12/10/06
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My sleep patterns continue to disrupt an already complicated existence.
Slight improvement on yesterday though I feel. To update, I DID see the night out without returning to slumber, my tiredness hitting me at around 10 am this morning (which, rather conveniently, was my on-set call time). I necked a can of Red Bull and went about my business. As I have been eating healthy and cut out things like Red Bull for the last few weeks, drinking it was a real shock to the system, like drinking acid. Just shows you how we get our bodies accustomed to things that probably don't belong in them.
So, as I said yesterday, my morning consisted of being filmed stalking a pretty French girl, played by Delia Remy. I don't have any lines in the location stuff, so it wasn't that difficult to perform under my lethargy. The scene was set in a newsagents in High Wycombe, and we pretty much took over the whole shop although, unusually for a shoot, the shop remained open.
It's strange being in someone's workplace for an alien reason, you find yourself doing things without thinking which, if you were there for the normal real-life reasons (like being a customer or something) would be totally unacceptable. Things like throwing swiss rolls at other performers or openly displaying the inside of porn mags. On that subject incidentally, I was going to tell you what shop we were actually in but I think they may be breaking the law with some of the pornography they had in there. Proper hardcore stuff which I was sure you were only able to stock in a licenced sex shop.
I was in my element...Surprised I did any work at all.
We wrapped at around midday, just as the thunder and lightning storm that had accompanied our shooting decided to move on to pastures new - St Albans as it turned out, following me home.
Got in, had some smoked salmon (my present faddy food of choice - have eaten three packs this week so far), and fell into bed, determined to only sleep till maybe 6pm. I woke up properly half an hour ago, and can't actually work out whether this is a good thing or not. I have a meeting at Avalon in London at midday, so I am daring to believe that I should be ok.
I am meeting with Steve Morrison, who is a comedy writer I have briefly worked with before, and our mutual manager has decided to throw us together on a project in a sort of Blind Date scenario. I think the idea behind it is that it will mean we mutually spur each other on thus taking the pressure off ourselves singularly to keep things moving. I'm not so sure this will work. The last time Steve and I worked together we spent most of the time drawing pictures of people with Downs Syndrome having adventures.
I'm not entirely sure I should have told you that. Oh well, too late now.
For some reason, I get into little habits like that (drawing people with downs syndrome). It is purely for reasons of offence, and an (up until now) private occurence - normally between myself and somebody else.
For example, when we were rehearsing for "Ray Peacock & Son" in 2005, Isy Suttie and I spent a ridiculously long period of time swapping emails where we had found pictures online of people with white stuff over them and adding to them the legend "That's not come". It was usually people with milk or mayo on their faces, the only rule being that it couldn't actually be come. It came about because I had shown someone a clip of a bukkake film online (look it up if you don't know - but don't do it at work, wait till you get home) and they had watched it in silence before declaring "that's not come". Don't know why it was so funny, but it creased up both myself and Isy and spawned the trend.
I think it runs along the same lines of the "Aristocrats" joke that was documented so definitively in Provenza's film of the same name, just the idea of trying to shock your peers for the sake of it, the true challenge and ultimate reward seeing the look of horror on the other persons face as you reveal your latest creation.
You may feel this makes me a very bad man, but I would beg to differ - I think it shows that I am unhindered by artistically-restrictive social constraints as to what is a suitable subject for humour.
All right, fuck it, I'm a very bad man.
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I hope you caught her!
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