.

her examples were my hooking her up with rain pryor and paul provenza.

but of course, i co-produced rain's show that year and this year hooked claire up with provenza as part of my work on behalf of the green room, so maybe i was looking for just a touch of personal gain.

3. told reg hunter i admired his delivery tremendously but pretentiously offered that i was looking for a comedy style freed from the limitations of a single, set style.

he said that was jazz and i said i'd been called a jazz comedian, which he didn't think sounded implausible. told me to wait right there, he would be right back, this was the best conversation he's had at the festival.

i waited a while then moved to other friends, so it's hard to say whether his return to that part of the bar was the promised coming back. (but i didn't feel dissed. we were just bar denizens in motion.)

4. kate copstick said i carry with me "a miasma of sadness" or something like that.

i asserted she had not seen me sad this entire fest; that i was now "zen".

she said if that was the case, the i had changed.

but maybe the truth is that i've been responding to changed circumstances.

My friend Robin pointed out how my blog begins with unmitigated joy and descends into despair. I’m fine now it’s the final day, but the following is what I wrote on Saturday night.

Hell is a city stuck perpetually at 3am. Each doorway leaks a stream of piss, women too drunk to care hold down short skirts as a tribute to dignity, men’s mouths squirm from alcohol-palsied faces and all manner of detritus blows down streets that will never see the sun.

Will Hodgson described today as “cunt Saturday”. He’s not far wrong. The whole day was one long, drawn out panic attack for me. People everywhere. Hell may also be being stuck in a crowd that never disperses. I think that’s what it is for me: a never-ending pavement where surges upon surges of people enter the thoroughfare with no exit.

See! See what happens to a man when he is driven to wanton self-importance!

I wouldn’t have got through Saturday night without the image of Matt Crosby drumming in the Bob Dylan backing band sketch in Pappy’s Fun Club. I downloaded the song on iTunes as soon as I got home. Joy.

Awards are funny beasts. It's depressing that for all this fuss, worry and talk it all boils down to about 100 words in a backpage of The Guardian. "Someone you think you might recognise won an award you've never heard of, it used to be called something you'll vaguely recollect".

Last nights zone was my favourite thus far. I’m now just totally going out on a limb and it’s great. It’s a bit sad to think we’ll never all be on the same bill again after tonight. It’s been a real pleasure to work with all the guys. If you fancy some late night fun come down to the zone tonight for the last one.

Here are my top five fringe things:

1. Being told that Matt Crosby had described the ‘Lost Vagueness’ launch party as “a total cunt museum”
2. Doing ‘On Heat’ with Russell, Mark and Jon. Just like old times.
3. Dan Atkinson ending his show by saying “ladies and gentlemen, outside there is someone collecting for an AIDS charity, so PLEASE… don’t give him any money”
4. Pappy’s
5. Richardson getting nominated.
6. Oh yes, and telling a drunk woman heckler who tried to chat me up that "I'd rather fuck a window"

There’ll be more in this blog if they let me carry on. Expect something wistful tomorrow morning.

By four now.

it was bus exhaust coming through my window.

on "late night lounge with reggie watts" at the green room.

1am.

i know proximate fringe people were planning to indulge.

i hope the amount i breathed didn't create microscopic strips of dead flesh on my heart that will come to haunt me later in life.

strange that i didn't drink water after ingesting massive amounts of if.com champagne but woke up feeling alright after only a little sleep. maybe it was from ambient cocaine smoke's energizing effects.

i hope the large detox special i had at the gilded balloon's juice bar will help save me.

And goddamn I'm happy about it! Well sort of. It hasn't quite hit me yet that our show is now over, and I feel programmed that I will have to go to a dark dank little cave to perform to 15 people, 4 of whom will not enjoy our show because they thought it was friendly comedy about cakes. And while that may not sound fun to some of you, and you may have seen my poorly written section on the front of chortle today about being sick of the show, I will miss it. I will miss worrying about how many we have in, I will miss the dressing room banter with the lovely Dave and Dave and others (although not the show before us, they were arses), I will miss distributing high fives to our excellent tech sturdy Neil, and front of house legend Gavin, I will miss making children upset with viking rape gags, and making crowds laugh. I wont miss flyering, but I don't think anyone will. I feel we've got some good stuff out of it. Excellent quotes, some interesting offers and the knowledge that we can cope with a month of shows. Also I've seen some truly brilliant stuff this year and I'm so glad I got off my arse to do so.

Its been an extremely long month and a hell of a lot of hard work and fun. Our final show was OK today. No pranks or anything as we were too tired for that after being out till the wee hours. The if.com party was good last night, but mainly due to drinking much with Ginger, Black and one of the Penny Dreadfuls, to the point where we thought dancing was OK. Always a sign of drunkenness when you lose your dignity. Hooray for Burnsy and Basden. Brendon's was like a lifetime achievement award I suppose, but I am a tad sad it didn't go to Pappy's as their show was just ace. Basden's show was brilliant too, but I lost a fiver to Lauren as I bet on Richardson, because his show was one of the best things I've seen this fringe too. Either way, at the end of the day, I didn't really care and we all knew most people were there for the free booze, which was successfully provided.

And so the last show today was slightly slow and tired. Again however it doesn't matter because its done, and I've survived the month. Now for two days of no responsibility and drinking lots followed by a week of sleep. I'd be lying if I said 'roll on next year's fringe', but I also know the anti-climax will hit me in a day or so, and I'll feel a little sad leaving the beautiful festival city. Ho hum, roll on next year.......

This is the end.

Or is it the beginning? No, it’s the end. God, I’m knackered. There were things and shows to be doing from 9am yesterday til 3 this morning, so I drank a lot of caffeine yesterday then couldn’t sleep and have been all wobbly today. But last night was great – the girls’ night at Old Rope, with me (doing the first comedy club outing for the teenage emo character, who is now trying to get mainstream appeal), Lucy Porter, Zoe Lyons, Sarah Kendall – and of course, Paul Foot’s mime of the day. It was a joy to watch and be part of. I’m so pleased that Zoe got the best newcomer nomination because every time I see her gig recently she’s brilliant and just like totally rocks at the moment
Trying to think what my highlights of the Festival have been. Andy Zaltzman’s show – right from the offstage “sportsgig” commentary at the start, with all the statistics and wondering how the show is going to go, commenting on likely audience reaction / what jokes will appear, it is amazing and funny, different, endearing and smart. And I would like to point out that it’s a very difficult feat to make something smart and endearing at the same time.
From a performing perspective, doing Mitch Benn’s music show stands out because it’s the only time in my life I’ve got to play with a proper band whilst being the “lead singer”, if only for a song. It was such a buzz (I did my newest song “Sewing”, complete with cranked up guitar from Mitch and ethereal keyboards from Kirsty) and it rocked. Well, I don’t know if it rocked for the audience but it did for me – I now need to write more songs purely so that I can play them with a band, and practise more, purely so I don’t feel insecure playing with actually brilliant musicians. Speaking of which, I did Reggie Watts’s show again last night, and he’s still a genius. He must just wake up every morning and go, wow, I’m a genius, again. Except I don’t think he does because he’s too modest.
The show has been an interesting one. I’ve had some nice reviews, and the show has had some nice reviews, and I feel like we have achieved something, though you’re never really sure what until after the Fringe.

26 / 8 / 07

So Brendan won! It’s the last show today! I can’t wait to go home! I really should be getting ready for the show instead of writing this, but I can’t make myself take any of it seriously any more! Everything’s great! I’ll be back home in London tomorrow!
Look, I’ll give you a more considered update when I’ve eaten something. I’ve gone a bit dizzy.

First off - I'm not dead. An odd amount of messages have recently enquired about my pulse, to the point where I have been starting to believe that my demise has been reported somewhere. So, for the record, I'm alive - I have merely been making way for the North of the Border lot and felt including blogs over the past month or so may have seemed slightly, well, gloaty. Not because of what I have been doing, moreover what I have not been subjected to this year. Nothing worse than somebody banging on about how they're not losing money this year and all that bollocks - in the times I have been up to do shows at the fringe there has always been some cunt doing that and I am so not that person. I remain proud of all of those souls living the dream up there.

However, given that I was uncommitted, I decided that I was going to make an effort to do something with my August time this year, to warrant not making the journey North yet also giving myself the break that my head and body has been screaming out for. I think I pretty much managed to balance the leisure/work thing, despite suffering nervous irritability, anxiety dreams and an alarmingly regular propensity for heartburn over the last fortnight or so.

Today/Yesterday/Saturday I got to put to bed one of the frustrations of last August, by going over to Wembley to see St Helens play (and win) in the Rugby League Challenge Cup. You may recall from last year that it was a major annoyance for me that they were playing in a cup final which I could not attend, so this year that was put to rights, even if the new Wembley Stadium was a major disappointment - utterly without soul, and a massive metallic reminder that there are certain things in life money cannot buy. Sitting in that dome today, with nothing close to 'atmosphere' made me mourn the character and excitement of the old place, the twin towers (the Wembley ones not the terrorist ones) and despise the business people even more than I already did (which was a lot). Hard to believe it could have taken them so long to make something so shit. But Saints lifted the cup at 4.45, so it wasn't all bad.

I started the month by recording the last two episodes of my podcast, and I have really missed doing them over the past few weeks (the whole first series is still on iTunes for the time being, and of course at www.chortle.co.uk/raypeacock). I'd sort of got it into my head that doing them would distract me from the Fringe, but hadn't reckoned into account the fact that the series break was coming at Episode Ten which fell in the second week of August and so would leave me with nothing to do beyond the handfull of gigs I had booked in. So I did what any artistically minded person would do in such a situation and began writing a book.

Yeah you heard me - writing a book. A proper one and everything.

I wrote one a year or so ago (or rather I finished writing one then - took me fucking ages to do it), but the rejection/conditional letters from publishers and the complete disinterest in reading it from a large chunk of my friendship base sort of put me off writing the next one. The indifferent friends thing - that's a big deal for me incidentally, and I'm not entirely sure that it's fair on my part to feel it to be so, but that doesn't alter the fact. It's been the same with the podcast - I've got so many emails and MySpace messages from people (strangers) who listen to it religiously (perhaps sometimes TOO religiously), and then I'll speak to someone who's meant to be a mate or whatever and hear "Oh, I'm a bit behind with them" or "I've not got round to listening to them yet". It actually kind of offends me, especially when in the next breath they start talking to me about fucking Big Brother or something. Ever get that thing when you actually start thinking the universe is giving you clues about whether or not you need certain folk in your life? Is it really that big a drain on a friend of an "artist" to at least make an effort to be fucking supportive?

Anyhow, the book is coming along nicely - it is sort of writing itself but at a reeeeally slow pace, which I'm also kind of enjoying. For a good while I used to think I was an impatient kind of chap, but I've started to believe more and more that it was more a case of that I have moved in impatient circles - I'm actually extraordinarily patient, expecially where creativity is concerned. Big fan of doing stuff slow.

Not that I live at a snail-pace. For example, I went to Chessington World Of Adventures (and that name should be reported to the Advertising Standards people by the way) the other day, so that proves that I live fast sometimes. To save any wondering on your part, I'm gonna slag that off too. My theme park of choice will always be Blackpool Pleasure Beach (although I no longer go there), and basically, anything that isn't Blackpool Pleasure Beach gets the thumbs down from me. Especially when it is full of "those" sort of people (you'll know the ones if you've ever been) and seems to pride itself on queuing, shit food and an enormous wasp population. These things do not adventures make. The only good thing about the day was the fact that I managed to train Little Raji James' children to point at him in public a lot whilst listing various films and TV shows he's appeared in and looking total strangers in the eye for acknowledgement of recognition. A brilliant game.

Gigs wise, I've had a load of fun in the past month, in particular my weekend at the Leicester Summer Sundae festival thing, which is officially my favourite of all the summer festivals. I compered the comedy tent on the Saturday and Sunday, and the long old shows meant that I could cram such a varied amount of play into them that I thought I would literally run out of fun. Highlights included making children do really bad swearing, lots of breakdancing, a freak show and proclaiming a bloke called Jamie a God (he sat on a cow onstage whilst I banged a gong and three hundred audience members bowed, chanted his name and generally praised him - it may have been my finest onstage moment ever).

The downside of my weekend there was the fact that I was constantly mistook for the lead singer of the Magic Numbers as I walked around (they were playing the main stage) - I had members of The Divine Comedy, Echo & The Bunnymen and even fucking Sophie Ellis Bextor nodding at me backstage as though they knew me, until somebody pointed out that they all must have thought I was that bloke. I'm not actually very knowledgeable about the Magic Numbers, and to be fair, wouldn't have known him if I was pissing on him, so had literally no idea what he looked like or how accurate a doppleganger I had unwittingly become, but as I left on the Saturday night I did meet him. He had a beard and long hair and was a biggish bloke. That's about the extent of it. As a matter of fact he is twice the fucking size of me - his head is bigger than my body - and I shouted at him for making my life a misery that day. He gave me a massive cuddle and apologised - we got a photo took together and we really don't look alike (it's on the podcast myspace page in the pics section - www.myspace.com/theraypeacockpodcast) but I took to him given how well he took the random abuse hurled at him by a total stranger. I think his name is Romeo or something.

And that is kind of that - sorry for hijacking the blogs section at such an important time but I was whining here first, long before any of this lot. Am gonna start up writing on here proper again next week (apologies for this one - am clearly out of practise) as it might help me to carry on with my book (I'm really trying not to call it a novel - there's just something about saying that word I don't like).

Don't forget - full podcast series is on iTunes and www.chortle.co.uk/raypeacock - it really does have it's moments and it's so free it hurts. Maybe you could listen to it as you do cooking or masturbate or whatever it is you do? You know, kill two birds with one stone as it were.

See you on the beach x

and, after a terrific noon show and an effective anthology, it was a disaster.

got back to berlin from the green room huffing and puffing, covered with sweat with only 3 minutes to spare. there was a massive crowd waiting for me -- andrew roper was beaming supportively and had set up the room to accommodate the clamoring mass.

only thing was, it wasn't really set up well for me.

i'd found i did best in the room if i left it informal and unset-up; people, even a large crowd, would naturally form kind of a circle around me (or something similar) and it facilitated the storytelling style of the show.

but this set-up, while it would have been fine for joke-oriented stand-up (where what you're saying is important, rather than how you say it) was not going to work. people were far-flung and i had to connect, so knew it was going to be a tough haul.

normally in this run, i've been explaining at the outset that i'm going to tell a story and that if anyone was expecting something more jokey and didn't want to sit through a monologue, i would not be offended if they decided to move on. but with a big crowd like this, it would have been bizarre to do that -- to greet a room filled with people by basically saying, "i'm not gonna do what you came for, so get out."

so -- ambivalently -- i plowed forward, wondering what would happen.

i toyed with doing my less serious thing, but even that -- improvisational and personal in style -- was not easy to accomplish with the crowd split into different sections of the room.

therefore -- going for broke -- i started the monologue but, unfortunately, with their ears tuned to joke frequency, the crowd was not picking up on the quiet humor in my piece.

and i don't want to make anyone miserable, so i basically stopped the show. i told the audience i'd probably made a mistake in trying to tell my story, which i could tell seemed dry and boring to them, but that i felt shifting back to a lighter tone would not work at this point, so if they wanted me to simply stop, i would do so.

i said if they wanted me to continue, i would go on and if only some of them wanted me to go on, i would continue the story for them. and a lot of people left, after which i moved the remainder into one area and continued.

they seemed genuinely interested and we all felt a lot better, but i changed the order of the story elements to juice things up and that left the remainder of the story bereft of necessary climaxes and interest turned to tolerance which turned to impatience, which marked the show a failure.

it was, i guess, my fault. i probably should have reorganized the crowd and implemented all necessary explanations and disclaimers.

then again, it's become a tradition that my last show, no matter how well the run has gone, is a poor one.

but, of course, that was not really my last show. i have one more "anthology07" tomorrow.

Arthur's Seat is deceiving steep and more so when you are hungover and in a rush. Hills seem to have the ability to become only more difficult when you are in some way handicapped. This is again one of the reasons why Edinburgh is the worst place in the world to be with a hangover.

The reason for this morning's hike was to take part in This Sketch Group Belongs to Lionel Richie's show up on Arthur's Seat. They were going to do their full hour, but realising that some sketches may be tough to do without a stage and lighting, they decided to split the bill. And despite the trek (which was to be fair only bad because of my beer gut and unhealthiness) it was a great gig, with a fantastic view. About 100 people showed up and were all really receptive despite the strong winds. It was fun to be part of something that felt like it was truly the spirit of the fringe. Consequently as well, any other hill I have walked up today has been easy to deal with. The place where Arthur rests his bum is clearly king of the hills.

Numbers finally picked up for our show today which was nice and I can only hope that it will be the same tomorrow, not least so that I don't have to flyer much in the morning. I am finally so so sick of flyering that it has risen high on my list of most hated things. Its the if.comeddies tonight, and while I am there to see who wins, I am mainly there because of free booze. Free booze + fun = next day flyering pain.

We are both pleased there is only one show to go now, and doing it that million times has made us realised what bits we've done wrong and could do better next time. Doing things like Arthur's Seat today and Devlin's Daily at the Stand yesterday keeps the enjoyment up. But we are truly sick of the script, the music used and just about everything to do with our show and I'm looking forward to shoving to the back of my head for a bit, and just enjoying my last couple of days here.

Saw Stewart Lee last night. Another brilliant show from him. It was only marred by some complete twat who walked right across the stage behind him, once about 20mins, and once at the end when he as trying to close the show. Stewart dealt with it brilliantly, but the man's sheer incompetence was ridiculous. People like that should not be allowed to see comedy, or at least snipered if they do things like that.

Night before I went to see the Shins who were amazing. So nice to once again do something completely not comedy related. I also saw the Witching Hour which was quite possibly the scariest live show I have ever seen. I didn't know I could scream like a girl until I saw that show. I highly recommend it, although I will never ever go again as my nerves cant take it.

Home soon! Real food, actual sleep and preparation for next year awaits!

Two more days to go and our review from three weeks JUST came out. We got 4 stars! YEAH. Not entirely sure how accurate the description of the show is, but FUCK YEAH! 4 stars! See below:

A NIGHT IN SANDY HOLE!
4 STARS **** (Three Weeks)
If you enjoy the appalling, giggle at the ghastly and absolutely adore Alan Partridge then you'll love this. Spend the night in Sandy Hole - guest house to the stars, where a special atmosphere makes for a hilarious show. The garish make-up daubed on the repulsive hosts, and their grotesque, sexually explicit humour, is exactly what makes this bloody brilliant. They push the very word extreme beyond its exceptionally broad limits, straddle decency on the way and drag it to the depths. It hits you like a wet fish round the face - ignorant, simple, perfectly timed and refreshing, if slightly uncomfortable. Sick humour never tasted so good.
Holyrood Too @ Faith, 12 - 26 Aug, 9:45pm (10:45pm), £5.00 (£4.00), fpp 79.
tw rating 4/5

I went out till late again last night and the day's running away already. A great show last night though with the fab Lucy Porter and Ewen Macintosh doing the short celebrity guest spots. Tonight we have PETE FIRMAN AND JOSIE LONG. Woop!

I'm very surprised at myself for having lasted this long here at the fucked up edinburgh festival. I made a decision not to let the ego maniacs get to me, and to simply let their crazy views wash over me like a lovely wave. (A wave that didn't contain salt so if I did happen to open my mouth whilst it went over me, I could swallow its content and not choke)

I have to say that Caroline Clifford's cartoons are GREAT. Please read them if you haven't already. She ace she is and so is Evie Anderson. I like them both lots - we done some good drinking since being here and they're both really nice drunks. YAY!

Anyway, the second to last show's tonight and then I'm off to the Phat Cave with my pal Kate. Another late night drink me thinks. Oh well, I really did enjoy the FOUR shows I saw whilst up here. Pathetic eh? THANKS ALCOHOL. THANKS ALOT.

malt whisky tasting and lecture in leith with chris "shockwave" sullivan of freestyle love supreme and the two girls from that popsicle show at the assembly rooms. (not just rare malt whisky but didn't have to pay and had ox-flavored crisps!)

some dancing at "you think you're so funny" (as tony woods called it) party. (great music! -- andrew mcclelland was djing.)

drafting and sending an angry e-mail regarding a pr dispute with venue during my "anthology07" show, then telling an unauthorized (i didn't authorize him) videographer to turn his camera away from the stage, "angrily" rushing toward him and covering his lens with my hand like a disgraced politician walk or a celeb fed-up with a paparazzo.

singing to reg hunter -- who's been doing "man love" schtick when we encounter each other -- "man love, that's whatcha got, that's whatchoo got" to the tune of the old song "bad luck" at a party in a posh flat (essentially) next door to the castle.

wandering around town admiring the geography and the architecture with fellow american lewis schaffer.

Hello,

Please can somebody look at my BBC video on youtube or at least pretend to I seem to have to least hits EVER

This is the link

Thanks everyone,

The Cliff

The trend for freaky Thursday audiences carried on last night. It's like they've all been given bad news just before the gig and only come in because it's what their recently deceased friend 'would have wanted'. The first bloke i chat to in the crowd won't tell me his name because he "came to listen, not to talk thank you very much". What an utter joyless cunt. i did what any compere should do in that situation and immediately sacked the front row, replacing them with more giddy people from the row behind. Hurrah!

Richardson got nominated, genius. I've discovered there's no better feeling than genuine one hundred percent pride on someone else's behalf. It's a lovely warm feeling with the merest hint of happy tears and topped off with a Cheshire-cat smile. Good for him. If he and Pappy's won the awards it would be a huge score for joy and hard work. I'm in a good mood.

Last few nights me and Team Zone have been to a few sexy parties. On Weds the PBJ/Mick Perrin one and last night the SYTYF one. The former reeked of fannies and shame but the alcohol was free. The latter was full of youthful souls, wide-eyed and drunk on wonder...and free alcohol. I left both relatively early, parties where I don't know anyone and, more depressingly, no-one knows me, give me the blues. However, I did find fun in doing Joe and Barry's material whilst under the effects of helium from the PBJ balloons, that was a high point. It's nice to do all these things this year, so when i bring up my own show I'll know I'm not missing much, just the sight of comics trying to get off with teenage girls and the vague feeling of disappointment and dread. Who knew?!

I have also had a cold the last few days. I never really get ill, but a wantonly huge dose of vitamin C usually sorts the whole thing out. It's the microphones fault. You couldn't design a better way of spreading a virus. Having just finished series five of 24 I'm guessing the only terrorist threat they haven't covered is microphone infection. I'll look forward to that in season 6. I did a WMD awareness gig and said i wouldn't be willing to eradicate all weapons of mass destruction as it would leave Jack Bauer with nothing to do, and therefore render my life meaningless. I also shouted at a man in the audience for saying the best way to stop the trade in arms is to stop paying taxes. What a jackass. How can you call yourself left-wing and yet sanction not contributing to the welfare state, a truly incredible institution that protects the most vulnerable people in our society. He claimed that the NHS was loosing money. I pointed out that that is exactly what makes the welfare state so incredible; it's a managerial nightmare, it will always haemorrage money, it is totally unworkable, and yet wholly necessary. At this point in the gig i got my first ever 'right-on' round of applause. I'm not edgy or topical ever, but it felt good to do the finger-licking one nil sign in the air to rapturous applause. Maybe i should memorise some George Bush quotes, he's quite the dunce i hear.

Anyhow, look at me rambling like i've got nothing better to do...
oh...hang on...oh dear...
did i mention i finished watching 24? Despair.

j

Please note this is NOT a true story just inspired by one :D

OK this next one is a bit awkward. Basically I got annoyed with everyone in my show and how I usually deal with that is to draw nasty cartoons about everyone so what follows is a scathing and unfounded attack on my shipmates, you'll be pleased to know we all made up (not that they noticed I was annoyed anyway) and I like them all very much:

Took me two weeks to get 'Idiots of Ants'. It was only when I heard Ross from the Canal Cafe say it out loud that I suddenly thought, hey, that sounds like ... oh.

Then, yesterday, I read the Chortle review of Jon Richardson's show, which mentioned the "gratingly bad wordplay" of his title, and I thought, is it? How does that work? I'd seen the poster, and there was genuinely quite a large part of my brain that had thought, look, he's using a spatula to pick something up off the floor. He's using a spatula as a pad. Spatula pad. Simple. Odd name for a show, though. (Presumably, there's a slightly less big part of my brain that assumes that you should always use a pad to pick things up off the floor).

Really tired now. My projector went bust twice tonight during the show, having been fine all festival long. Still, at least my dad's pharmacist, Alex Horne's parents and Stewart Lee weren't watching.

I've been drinking quite alot this festival and I had one of my SPECIAL hangovers on monday which left me puking all day, although I didn't drink that much the night before... My mouth is now, not unlike an open-wound, the taste buds on my tongue seem to have disappeared in places and my voice is more husky/manly than ever.

Gareth came to visit and we had a great time. We went to the Phat Cave on sunday and it was mad - I'd totally recommend checking it out if you haven't already. I really am quite ashamed at the amount of shows I haven't been to see. Tomorrow I plan to change all that starting with a play starring Eleanor Tiernan which is at 1:30pm. (This is an EXTREMELY early start for me.)

My pal Kate came up yesterday and so she shall see I stay sane until the end of the fest. I must say I'm counting down the bedtimes till I can be in my own bed. My bed (in the student halls) is covered in plastic, (for unexpected juice spillage I expect)and whenever I wake up in the night I keep thinking I've wet myself. Sometimes I probably have. Who knows?

We're in our final days at the fest and its going really quickly, we've only four shows left to do! Tonight we've sold quite a few tickets which is ace as we have a VIP coming to watch the show. Tomorrow we have special guests Lucy Porter and Ewen Macintosh coming on down to the Sandy Hole so I'm reckoning we should get a good crowd. If you're up in Edinburgh come on down to see A night in Sandy Hole. Its much fun - Yes it is.
BYE.

As a comic I like to think that I am constantly striving for laughter, pleased when a gag works and actually successfully entertaining people as per the job title. However, for the first time ever yesterday, I realised that the wrong kind of laugh can ruin everything, and be worse than a cold deathly silence.

We had both an agent and a TV scout come along to our show yesterday. We were happy about this as we've had really good numbers and crowds which has been great. Sadly, not only was it an emptyish gig, but of the few people that were there, two of them were completely nuts. Perpetrator number one wasn't so bad. He was brain damaged or something and sat in his wheelchair going in and out of consciousness, while mumbling nonsense. I didn't mind this so much. Perpetrator number two however, had a laugh like some sort of a jackal being molested and/or attacked, and he would laugh at loudhailer volume. He chose to use this laugh before and after every punchline, and in every possible place where it made it possible to throw our timing out of the window and kill all atmosphere in the room. It was such a horrible intrusive sound, akin to having a fire alarm go off right next to you. There wasn't much we could do either. If we were nasty to him it would have created tension, if we acknowledge it nicely its almost like we've asked him in as our canned laughter. So we just pushed through what was possibly the worst show this month and left feeling like we should hang ourselves.

I have subsequently heard that the TV scout couldn't concentrate after 15 minutes of that noise and therefore didn't pay any attention to our show. Another reason the laughing man must be killed. How can a laugh be that selfish? I aim to find this man and torture him with the recordings of his own laugh for 24 hours a day out of punishment. Grrrr.

The word on the street is that this last week is a bit quiet for the festival. We've had a sudden drop in numbers since Tuesday, and so have lots of other acts I've spoken to. And the Royal Mile really doesn't seem as packed as normal. Very strange. What is it that the punters know that we don't?

Although there is a chance we have low numbers due an occurrence with poster sabotage. Being rookies at the postering lark, we decided to go pasting the other night all sneaky like with a bucket and handfuls of deviancy. We do have poster distributors but we have 100 left so we thought we'd get them up. Turns out that despite trying to paste them to the side, above or below other posters, we were hitting someone else's turf. They retaliated by the next day sticking big 'CANCELLED' stickers over all of our posters. Ouch, what a sting. Luckily the misunderstanding has now been sorted and our wrong posters have been removed. I cant help thinking though how vicious and nasty that is. Needless to say we wont be putting more up anywhere.

Nominations have now all been made. I'm so so pleased for Pappy's, I loved their show, so its very well deserved. Also all the newcomers are great. I saw a preview of Micky's at Fat Tuesday and it was brilliant, Zoe's show two weeks ago was great, and Tom's show on Sunday was excellent. Despite this though, I went to see Jon Richardson the other night, and it was hands down one of the best shows I've seen this festival. Truly funny with such lovely touches about his OCD. That man definitely deserves the award.

Other good shows. Saw Waiting for Alice, with Jupitus and Vincent in, which was brilliant, and very funny. Also saw a Pinter play my friend is in, called the Collection. Very mad play, but great production and worth it to see just how scary my friend Sam can be.

Last night was We Are Klang - Dickparty. Their sketches will endlessly be hilarious. Really great show if you can catch it, despite their 'arrogantly short run'.

I saw a Scottish goth the other day who was wearing all the usual moody black gear, but combined with a leather black kilt and black leather sporran. I wanted to high five him for sheer comedy genius. I hope that around the world Goths are gothing (not a word, but I like it) traditional wear everywhere. I didn't high five him though as I have been distributing high fives everywhere recently far too freely. This needs to stop as it will only lower their celebratory value.

Only 3 shows left!!! Hooray!!!

Well, surprisingly this last weekend should be nice. Well worth finding out that the hardest part of the festival was the end of the middle week. When you're there, you think it's going to get tougher and tougher until your head explodes. If you've never done an hour show, when you do one remember that it gets easier in the final week. Keep the faith. The nominations came out yesterday, and above all, I'm delighted for Jon. He deserved that. I'm also happy for Pappy. It's the most feel-good funny comedy I've seen all festival.
I've just booked my train ticket home, and I'll be travelling first-class! Not by choice, but bizarrely it was the cheapest available ticket. It'll be a real salve to sit there and be fed caviar and champagne whilst being massaged by nubile beauties. I've never travelled first-class before.
I have worries about doing Leeds festival tomorrow. The train times are hairy (I get in less than an hour before my show begins) and I hate that kind of stress. Still it's out of my hands so fingers crossed.
Not many shows left, and I've found a thought pattern that's helping with the last hump: this is the last time that you'll do these jokes as a show, or at all in Edinburgh. It would be a terrible shame to not do them justice because you're tired. This is work time. It's been a brilliant festival for me so far, so why boff it all away now?
By the way, should you ever bump into Kate Copstick, ask her about the review for Jessica Delfino that the Scotsman wouldn't let her print. Wonderful vitriol.
I'll try to write one more of these before the end, and I'll try my best to get into trouble so there's something interesting to write about too. If you're in a show, give the last weekend all you've got. If you're not in a show, um, well, I hope that you have a nice barbeque over the bank holiday.

as i injected some into my monologue in an effort to introduce more truth.

of necessity, you leave things out of true stories to make them tellable but the tone should be accurate -- people should have a sense of what they're not hearing. i felt i was coming across too much as a vulnerable victim of circumstance, which is, perhaps, more appealing than reality.

hubris is a big part of at least the subtext of my story and, as i told elise harris later in the day, a tragic comedy needs a hubristic king who facilitates his own undoing.

unfortunately, the nice, old men who were in my audience were not the prime demographic for this new shading.

oh, well.

later, more arrogance perhaps or maybe just attitude laced with silliness -- i got to berlin about a minute late for my 14:10 show and the people who'd been waiting for me had gone in to see the other show -- "the very near future". i entered the other space and demanded that they return to my performance sanctum. when they refused, i branded them, "betrayers!" and generally made a comedic scene.

the guy who's in that show couldn't look me in the eye when he later left the venue. i reentered a couple of times to continue my spiel -- before his show actually started -- and i think he felt competed with or undermined when, in fact, i had given him a terrific warm-up, reminiscent of variety and chat shows where another performer wanders in and supplies a touch of the unexpected.

andrew roper said i should realize the guy was very young and probably not yet equipped to deal deal with that kind of stuff and/or view that through that kind of prism. (it was funny, though.)

later, i did imac hunt's pro-am celebrity karaoke for a bunch of firemen who sang along during the "mack the knife"-off which pitted me against fierce celtic competitor and eventual winner, paul kerensa. then came some loitering in front of the assembly rooms, where i met rich hall's adorable little daughter (dixie ray, i think her name is) and rich said i could get in free to see his play tomorrow or today.

pretty cool.

Ooh… hello. This is the blog writing equivalent of coming in very late after a drunken night – it’s 6 am, you stagger in mumbling “oh hello darling, I just popped out for a bit” and hope your partner doesn’t notice that it’s been 36 hours since you left. Well, it’s been a lot more than 36 hours since my last confession on Chortle – how has the festival been treating you since then? It’s been nice for me, apart from the wi-fi issues. And apart from the rain. Oh, and the I’m now missing my boyfriend so much I have become practically teenage and it’s beyond parody. Also in home news, my Dad’s sister Kate rang me because she has read my blog and wanted to know if it was really true that Dad’s getting married. Oh God. And I thought the family rift would be over Gordon Brown (she’s quite pro), not “and I suppose I have to find out this sort of crucial family wedding news from a comedy forum”. I’m starting to think that if I write a blog next year I will a) get broadband and b) only write stuff about the weather, which would make the thing unreadable but very easy to get online.
In “what’s going on in the world” news – hey, how about those Heathrow protests?! That’s about as far as I’m going to go with the news stuff. I’ve been in Edinburgh too long to care.

I’ve seen SO many shows since I last wrote! I finally got to see Pappy’s Fun Club when we got a day off, which was just wonderful. I know a lot of comics have found that if you’ve got the festival blues, just book yourself in to see their show for an hour (because that’s how long it is, and anything less would be walking out of the show) and you’ll feel just ace afterwards. The Bob Dylan backing band sketch was my most helpless 5 minutes of laughter this Fringe. I honestly thought I might asphyxiate if it went on any longer. But it could have, and I really wouldn’t have minded.
Like Sarah Kendall’s show. Hilarious. Scary, Life-affirming – in the sense that you’re glad nobody died; the show is after all about her kidnapping. It’s actually as gripping as watching Wolf Creek and funny as fuck. 5 stars! 5 stars! I hope everybody has given her. The stand-up bits are those of somebody at the top of her game, and the acting bits are beautifully underplayed by her for maximum laughs.
I really really want to review shows. I only ever get that feeling though when I’ve seen something amazing, and I want to tell the world that this is definitely a 5 star show, so in that sense I’d be a shit reviewer. But as for the shows I want to evangelise about, I find myself constructing arguments with people who might potentially disagree with me: the impartial reasons why, even if this sort of comedy isn’t your thing, you have to admit that it is, from any sane perspective, a top notch show. I almost experience it as righteous anger, as though I’ve read anybody saying any different, which I haven’t this year because I’ve made a life-enhancing decision not to read reviews. Very much like Dan Atkinson, also blogging here – wonder how he’s getting on with that vow? I must read his blog next and find out. Saw him briefly today and waved as he was in his venue getting ready for his show – one of those situations where you want to say, hello, I’d love to come and see your show, please can I come soon, ideally before the end of the festival, I’ve just seen two shows back to back and am all comedyd out, so maybe it’s best if I come all fresh or as fresh at as one can be at this week 4 stage, so anyway good luck with the show and I’m just going to run away now as you’re probably getting your head together, what do you mean I’m not helping” but you think it’s probably best if you leave them to get their head together.
I like to think of that last bit as my most “Andrew Lederer” moment. In the most affectionate way. He’s lovely, I did his Anthology show the other day, and it’s great listening to all the mad, intricate thoughts that can go through one person’s brain. There was also an odd moment which apparently has happened before, where the guest act ends up closing the show but isn’t quite aware when they go on stage that this is the plan. By the time I’d worked out he wasn’t coming back my anecdotes had become random and I’d started telling the audience about the time I went to church when on holiday in a small Somerset village because I thought it would be the most weird thing two ex-Catholics could do to inject some sin and damnation and local culture into a weekend away – we’d only wanted to come and be tourists but I didn’t know that the Church of England is all about socialising and coffee mornings, and got sucked into a web of lies and deceit afterwards, because when they ask you why you’re here, you can’t say, “I dunno, neither of us has been to church for 15 years, and we thought how deliciously wrong incense and hymns would feel on this hangover. MDMA?”
I went and did Festival FM for the first time this festival last night – can’t believe I hadn’t made it that before given that I pretty much lived there last year. I did a regular review of the newspapers slot with Jon Handelaar, but this month as you will have noticed I’m slightly less topical so I just went on and talked bollocks. I’m going back on Friday for more silliness. Davies Wateracre from Pegabovine was on too, and played a very funny song about “Kate and Pete” - Moss and Docherty I’m assuming, unless my aunt and uncle have started taking a lot more drugs than I know about. I’m going to sign off now, put this online and read everybody else’s blog.

Didn’t bother to do any flyering today. Was still knackered from last night and the weather wasn’t great. So decided to have another night off especially as there tends to be crowds in anyway from the weekend. Kind of wish I had now as the show started with 9 and ended up with 14. During which the other 5 that weren’t there at the start and the food being brought out and the women going to the toilet all helped to ruin the show. Once this started the audience kept nipping to the toilet, going for drinks and one of them slipped out for a cigarette. If that was bad enough she locked herself out so someone else had to let her in. Then a man came upstairs and completely interrupted the show because he didn’t realise the men toilets were downstairs. The doors and the chairs creak. I had the most miserable woman sat right at the front in the middle. I kept having to stop and pulling the show back. All in all my worst one. A real shame especially after the last 5 or so have been getting better and better.

The worst offender who went to the toilet, arrived late, got a drink and locked herself out for the cigarette asked me if I wanted to go to her show. She didn’t offer me any free tickets and told me she couldn’t put anything in the bucket because she only had a twenty-pound note. She also didn’t have a flyer for her show. Part of me was wondering where the hidden camera was. She topped the cheery on the cake by asking me if I could get any weed. Think Her show is at C Soco around 9.20. Please gatecrash and heckle.

Had a drink and chat with Emma which was great. She assured me the show was great and I was judging it by the last load of shows. We had a good chat about future plans and had a general catch up which was ace.

Dragged my sorry ass and guitar back to the flat, made a pizza and lay on the bed. That was fantastic to say the least. Sophia and Tina came back and we all flopped for a few hours then Sophia and I went to the Mercat and I got to do an opening 20 there to a lovely crowd. Rob Debb went on after and we had a good chat after. It was good to catch up.

On the way home Sophia and I found a Dim Sum restaurant that was open till 3am and we ordered a load of starters and a bottle of wine. It was a lovely way to send her off as she’s off to Turkey the next day. Lucky cow.

I’m just going to have to do this when I can. I’m horribly busy. Too busy to even blog. So you’ll have to get entries all over the place in the wrong order.

Today I got up, had a chicken fahita dish made by Mister Manera and went out to flyer. After my pep talk by Duggie Dunlop yesterday, I tried my best to not look so dejected and knackered. I can understand the knackered bit, but not sure why the dejection. Must just be over knackered. My number have been good, slightly up on last year. The show’s now in the swing of things and I’m starting to adlib more which is what I wanted. It’s a better show than last year and it’s more like an Edinburgh show. I’ve had people coming back from last year. My lovely girlfriend Sophia is in town with her friend Tina. My friends Dave and Lucy are out for a night of watching shows and drinking. This is all good stuff. But boy is it all getting to me. I haven’t been chilling out enough.

Today I flyered for ages on the Royal Mile then popped down to the new Pear Shaped in the Afternoon at the White Horse with Rob Debb who’s also looking not his chirpy self, but confesses to have between half full and full rooms. He’s getting groups of gamers coming to his show and he’s been chatting a lot to the C-Files improv guy about conventions. It must just be the passing the halfway mark that’s doing it. A lot of people are doing their last shows this week. This means there’s going to be loads of irritating people full of happiness and energy and excitement because they’ve just got to the festival.

I have to say, the new Pear Shaped was really lovely. The place was full of punters enjoying themselves, the acts were sober, some of them had talent, the landlord was lovely, smartly dressed and called me sir. There was a friendly guy whom I knew from somewhere but he was welcoming and collected glasses, the room was a fantastic space which looked like a reconstructed cellar and even the pissed guy who kept talking at the back was friendly. So nothing like the old place.

I went up and tried to do a spot when people kept entering. Eventually someone in a wheelchair was being wheeled in so I decided to stop and let them get in because pissed bloke, while being helpful was suffering from verbal dihorea and was giving Coughlan a run for his money. So Brian got me to sing a long with one of the many Pear Shaped songs he’s written advertising the show, to which I didn’t know the words for. Then we started again. About a minute into my set, the person in the wheelchair was being wheeled out. All that fucking fuss for nothing.

From chatting to other acts it seems my theory of free shows bringing more people to the festival is probably true, but when I first wrote that comment I didn’t take into account how many more shows in general there were. I read an interesting article in The Scotsman that has mentioned the fact that it has finally got too big. I would like to think that this will put people off or make them think twice, but it will probably get even bigger next year. I even struggle in the first week. I cancelled two of my solo shows and played to single figures twice. However this week is up on last week and on Sunday I played to a bigger crowd than I did last year. I’m still coming up next year, just not going to take on so much stuff.

I got to my gig and The Good, The Bad and The Cuddly were packed as usual. I ended up with about a half full room, so again, very pleased with that. I also had a lady that saw me last year. Look at me with my cult following. Doing a full run at the festival certainly takes it out on your stuff. My guitar seems to now be permanently out of tune, my gay cowboy hat is in tatters and I have to keep brushing my lady boy wig.

Saying that the show was a corker. Sophia spoiled a bit by accident, when I asked the room if there were any ladies out there that would have sex with me. Then one guy said, “I see your girlfriend’s in”. This actually made the show more fun as all the stories about picking up crack whores etc got bigger laughs now the audience knew she was there.

I actually had to cut the show short again due to adlibbing and messing around.