19/11/07
'I Feel Like a Pig Sh*t Inside My Head' -
Categories: Yes the title is my favourite quote from 'Withnail and I', which quite aptly describes my current state of play. This blog arrives a couple of days late as I spent yesterday suffering from a hangover of such high proportions that looking at the computer screen was like undergoing Nazi torture. Hangovers used to be alright. I used to be able to wake up, down some concoction of painkillers and some water, go back to bed and wake up strolling through my day as per usual. Nowadays however a hangover renders me completely useless in every way like some sort of victim of a serious accident. I often worry that I will be burgled whilst hungover, or worse still the UK will be attacked on New Years Day when no one is capable of defending themselves remotely, merely groaning for the enemies to perhaps use quieter weapons as we have a steaming migraine.
The hangover is still evident today, and in a moment of sheer stupidity I thought I would head to my recently joined gym to 'sweat it out', which is what meat headed fools tell you to do. Consequently, I now feel both sick and achey, doubling the badness. I hate people who swear that exercise cures all. If this was true, people would head to fitness first instead of Lourdes and collect bottles of fat men's sweat from the steam room in hope of ridding themselves of diseases. I have yet to witness any of this.
This was all the result of a good night out so I cant complain too much. This was my first weekend without gigs since before Edinburgh. While many comics would be in fear of a Saturday without earnings, I am lazy and relished the fact that I might actually be able to socialise with real people for once. Part one of Saturday evening was spent at a school re-union. The sound of such an event sent the fear of god into me, worrying that I would get stuck speaking to all those people I have been trying to lose contact with for 10 years. It is with the creation of facebook that these very individuals are able to find you and continue to harass you pretending that you are still their 'friend'. However, despite these worries, it was a really nice night. Just about everyone there was someone who I had wanted to see and catch up with and many of them are now doing interesting things, which meant I could avoid the subject of comedy for a good amount of time. I was hoping there would be some people who had truly failed at everything just so on my own personal 'life status' graph I could give myself a few extra points, but this didn't happen. Instead there were several speech therapists, social workers, teachers and generally things that help other people in life. This meant that in fact I had to deduct points as the only people I ever really help are those drunk tw*ts to realise it is ok to shout at someone on a stage, and to make the occasional person feel that its OK to laugh at a cancer gag. This is definitely not in the same league as helping someone to talk again. However, at the same time, I get extra points as I can sleep in every day and they cant. Ha ha, gutted.
We all met in the pub we used to drink in underage whilst at school, probably for the first time since we have been legally allowed. They have now renovated it and turned it into one of these gastro pubs that plague London, promising trendy food and classy spirits while all many of us really want is a ploughmans, pies and pint. Still this did not dampen the proceedings and if anything the fact it had changed made us feel slightly less weird for being there. Weirder still was that there were no underage people in the pub now, which means we wouldn't have got away with all our boozing were we kids now. Good timing on our behalf I think, but at the same time, its probably all key to the early stages of ruining my liver eventually resulting in my weekend of pain. Once again, swings and roundabouts.
On Thursday I went for lunch with my Dad, settling for an OK sandwich and chips after searching for a pub with real food for 45 minutes. Damn those Gastro pubs once again. No one wants an 'Aubergine Tagine' with a pint! Don't you understand? Anyway, on our walk home, we witnessed a small road accident involving a lady in a brand new mini and a cyclist. The mini had pulled out of a road as the cyclist was going past, causing the cyclist to fly of his bike, and land chin first onto the pavement. At first we were worried and ran over to check if he was OK, at which point we both rewound what we'd seen in our heads to realise that the cyclist and car had never made contact and instead the cyclist took a purposeful dive before the mini was anywhere nearby. The woman got out of the car to check and the man, with his profusely bleeding chin called her a 'F*cking b*tch' over and over before kicking in her wing mirrors and cycling off refusing help. Everyone was left rather baffled and I feel that that man deserves the 'Arsehole of The Week award'. Hurting yourself then damaging someone else's vehicle because of it is quite impressively stupid. For the first time in my life I wish I'd had the sense of a 15 year old and videoed it on my phone. That'd be at least a few thousand Youtube hits I'm sure.
Some new material at Old Rope tonight. I've actually written some so I'm excited to see if it rocks or fails. I've money on the latter.
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