Well look at this then.

Steve Bennett off Chortle has made us do us blogs in this bit because they were getting far too brilliant to be contained on the normal forums, so now have to be quarantined over here.

Is it better? Who knows yet?

I miss my picture being attatched to posts already, as I'm sure you do also, but I think at the same time it was very distracting what with me being so gorgeous. The removal of the picture has made me sad but I suppose you can't stand in the way of progress. I just always liked the idea of you casting me a little look every day and sparing me a thought.

I am still sort of on-the-road as earlier reported so will keep it short, I just wanted to contribute early on to the new look blog section.

I also would like to thank the majority of the audience at the gig at York St Johns on Saturday. It was a pretty hairy experience from time to time, despite the lights and sound being awful, the security where bang on the money. That lad that I brought up to the stage and destroyed probably would have twatted me quite easily had the security bloke not been shadowing him. You could see it in his eyes.

There was a fair bit of heckling, but it was mostly people at the back of the room shouting that they couldn't hear me. It's a very difficult heckle to deal with as there was literally nothing I could do about that. I hadn't set up the sound or laid out the room, that wasn't part of my job, I just turned up and did my best.

I was also shouted at by a lady in the audience in the closing moments who said she thought I was "rude". She looked a bit like Edwina Curry/Doctor Ruth and was, I think, American. She was one of those sneery people, very holier-than-thou, and I'm strongly suspecting that her little outburst was a deliberate stance to give her a reputation amongst the predominantly first year audience.

The irony being, I think they may all just have thought she was a stuck-up cunt.

She never fully explained what she meant by saying I was rude, even though I gave her the platform to do so. The thing is, I really hadn't been rude. There are nights when I am, sometimes unfairly so, and I shudder to think what you would have made of me sweetheart if it had been one of those gigs. On the off chance you are reading this, assuming of course you can read, could you let me know what you were on about? I'm sure you will be glad to know it has pissed me off.

Anyway - gonna go for now - will report back nearer the weekend about the gigs I am doing. I have Harper Adams agricultural college tomorrow, and you will want to read about that. It's never boring. Often goes away from comedy and becomes theatre, but there's always a story.

News for today:

Got that casting I went for the other day - pleased about that as they were, as I mentioned, nice people. Not got the full details yet, all I know is that they've offered me the job.

Tonight I did the warm-up for Bremner, Bird and Fortune which was a happy affair. Not the easiest gig I've ever done in my life, but we got there safe in the end and I met some nice people. To begin with I pretty much managed to contradict every single piece of good advice that Stephen Grant texted me the other day about doing audience warm up but then I heard Stephen's voice in my head like Ben Kenobi at the end of Star Wars (yes, all right A New Hope - you fucking nerd), got myself back on track and all was well.

Also, I assume Rory Bremner reads this blog as he followed my instructions on how to conduct oneself to the letter. Very kind to me before and after the show, very generous with his compliments - a true gentleman way beyond the call of duty. Liked him a lot. The show was very good - it's transmitted tomorrow (Sat).

And that's it for today, and indeed probably the next week or so. As I have already informed you I am on the road from tomorrow (despite not really knowing where I am going or what time I have to be there as nobody seems to want to tell me - oh hang on - getting a text - yep there's tomorrows address - how fucking weird is that? Just as I mention it!) and it's looking very unlikely indeed that I'm going to be anywhere that I can get online.

In case you care - this is where I am going:

Sat 23 - York St Johns University

Sun & Mon - Private stressing and thinking time, probably in Blackpool (if anyone is up that way, give me a ring and we can go to the fair or something)

Tues 26 - Harper Adams Freshers Ball (joy)

Weds 27 - Paisley University (SO far away...)

Thurs 28 - Stratford-upon-Avon (fuck knows where - Adam Montgomery booked me, must remember to call him and check)
Fri 29 - Krater, Brighton (compere - already excited)

Sat 30 - EDComedy, London (compere - ditto above)

And that's me.

Spare me a thought - whilst you're out enjoying yourself I'll probably be sleeping in the car dreaming about you.

Till we meet again (next week some time) - farewell xx

I just spent the night raging and writing half of (potentially) next years fringe show. It's dark and personal. I'm hoping it will still be funny in the cold light of day.

Scared?

Think I will call it "Damned if I do..." - although I'm still fond of "Lonely At The Top".

We'll see.

Now for some sleep x

So I did the Celebrity Pub Quiz at EDC tonight. A lovely evening had by all, a tie breaker to decide it for the second consecutive week (this weeks tie breaker set by me - Which year did St Helens first win the Rugby League Challenge Cup? Answer - 1956) and the celebrity factor at the quiz was boosted by the fact I was getting text messages from Donnaleigh (out of Doctors) whilst I hosted. She was gloating because she got a proper screen kiss today rather than the CPR that I had to make do with but I don't even care anyway. I'm not even bothered.

Driving home this evening I saw a man get out of his car, walk to the car in front and hit the driver. It was a set of traffic lights in Hendon. I think I may feel as shook up about this as I would have done if I had been directly involved. It does nothing for the nerves driving around London, and my anxiety levels are way up there at the best of times. I defy you to do anything as stressful as driving from South London, through the city, and then through North London (or vice versa). I tell you, wrong as it is, I can see how somebody would get to the point that they thought "Fuck it - I'm not having that..." and got out of their car to confront another driver. It's terrifying that it can do that to you.

That roundabout at Hyde Park Corner is the biggest culprit for getting me worked up. The only roundabout I have ever come across where roundabout rules are turned completely upside down, if you want to turn right you need to be in the left lane etc etc, it's a fucking nightmare, and Christ you've gotta be quick if you ever want to get off it. I'm pretty sure that there is a small percentage of London cabbies who are employed to purely drive around Hyde Park Corner over and over again being as cunty and obstinate as humanly possible and beyond.

So I got home, thinking that watching "Extras" would wind me down a bit. I like "Extras" - particularly the Les Dennis episode from series one (same as everyone else - although it was slightly ruined for me by the fact that an ex-girlfriend of mine played Les' lady friend in the show so I spent a lot of it mumbling abusive obscenities at the screen). I didn't really get to watch tonight's episode properly because my video has decided to start playing up and keeps chewing tapes. I've had that VCR for just under two years and it cost a fucking fortune. I'm so fucked off, so am looking for something to do now that will reduce my levels of anxiety tonight. Playstation is running pretty high on the list at the minute. I thought that writing this may have a calming effect and I could let off steam but all it's served to do is remind me, so perhaps I should explore other avenues for cooling my head down. Afterall I don't want to come across as a moody twat...

It's too late for that isn't it?

Blown it again...

Great - the bulb has just gone in my office (spare room) - what the fuck is going on with the lightbulbs? I really should go - am getting close to throwing a fit and you don't want to see that.

Oh, before I forget, Emma (who runs EDComedy) said tonight that there was a lady at the quiz who had come because she read about it on here. I would have said hello but I don't know which one you were, so I wasn't being rude. Thankyou for coming x

Todays entry shall be accompanied by bracketed notes about which songs come up on my ipod shuffle as I write.

(TRACK: "Do you love me - Berry Gordy jr" - a few weeks before my laptop shuffled off it's mortal coil I spent an evening downloading songs from the internet. One of the little projects I set myself that night was to download the entire "Blues Brothers" back catalogue as recorded by original artists. The self-made album is entitled "Roots of the Blues Brothers" and this track is a part of that. In the time it has taken me to write this it has finished.)

I've got a proper hectic week coming up, have spent most of today trying to psyche myself up to it. It's not so much the gig count (every night bar Monday) but more the driving, which shall be of heroic levels. I turned down a gig in Exmouth tomorrow night because of that - didn't want to put another 400 miles on the clock of the car that's going to be pushed to it's limits next week. I'm going to host the East Dulwich Celebrity Pub Quiz again instead which isn't nearly as far.

(TRACK: "I'm your number one fan - The Beautiful South" - this is from a surprisingly good quality live bootleg called "Charmed". The Beautiful South are my favourite band in the whole world -a genuine soundtrack to my teen/adult life. I can rarely get through a concert of theirs without blubbing at some sad memory evoking song. This is a nice song with an uplifting chorus for an insecure performer; "one thing I never said to you, one thing I never can, amongst the false applause and the deafening cheers, I'm your number one fan")

When I booked all these gigs in I sort of forgot I would actually have to go and actually do them. Looking at my diary on paper with the fees next to the gigs it is a financially rewarding week. Looking at my diary on the map it is a fucking road movie. York, Stafford, Paisley (Glasgow), Stratford-upon Avon, Brighton, London - on it goes. For some reason I got it into my head that Blackpool would be a good place to stay on the night of the York gig so have arranged that. Yes I know. Don't know what I was thinking - its about 140 miles away.

(TRACK: "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy Original radio series" - I have all the "Hitchhikers" radio episodes from the originals to the most recent. A nice thing to have on my ipod but a pain in the arse when it's on shuffle as they don't really stand up as lone tracks! Have skipped it forward to "Are you lonesome tonight - Elvis Presley" - it's the version where he loses his cool and starts to laugh after the first verse, and for the duration of the song. I defy you to be able to listen all the way through without laughing too - it's incredibly infectious, particularly when he attempts to do the talking bit in the middle about the 'world being a stage' through his own loud laughs.)

I don't want to come across as whiny about the gigs by the way. It's better than the alternative of having no gigs at all, just worried about my car is all. It's fast approaching the 100,000 miles mark, and that's when they normally decide to die on me. My last car (a Daewoo Lanos) that I loved, gave in at Gretna services in the middle of the night when I was coming home from a gig at Glasgow uni. I paid a grand to have it fixed only for the big end to go proper on the way to Bangor uni a week later. I eventually sold it to a bloke advertising in the free local paper for scrap. I got fifty quid and kept the cd player and - fuck knows why - the cigarette lighter. He said the engine couldn't be fixed. A month later I got a speeding ticket through for it - despite the fact that I had told DVLA it had been sold. I was more gutted that it was back on the road again and that the bloke who came round had been a lying cunt. I still have the spare key on my key ring (I was very attached to that car!) so if I ever see it on the street I'm just going to take it back.

(TRACK: "Lonely at the Top - Randy Newman" - again, big fan of Randy Newman - musically brilliant and lyrically poignant and hilarious in equal measure. There's a real dry, sarcastic humour going on in a lot of his songs - I very nearly ironically called my Edinburgh fringe show this year "Lonely at the Top" because I like this track so much. It will probably be the title of my show next year, so there's a possible exclusive for you...).

Anyway, look - let's all just hope that my car stands up to the test and gets me everywhere I need to be and not sit here worrying about things that haven't happened yet. I'm going to go now because "Simon Smith and the amazing dancing bear" by the Alan Price Set has just come on and I want to go and listen to it. It's my very, very favourite song. No idea what it's about (it can't be taken at face value surely? maybe it really is a song about a lad with a dancing bear...) but it always lifts me a couple of notches.

Hope all is well in the world with you x

Busy old day today - feeling pretty fucked right now but am keeping good on my commitment to write this. I have a week on the road from Friday night so thought it best to do it whilst I can.

Went for a casting in London for something or other this morning.

I quite like going to castings - I used to get pretty nervous in them but I really enjoy meeting people that are working on stuff that's about to be produced. It's interesting and helpful to get to see the sort of stuff that is being commissioned and made. I used to get put up for a lot of advert castings which I'd go to despite having no intention of ever doing the job (I was advised this was a good idea because it meant I got to meet the casting directors) but now I don't go for things I don't want to do and feel much better in myself about it. There's only so many times you can bite your tongue whilst someone asks you to read it "a bit more like Jack Black" and there's always a risk that you'll actually get offered a job you don't want and then you have the torture of financial temptation to deal with, so I've found it best to just leave them be.

I had some real horror castings for commercials. I went up for those WKD adverts that Johnny Vegas does the voice over on at one point to play, I think, a dentist. As I walked through the door, one of the panel of about 10 said very loudly "Well, he's too fat".

I'd not even said "Hello".

And the thing is, that is a perfectly valid reason for me not to get the job if they are looking for someone svelte, but they could have at least waited till I'd left rather than saying it as if I wasn't there. Just fucking balls out rude. I suppose that's the advertising world though...

Anyhow, today's casting had none of that, it was a real pleasure to do. It was for a sitcom pilot (as these things tend to be) and was a lovely laid back affair. I've never understood why some production companies make castings a stressy, clynical affair - they're never going to see people at their best under those conditions. Today, at the end of every scene that I read, the panel gave me a round of applause which I thought was a lovely thing to do. It wasn't just me they were doing it for, they did it for Jarred Christmas as well (he was in before me). They did it louder for me obviously, but I'm sure they will bear Jarred in mind for other smaller roles in the future. Had a nice chat with Jarred outside before we went in, he was on good form and seems very happy. I've always liked him. Hard not to really.

Onto tonight.

Compered a big freshers gig at Univeristy of Surrey in Guildford this evening. It was a marquee job. Now, in the past I have never enjoyed these sorts of gigs (either the marquee part of it or the freshers part of it), I've always found freshers to be a bit of a tough nut to crack. My theory is that they are so keen to be on their best (as in, most impressive to new people) behaviour that they can sometimes be quite reticent when it comes to laughing at certain things, just in case it says something about them that they don't want known.

And I don't like marquees because they are shit.

However, tonight the gig worked really nicely - had an absolute whale of a time compering and enjoyed the company of the audience (five or six hundred folk) greatly. Not least because I met a lad in the front row of the audience who wanks during night shifts at Woolworths in Camberley. That's what was said anyway - just repeating what was discovered at the gig! Don't shoot the messenger. At least I haven't said your name, have I Pat?

I think compering the Free Beer Show up in Edinburgh has done me the world of good really. I am approaching my compering jobs with a much greater sense of relaxation, and with a far more open mind to just go with what's there in the room already rather than trying to crowbar in material. When I was offered the Free Beer resident compere back in June I immediately called Russell Howard (who, of course, was my equivalent number at Late 'n' Live at the Gilded Balloon) to ask him his thoughts on the resident compere thing as, to be fair, I was stressing slightly about it. He very much favoured the approach of playing it by ear/blagging it - that opportunities to do material may arise naturally but not to do it unless that was the case - he said that once I found my feet at the gigs it would be very easy to do that. Sound and spot on advice - that was exactly what happened, but it still felt weird in my mature years taking advice from a pretty-yet-boss-eyed child.

The other good thing about doing the Free Beer Show was the fact that it allowed me to rebuild my stamina for compering. Now, this may be partly to do with the mature years (33 me now), but I was finding that I was really running out of energy when I compered gigs, normally about halfway through the middle section. By the end of compering nights I was practically on my knees with exhaustion, which is ridiculous - but it was happening nevertheless. I wont argue that I'm not the fittest of chaps, but I reckon a lot of it was to do with not being at ease with the job and thus stressing and becoming tired much quicker. Since my confidence shot from the Free Beer Show I feel I am firing on all cylinders (more or less) as a compere again.

Speaking of fitness, I am genuinely trying to get a bit of weight off at the minute though, a culmination of finding out how high my blood pressure is (medical) and the fact that I was so fat on telly last week (vanity). The problem I have is - I don't actually know how to lose weight. I've hardly eaten a thing since Friday but I was told today that starving yourself is not the way to lose weight. I'm not so sure - it worked for that bloke in the film Se7en.

I think what people mean is that it's not the best way to go about it. Thing is, believe it or not, I don't eat an awful lot anyway. I really don't though! And I know you're thinking "yeah but I bet you eat shit stuff when you do" but again - I really don't. I don't touch fried food at all (maybe a greasy cafe breakfast once every six months) and I eat sushi most days (which is supposedly a good thing).

No, my problem is the lack of exercise. Playstation, no matter how I try to convince myself, simply isn't a sport. So, I'm gonna try and do a bit of walking and what-have-you, just to see how I get on. I'm only at the planning stage at the moment, but I'm starting to get a bit of drive about me to sort out things that need sorting. I might build up to swimming at some point. I'm a really good swimmer but get embarrassed with my top off (contrary to my Edinburgh poster) plus I'm not blessed on the slack. Reasonably fine when standing to attention - just rubbish on the flop.

Plus, just imagine how incredible my breakdancing will be at next years Edinburgh fringe if I lost a stone and rebuilt some stamina.

Just to update you, here are the numbers of the things to do above that I have now done;

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 12 & 13.

That's pretty good going, especially considering I still haven't had a sleep yet. Been up for nearly two days so might have a little nap just to take the edge off, but wanted to let you know where I was up to in case you were worrying.

That's all - back to proper posts imminently.

x

As I don't have anything to report today I thought I would reveal my "To do" list for tomorrow so you can get a behind-the-scenes insight into the day to day goings on of a professional and very successful comic like me. It will also mean that tomorrow (or later today as it is now) I can report back and you can see how many of the things I managed to do or whether I just got distracted by my Playstation and put it all off till Tuesday. I know which scenario my money is on...

Here is the full list as written in my book with different coloured pages:

TO DO - Monday 18th Sept

1. Speak to Paddy at Free Beer Show about shifting that gig that's not even officialy in yet.
2. Drop form off at Doctors.
3. Call back ******** about unavailability for 8th Nov gig (I have asterixed out some promoter names to prevent them getting pestered for gigs)
4. Call ***** at **********.
5. Call Avalon with updated gig list.
6. Invoice Christian for Kings Lynn (I just did this but it's still on the list and I promised it would be the full list).
7. Pay in cheques.
8. Call bank about their massive fuck up.
9. Pick up prescription.
10. Call Mike at ******* about that charity gig you haven't written in your diary.
11. Make appointment for next blood pressure test.
12. Sort out replacement PR for Comedy Box Bristol.
13. Sort out staying at Blackpool (have done this too now).
14. Look at/learn script for casting on Tues.
15. Work out how to remove lamp shade so you can change that light bulb in the bathroom then have a fucking wash - you stink.
16. Make a start on transferring files off old, fucked laptop.

Pretty exciting eh? I'd better get some sleep now otherwise I won't be able to do these things because I'll still be comatose.

If anyone wants to book me for gigs, today would be a good day to do it as I'll have a worky head on - doesn't happen often.

Yes I know it's a disappointing post but at least I did something.

It still counts as writing.

No gig tonight - been watching telly and drinking again. I think I might become an alcoholic for a bit - just to see. Loads of successful comedians have had a drink problem so maybe it helps?

I watched the repeat of yesterday's Tonight with Jonathon Ross. I like Terry Wogan (who was a guest on it), I find him very funny.

Last year I was 'lucky' enough to do some TV warm up work for that Nigella programme that was on in the daytimes. Despite my very best efforts it wasn't re-commissioned. It really wasn't an easy warm-up to do. See, I'm pretty much working class through and through, from a socialist background and I hold many of the principles of socialism close to my heart (but don't ask me to tell you what they are because I've not thought it through to the stage of discussion - let's just say I backed the miners to the point that I still beep my horn when I drive past the gates of the now-demolished Parkside Colliery in Newton-le-Willows because that's where the pickett line was, and when Thatcher dies you'll know about it from the cheers coming from wherever I am). Most of the audience for Nigella weren't really my sort of folk, nor I theirs. Lots of middle aged toffs clutching copies of Nigella Lawson's latest culinary literary masterpiece on the off-chance they got to meet the lady herself and get it signed whilst asking after her father.

I've been asked by people what Nigella was like and, to be fair, I really couldn't tell you, I only did one show as a fill-in - you're probably best off asking Al Pitcher as he did the majority of the show warm-ups - she never spoke to me. She smiled at me, but didn't speak. In all fairness to her, from all accounts she was very nervous about presenting that show and so a bit preoccupied with that. She certainly didn't seem rude, just...well...like I said...nervy.

I was nervy too as it goes, given the amount of sneering I was getting from the afore-mentioned toff brigade as I attempted to warm them up. If I'd had a full bottle of Calor and a flame thrower I'd have still been hard pushed to get them warmed. I'd also felt a bit overlooked by the production crew and people running the thing - to be honest, I felt like I was in the way and I had a nagging suspicion that people were rolling their eyes behind my back after my impertinent questions such as "when do I go on?".

One person however did look out for me; Terry Wogan.

Sir Terry had just been knighted (or it might have just been announced he was going to - not sure) and was the special studio guest on that day's show.

Two words about Terry Wogan -Charm Incarnate.

And about as supportive as anyone could possibly be - he played along with my fucking about, bantered brilliantly with me from the set, 'knighting' me with a rolling pin, and not only did he make a point of introducing himself to me before the recording, he also came and found me after the recording to thank me and wish me well. The only person in the whole building to do that was Sir Terry. None of the gossipy journalist women appearing on the show did it (I don't recall any of their names but you know the ones - they're always on them list shows talking about how brilliant Den and Angie were), nor did any of the production crew. And before you say "Well did you with them?", let me tell you, I did fucking try!

Now - don't be getting me wrong - I am aware that I was nowhere near the most important person in the building - in many ways given the response I was getting out of most of the audience I was possibly the most irrelevant (you'll notice I keep saying 'most' of the audience - there were a fair few fans there to see Mr Wogan, they are called TOG's and they played along wonderfully and were - for want of a better phrase - salt of the Earth). I don't know how much of a hassle it was for Terry Wogan to spend a few minutes being kind to me, but it certainly did the trick in so far as the respect it gleaned from me.

And here's the thing - Terry Wogan was the most successful person in that studio bar none. That's telling isn't it?

A few years back I was researching a biography about Les Dawson (as I promised, I'll tell you ALL about it at some stage on here) and had to do a major mail shot to lots of performers who had worked with Les to see if they would help out with my research. Some of the people included on the list you probably wont remember, and there's no point mentioning them as they either didn't reply or replied rudely. The two quickest and most positive responses came in the form of personal letters from David Jason and John Cleese. By a massive 'coincidence', once again, they were the most successful people (career wise, in both credibility and longevity) out of the hundreds of people I wrote to. That's telling isn't it?

Wherever they played, or whatever film sets they were on, Oliver Hardy used to make a point of getting autographs of all the other performers, often running up theatre stairs and visiting every dressing room in order to complete his task. How much of a buzz must that have been? To be a supporting artist and have Babe Hardy ask you for your autograph? How good would you have felt? How much would it improve your confidence and, as a result, the strength of your performance? How fucking high would be the esteem you would hold Oliver Hardy in after he did that? That's telling isn't it?

I once accosted Melvyn Bragg when, by chance, I bumped into him whilst making a short film doing the character of "Ray Peacock". Top marks to Rob Rouse who was filming it for getting the camera on quick on that occasion - he'd not pressed the right button when I knocked on the window of John Prescott's car that was stuck in traffic outside Westminster and got a v-sign off him. Anyhow, as I say, I accosted Melvyn on the South Bank (could that have been more perfect?) and asked him, in character, if he would consider doing a South Bank Show Special about me. His response could have been anything - he could have smirked and walked off, he could have ignored me completely, but he didn't. He played along telling me that it was something they'd consider and that they'd have to look into it before shouting "Not really!" and running away laughing. Brilliant, and as side note, do you know what really impressed me about the whole experience? He took off his glove before shaking my hand. I thought that was fucking fantastic. I've watched the tape of it loads of times, he does it without even thinking, just polite without a thought. He's been successful for a long time hasn't he Melvyn Bragg? That's telling isn't it?

I know this post seems like I'm just doing loads of name-dropping, but that's clearly not what it is about, I credit you with enough intelligence to get the point I am making. I don't know any of these people - they came in and out of my life in a matter of minutes (with the exception of Oliver Hardy who I am still regularly in touch with), but each one, for the same reason, made a profound impact on me. It's an old cliche and all that, but it's really true; There's nowt costs nowt but manners.

Roy Barraclough was once incredibly rude to me.

Frank Carson once told me to piss off at a motorway service station (I was eight at the time).

Whatever happened to them?

Tonight my gig was housed by the Kings Lynn Corn Exchange which is in Kings Lynn which is in...erm...not sure.

Is it Norfolk?

I think it is actually.

I didn't pay much attention to the road signs, choosing instead to put myself in the capable hands of my GPS machine (I've learned my lesson after the M25/Chertsey fiasco the other night). I was also in a stinking mood after learning how high my blood pressure was at a visit to the doctors this afternoon. I had to have it taken twice because my doctor thought the first time it was a mistake - she frowned, made me lie down and ordered me not to talk whilst she took it again. I felt, perversely, vaguely smug after the second reading and it was all I could do not to smirk and say "told you" to her (I didn't though).

But anyway, tonight's gig. Events of interest are as follows (not neccesarily in chronological order mind).

1. Great compere Jo(h?)n Richardson asks the audience what there is to do in Kings Lynn. Audience member shouts "Spot the English bloke". Other comics hold their heads in their hands whilst an alarmingly large portion of the 300 strong audience cheer and applaud the statement. The tone is set.

2. A debate breaks out amongst a hen night of girls in their early twenties whilst I am onstage about whether I was the bloke out of Doctors. Even after I tell them I was, they still argue it. I allow it however because they were 'fit' (I think that's what the youngsters say). My lecherous ardour for them is dampened dramatically later on in the evening when fantastic headliner Duncan Oakley asks audience if anyone has kids and they all put their hands up. For fuck's sake - they must have all been 23 tops...

3. A man shouts at me whilst I am onstage "We're not interested" after I tell him and his big gang off for chatting loudly during the show. The majority of the audience boo him for his comment but it still strikes me as rather a universally cruel thing to say to somebody, no matter what they are doing. I take comfort in the fact that, whilst he's being a shouty dickhead, his wife is gazing up at me onstage with dreamy eyes, no doubt thinking "Why couldn't I have ended up with someone like that rather than this imbecilic cunt I married in madness?"

4. I refer to an audience member as a "Spastic" and there is a collective intake of breath. I apologise cheekily and get away with it purely on looks. But, I do feel very strongly that the word 'spastic' should be reclaimed for the purpose of insulting someone. It's hypocritical to call it offensive as the disabled have long since dropped any recognition of that as a descriptive term, 'spastic' no longer means 'disabled person' because it is not a recognised term - it just means...erm...spastic. That's my argument and I'm sticking with it.

That's pretty much what happened - I left before Duncan had finished closing the show (he was doing very well when I left) so don't know if anything else worth mentioning happened. From my point of view, I really should have died on my arse in that gig, but as I was brimming with a "fuck it" attitude when I arrived that by the time I left the stage I was rightly hailed by 80% - actually call it 85% - of the audience as a comedy god. Okay, the god thing might be pushing it but I got a big old cheer so they liked me.

I'll do my material there should I ever deem them worthy of a return visit from me.

I'm going to go now as I have a slightly messy head this evening so have decided to get hammered. Fuck the high blood presure for another night! It wont take too long as I'm not a natural boozer, but I have a bottle of vodka screaming at me to come and play and a headful of demonic thoughts and resentments to toy with.

Oh come on...admire my dark side...you wouldn't want me funny ALL the time surely?

Phew - not easy this 'being a celebrity' lark...

Just got back from my first PA (Personal Appearance) since becoming famous after my career-defining appearance on Doctors earlier today. Tonight I hosted the quiz at East Dulwich Comedy at the Hob pub in Forest Hill (it's only confusing if you let it be).

It's a good crack hosting that quiz - I've done it many, many times and always enjoy it. It's particularly lovely that you can go onstage and just read the questions if you so desire, there's no requirement to be funny so if you are it comes as a bonus. I had some friends there tonight who (rather embarrassingly) ended up actually winning it. It screamed of 'fix' but it absolutely wasn't - there was a tie breaker at the end to decide who won it and I was relieved by that -I couldn't have fixed that. One of the rounds tonight was called "Old Jokes" and basically involved me reading a feed-line and the teams in the quiz supplying the punchline. It's not the same thing as a joke competition at a comedy gig because there is actually an existing 'correct' answer. My favourite tonight was; What lies at the bottom of the sea and quivers? The answer was meant to be "A nervous wreck". However the team that wrote as their answer "Steve Irwins aorta" also got a point (and a round of applause as it goes).

So - I was going to tell you about Doctors wasn't I? Even though there's probably nobody reading this because you are all watching it again on video and marvelling at how gorgeous I am and not being able to understand why, no matter what setting you put your widescreen on, I am still so fat. There's a very simple answer;

It was a conspiracy by the BBC to discredit me.

They were obviously worried that I would be too attractive and play havoc with the hormones of all the stay-home mums and students watching the programme to the point that they would be unable to pay their TV licence fee because they were simply too horny, and so the BBC cleverly wrote it into my part that in practically every scene I should be either lying down or slouching on a sofa or bed thus maximising my double-chinnage.

I had some lovely texts and stuff afterwards but I think my favourite was the one I received from my temporarily-erstwhile fellow blogger Stephen Grant who sent a text that simply said: "TV adds 10 lbs".

So watching the programme today allowed me to mentally look back on my experience of actually making the episode. It was a surreal few days really. What you should know about Doctors (and 'soaps' in general by all accounts) is that they turn everything around very quick. On one of the days filming I did, if memory serves, nine scenes - which is apparently a lot by normal telly standards, you really speed through it. So you want to be at your best because there's really not much room for fucking up.

It didn't help that I had a real medical examination on set at the beginning of one of the days. I should stress I didn't ask for it, I just got it. I was doing a scene in a hospital bed and was wired up to the heart machine and the blood pressure taker thing (I don't know what it's called). Now, I've always assumed when I've watched medical drama stuff on telly that it's all just set dressing, but no, you are actually wired up to a real machine. The pulse thing going across the machine is really my real pulse in real life, ditto the heart rate and blood pressure. It was pretty off-putting (not to mention scary) to be told at 7 in the morning by the on-set medical adviser that your blood pressure is dangerously highand that you should see your real doctor asap. Two minutes later people were looking around to see where the erratic and manic bleeping noise was coming from - turned out it was my fucking heart rate on the machine going mental as I panicked about my impending stroke.

The other daunting thing about doing an episode of a show with a regular cast is you really don't know how you will be welcomed when you get there. I've heard horror stories about certain core cast members on Eastenders for example, who make "Guest" performers' lives an absolute fucking misery, being rude and curt and tutting at inexperience. Thankfully, this dreaded scenario couldn't of been further from existence at my short stint at BBC Birmingham for Doctors.

The regular cast member I spent the most time with was a young lady named Donnaleigh Bailey. She plays Michelle who is a nurse at the surgery and a more delightful, welcoming and funny individual you could not wish to meet. She is also (according to a man with a wonky eye who recognised me at a garage in St Albans at 6.30 this evening) "really tasty". DL and I had a really good laugh from the second we met on set, no airs and graces, no snobbery, just mutual piss-taking from dusk till dawn. A proper nice lass. And the thing is - she's no doubt done god-knows how many episodes since filming the one I was in, she shouldn't even remember doing it, but today we swapped texts for hours (mainly mutual back slapping and me being derisory about Birmingham - which of course as a native she rose to immediately - they're so territorial these brummies aren't they?) so the after-show care is second to none too. I think she's really cool and she made a potentially nervy experience an absolute joy to be a part of instead. AND I got to do my first screen kiss with her too. I mean, okay, some people on set insisted we called it mouth-to-mouth as my character was having a cardiac arrest at the time, but you can see the sexual tension on the screen. I was very professional though during the filming of that scene, and only ruined one take by putting my arms around her as she did the CPR.

I've really took the piss out of being in Doctors. On the back of the flyer for my fringe show we made a really big deal about it - obviously ironic - which I have continued on here with my little pretend bits about it making me famous and being my big break and all that, and of course, I've done this because it's a daytime soap watched by students (I imagine), not taken too seriously and considered by some to be a bit rubbish. This is not my opinion by the way, just deducing that from the fact that when I have told people I am in an episode they have raised their eyebrows and more-often-than-not laughed with derision.

When you meet the people that work on it though, both in front of and behind the cameras, you can't help but have a real respect for them and, by association, the programme itself. They work REALLY hard, not just a bit, this is all the time, and they genuinely care about making it good. Just little things like the attention to detail by the lighting guys for example - I mean - they go way beyond what they could merely just get away with on a daytime programme.

So for all my piss-taking and all my ironic boasting about being in it, I would like to go on the record as saying that I actually AM proud to have been associated (even for such a short time) with a production that is so cherished by its creators and contributors. I'd be on it again in a heartbeat (if they could make me look slimmer please). It was dead good laugh and I'm happy with it.

Doctors is cool...and not in an ironic way.

And now all that remains for me to tell you is the Edinburgh secret I found out, that I promised to impart to you a few days back if you recall?

Ready?

I really had no idea about what I am going to tell you now. It had bothered me for years, but I couldn't work it out. Then I found out and now I am going to tell you...

This is brilliant what I am about to tell you.

Ok...here it is:

I know how to make the 'sauce' you get in Scottish chip shops.

No fucking lie! You can't buy it in shops, and I had looked. On returning from Edinburgh in 1999 after the first Big And Daft show, where I had been literally living on chip shop food for the month, I searched the supermarkets for the elusive brown sauce. I even bought some that I thought were it but were they bollocks. It's haunted me ever since, but this year I found out how to make it and now I am going to tell you.

This may be the greatest and most revelatory post in the history of the Chortle forums.

Here's what you do:

You buy some CHEAP brown sauce. And I mean proper cheap economy stuff. If you spend more than 30p on it then you've got the wrong stuff.

Then, you buy some vinegar. Again, the cheapo stuff.

Then, you mix them together until you get the consistency that it is in the Scottish chippy.

And that's it! So so simple!

That is my gift to the people on here who are unfortunate enough to live South of the Scottish border. I hope it enriches your lives between Augusts.

No, put your purse away, I told you, it's a gift...

xx

Just had the journey from hell...it ended with me killing a shit load of frogs.

I headlined Chertsey Comedy Club tonight. It really shouldn't work that gig; it's in an odd shaped room filled by an odd-looking audience. It does work though - really well. Had a lovely time and I came in merely 20 minutes beyond my allocated time slot of 25 minutes. I stayed for a quick drink with the owner and some of the bar staff then made my merry way home.

Well I tried to, but in my infinite wisdom I took the M25 the wrong way. I only noticed this when I hit Kent - I was truly in a fucking world of my own driving tonight, not concentrating at all, my head just swimming with other stuff. If I'd put my GPS machine on I wouldn't have done it, but I got there without it, so naturally assumed I would get back without it too. I turned it on and it started working just as I drove down into the Dartford tunnel, immediately losing it's signal and not working again till I got to Potters Bar (via Waltham Abbey as the M25 was shut between junctions 25-26 - could there be a shitter place in the world to get diverted off the motorway than into Waltham Abbey? What a fucking hell hole...hate it...all right I admit I used to go out with a girl from there and it's the association I dislike rather than the place. I feel the same way about Wandsworth for the same reason...well, and for the reason that Wandsworth IS a shit tip for real but anyway I massively digress). At Potters Bar I knew how to get home anyway so my GPS machine was worth 100% of fuck all this evening.

So, the frogs...

I left the high blood pressure of London for the Beta blocker that is St Albans about three years back. I was getting pissed off with the traffic in London and the fact that it was taking me at least an hour getting out of the South/North circular roads to even start my journeys to gigs. There is a winding country road to get to my house in St Albans. I love that road - it's very calming and I usually drop the car window as I get to it and breathe in some normal country air. I didn't tonight because there was a massive thunder and lightning storm as I got nearby. As I turned one of the corners on the lane the entire road in front of me was covered in something. Obviously there was lots of big old puddles from the torrential storm but this was something else.

Hundreds of frogs.

And I mean literally hundreds - see I put it in itallics to emphasise that I'm not lying. Swear to god it was like fucking Magnolia. The road was far too wet for me to slam on the brakes so over I went. The noise they made beneath my wheels was awful. I've only ever heard a worse noise once and that was when I took off the heads of three consecutive rabbits in a line whilst driving through Frodsham in 1992.

I got in at 3am having left Chertsey at midnight. Should have been in by half twelve tops. Not only was I dramatically delayed I was also now a murderer. That was my night.

Not my best story but I never said this blog would be any good. In fact, I'm pretty sure I said it probably wouldn't be so you're the fool for reading this far even though you'd been warned.

And anyway, it doesn't matter if this blog isn't any good because by this time tomorrow I will be a great celebrity and serious actor, respected by my peers and fielding offers from the big nobs. Tomorrow lunch time I shall be appearing on the great BBC flagship factual drama series Doctors doing some great acting and looking brilliant and slim. And if you don't believe me you can just watch it and that will prove it all, and if you miss it for some god-knows-why reason you can just look in the cast lists in the Radio Times and see my name - it's definitely there because I just checked in South Mimms Services. It's not my 'Ray Peacock' name, it's my other one, erm, 'Ian something or other'.

So there you are.

Tomorrow, after the programme has aired (it's on about 2pm I think) I shall be posting an entry giving you some fantastic anecdotes from the set, so you normal people can get a bit of an idea what it's like being great and a celebrity like I will be. I would have done it today but I have a headache and I'm not really allowed to give anything away about it before it's on - for example, if I start telling you about the bit where I was in a hospital bed then that would give it away that my character ends up in hospital which could spoil your enjoyment of the programme and take away the element of surprise. I'm not saying my character does end up in a hospital bed - just saying that I can't tell you about the bit in the hospital bed till tomorrow.

If it even exists.

So, anyway, was gonna tell you about my gigs I've done but they seem like ages ago now so I'll just tell you that I headlined a gig in Christchurch (which is in Dorset and not Canterbury as I thought - I was thinking of Christchurch College in Canterbury, which, trivia fans, I am banned for life from, but I don't care as I have never met a gang of more objectionable cunts in my life than the students at that university that night that they turned the mic off on me for mentioning the Sept 11 incident so they can all fuck off - they sometimes book me by accident through Avalon and I have to remind them that they banned me and they go "oh yeah...sorry" which tells you all you need to know really, doesn't it?).

The Christchurch (in Dorset) gig was fine eventually - it was at the "Thomas Tripp Late and Live" and as an audience they don't really like it when it's only the act talking. They like to be involved a bit, so as soon as you talk to them and allow them to reply it's a piece of piss.

That was my first gig back after the Fringe which I like to call the 'adjustment' gig. Most people do a load of other late gigs up in Edinburgh as well as their hour show, but I was limited in doing that because my show was at eleven and I was compering the Free Beer Show - so doing the Christchurch (in Dorset) gig was really the first 30 mins set I had done for fucking ages. That's why they got the first 15 minutes of my Edinburgh show and then felt the wrath of my improvising tongue for the remainder of the show. It was nice to get the 'adjustment' gig out of the way.

The following night I did "Bracknell Comedy Cellar" which is an almost unfairly easy gig to perform at. If you're half competent you will shine there. If you have a good gig they treat you like some sort of god. It was nice to feel the latter after receiving only begrudging respect from Fringe audiences. If I was only allowed to do one more gig it would be there. Or East Dulwich Comedy Club (which I am on at on Thurs night - hosting the Celebrity Pub Quiz - don't forget I will actually be a celebrity by then so it's fine).

During the interval before I went on at Bracknell the staff were debating whether or not to chuck out a group of people in the audience who were being a bit gobby - and not in a well-timed way, quite the opposite in fact. I asked them not to throw them out. In fact I actually said "Leave them to me, I will deal with them myself" which is a line that Darth Vader says in Return of the Jedi which I have been wanting to use in everyday life since 1983. I was in that sort of mood you see. I often miss the sheer release of the aggression I was able to vent under the thin veil of theatre when I was doing my resting creation of Ray Peacock (the character thing - flat cap? Shouty? Oh, fuck off, you remember...) and the said audience members got it bad. It had been pent up in me since January which is the last time I did the 'character'. The rude audience members had to be carried out in the next interval.

The other thing I found out in Bracknell was really cool;

Last year I did the Edinburgh and Beyond Comedy Tour along with Russell Howard, Russell Kane and Reg D Hunter. At around the time we did the date in Bracknell at the theatre we had been on tour for a few weeks and were all tiring of our own (and each others) normal sets so at any given opportunity would try something different. It didn't always work mind, at the Lemon Tree in Aberdeen I didn't do a word of material and instead took on the entire testosterone-filled room of shouting Scottish folk in a proper stand off (It was a draw. In fact it was such a draw that I left the gig in the interval in fear and went back to the hotel. It was shit. The gig I mean, the hotel was lovely).

Anyway, at the Ed & Beyond gig in Bracknell I had got ever so slightly drunk on the rider before I went on. A 'rider' is free stuff like sandwhiches and beer and pop that (good) venues provide you with. Getting a bit typsy is not something I'm proud of, and it only took three bottles of Becks as I don't really drink. I remember Russell Howard bringing me on with the words "fuck, he's pissed, watch out - this could be painful for you". I don't think he meant it would be rubbish, I think he meant that it would be my character going full pelt in a comedically agressive drunken rant. Either way, it was truly prophetic.

I'm going to tell you the rest of it sort of back to front.

I felt really guilty after that gig. I even cried a little bit in the hotel because I thought I'd ruined someones life.

There was a couple in the audience who weren't a couple, but it was clear as I spoke to them from the stage that the bloke really liked the lass. Now, I have been in situations in my life where I have fancied a girl and took her out and never told her my real feelings and done things like take her to shows and stuff purely on the off-chance that she would eventually be sufficiently charmed (or worn down) by me to get to the snog stage. I also know from experience that once you establish a 'friendship' prior to the romantic stuff, the romantic stuff rarely follows as they like you as a friend and it would be "really weird - like kissing my brother or something".

So I thought that I could help this guy out, this kindred soul, I could be match maker and sort it for him.

I got them both on stage. It soon became clear that the lass really didn't want more than friendship with him. I tried to tie her to a chair so she HAD to listen to what he had to say. I shouted into the wings for something to tie her with. Russell Howard threw out some Jaffa Cakes to which I replied "I wanted Gaffa tape not Jaffa cakes" which I am still to this day very, very proud of.

Anyhow, I encouraged the lass to kiss him. She was very embarrassed and clearly icky about it and I was feeling as much discomfort as her and the audience but just kept pushing. It was desperation for salvation from the awful situation I had created. She agreed under duress to kiss him for us and he went in for the proper kiss which she pulled away from with a nervous fixed grin. I forget how my gig ended - I recall that I did kiss him as a sort of consolation but it wasn't the big romantic finale I'd hoped for. It was theatre, but only because it was uncomfortable.

I felt like such a cunt afterwards - really did.

The thing was, as comedians we sometimes forget when we are taking the piss out of people from the stage that we are fucking with their lives. All it takes is one well aimed moment of gold put-down and they forever have that repeated to them by their mates long after we as comedians have got the fuck out of dodge. When he arrived at the gig that night, that bloke still had the hope of getting with that girl. Even though it seemed to all right-thinking people that he was wasting his time (and money) on her, he still had the dream of it. Until I trampled all over it for a few cheap gags and a couple of hundred quids blood money. It had a profound affect on me and I felt awful about it for the longest time.

I was thinking about it when I got the Comedy Cellar gig the other night (the theatre is on the same 'compound' as the Comedy Cellar). After my gig I was told by several sources that the same couple had attended the Comedy Cellar gig since the Ed & Beyond theatre one. They had got it together and are now a proper couple. I felt like crying again (in a good way). Things ocassionally take time to come to fruition. It's took nearly a year for me to feel okay about it but it's worked out in the end.

Sometimes I worry too much.

Look at how they all come running back! All the Chortle bloggers!

See - I told you - something has happened to us. We all thought that doing these blogs would just be a pain-in-the-arse publicity thing for our shows but noooooo, the shows have finished now and yet still we come here. I'm telling you - these blogs are the width of a midget away from becoming a cult. What the fuck is going on? There really is a deep psychological thing happening here but as I only went to Bretton Hall I don't feel sufficiently educated to attempt a proper intelligent analysis so will leave it to someone else to explain in their blog. My money is on Stephen Grant...

Anyway back to business.

Every time I do a Fringe run September is always the same. You'd think I would have learned by now but I've never really been the sort of person to do the whole learning from experience thing. It goes roughly along the lines of:

i. Get really stressy and unbearable to be around from approx February onwards.

ii. Convince myself when I should be accepting gigs for after the Fringe that I will need a 'rest' so don't take the offers (secretly believing that I will have been so brilliant and successful during my fringe run that some sort of exciting and lucrative industry offer will require my uninterrupted time at this point)

iii. Go to Edinburgh - do fringe - get bitter and twisted to the point of being inspired.

iv. Get back in September - chomping at the bit to go and do gigs with this new found edgy confidence. And to enable me to buy the luxuries in life like bread and shoes*.

v. Have few gigs in September because I thought I would need a 'rest'. This had also spilled over into October, November and all the other months that there are.

The good news is, I have been driven and self-motivated enough to start filling up my diary, and it is looking far better than it has since...well...ever. October is pretty much full, November is well on the way, December is 'all right' and I have some biggies in the new year too. It's pretty important not to get complacent as the gigs start to come in. The easiest thing for me to do now would be to put my feet up and feel very pleased with myself for beginning to turn around my fortunes, but I haven't done that so far. I've set myself a target of getting a gig a day. Literally just one gig a day. I've been smashing that target so far - if I was on commission I'd have a healthy bonus.

But anyway, this is all just a long winded way of explaining to you why I've not been too busy gig-wise since returning from the beauty of Edinburgh. I've actually only done two gigs. And I was going to tell you about them but I've spent so much time banging on about why I've only done a couple that I now feel that going on to explain what happened at them would make this post far too long for the casual reader (which is all I get on here I reckon) so I'll tell you about them in another post later on.

I was going to tell you that secret I found out in Edinburgh as well, wasn't I?

That'll have to wait too - I promise I will tell you imminently.

*the most beautiful Les Dawson line. I really should tell you about Les Dawson projects I was involved with at some point. People regularly ask me about the Les Dawson stuff so if I explain it all on here I won't have to keep telling people what happened. Remind me to do that if I forget.

That was a bit wanky that last post, eh? Just shows you what the Edinburgh fringe does to your head...

So, what the fuck am I doing here again?

Well.

Straight after Edinburgh, that Steve Chortle bloke sent us emails mooting the idea of doing blogs all year round. Well, I say 'us' - I only know for a fact that he sent them to me and Stephen Grant, but I assume it's an open offer. Or maybe it's first come first served? That's why I'm here at 5.30am getting my dibs in. I shouldn't have even mentioned the emails should I? That might cause trouble if he doesn't want other people to do them... Oh well, too late now...

My initial reaction was to reject the offer. I really enjoyed doing my Edinburgh blog - far more than I'll ever let on publicly - but the thing about it is, there was something immediate to talk about everyday. I didn't think I could manage to keep it going on normal days. Plus, I may have been starting to use it like a cheap psychiatrist and it was getting to the point that I HAD to do my blog which didn't sit entirely well with me. Especially when you catch yourself, as I have a few times over the past few weeks, missing it.

Then I mentioned the all year blog thing in passing to my manager and he said it would be a "good thing" to do professionally. I think he thinks it will keep me occupied and believing I am doing 'work' so I'll stop whining about not having enough gigs. I know that there's probably benefits, not least of all like Richard Herring's brilliant "warming up" blog on his website, it would get me writing every day rather than sitting glued to the Playstation (which is on downstairs right now - Lego Star Wars II which I am ploughing through and yes I know it's mainly for children but I quite like that in a game plus I find it charming not like the Reservoir Dogs game which I completed in a sulky night last week whilst muttering "this is shit" over and over before flogging it on Ebay the next day - damn Tesco's no-returns policy on games). That said, unlike Richard Herring when he started his one, I don't actually have a book commissioned to be warming up to writing. I wrote my first novel last year but according to the publishing people it isn't "high concept" enough for a first novel so I have to write another one with that rather broad critique in mind.

Then there is the people that have told me they miss reading the blog, which is always such a nice thing to hear. Like, genuinely it is. I really didn't think anyone would bother with it, so when people said (and say) nice things it's lovely really.

Anyway - I'm waffling. Look - point is - I'm going to ressurect this blog, that's what I'm getting round to saying. I don't know what I'll be talking about on my no-gig days, but you can bet your bottom dollar - just like the Edinburgh one - it will be self-indulgent as fuck and a pain in the arse for me to keep doing. I'm not promising EVERY day - not a cat in hell's chance of that - but I'll do it regularly and pointlessly enough for people to get annoyed with it and start slagging me.

As a reward for me doing this, Steve Bennett has kindly agreed to put an up-to-date photo on my review page, update my "History" bit, and have a photo of me pop-up whenever there is a link to a story about Rob Rouse. In an ideal world I would have had Steve buy me a new laptop in a sort of golden handcuffs deal because mine is truly shagged (even my rich computer whizzkid younger brother couldn't fix it but then again he kept saying that he was a 'programmer' so wouldn't be able to, whatever that means) but I don't think it's gonna happen.

So there you go - that's a sort of reintroduction done.

If you don't like it - don't read it.

(Although the next post will be especially exciting because I am going to tell you a secret that I found out in Edinburgh that I think will be of great interest to very many comedians that were up at the Fringe. It's something that I didn't know already which is saying something cos I tend to have all the inside info normally. Pretty fucking exciting eh? )