I had a wonderful night's sleep last night and slept late. I pottered around the flat for a bit, did someone else's washing, clean the bathroom and kitchen a little and did some washing. I amaze myself at how happy I am to do housework in someone else's house and very reluctant to do my own housework. I think I want people to like me.
I headed out for a curry lunch at the Mosque Kitchen. It's canteen dining, they have it up here too. I will be going there again. They do force you to have more food than you've asked for. The man behind the counter looked at me with disgust when I insisted that I didn't want a samosa.
Next up was the Daniel Kitson gig. It's not the best I've seen him. Even his banter was thin on the ground. He talked about some ideas that he'd had and made notes to himself like "there's definitely something there." He said that he flicks through the Fringe Guide saying, "that's for cunts, that's for cunts, that's for cunts, that cunt is still doing that when it didn't work last year..." It was very funny. There were a few comics in the room who, in my arrogant opinion, are the cunts he's talking about.
Josie Long was wonderful, doing a little play about the Brontes in which she plays every part. It was very funny indeed and I'm looking forward to seeing her.
Maz and I then rushed across town for me to open Mae Martin's gig. She had a full house and my stuff went down well. She had a great gig. Everyone was having a good time and I think that Mae was having more fun than anyone. She had a reviewer in from the Gay Times so let's hope that he enjoyed it as much as we all did. Mae loves me because the first time she saw me, I managed to banter with and calm down a couple of drunks at the beginning of a gig. Well, I am good at that.
We had booked tickets for Bob Downe from ITV in the 90s. It was awful. He is an overtly camp Australian who sings songs in a funny way and wears polyester. There were loads of old people there. It reminded me of Barrymore, the old dears laughing at the crass Larry Grayson type jokes. I think Bob would do well at the Slappers gig in the shopping centre.
Onwards to Gagstro. The dreaded Gastro. We had a front row of bankers who were ready and raring to laugh which encouraged the rest of the room. And everyone had a good gig. I did some material and a little bit of banter. We were competing against European football which was fucking noisy but we got through it successfully and got £40 in the bucket - the most we've done.
Up and down, up and down. I don't know what to think of myself. I know what I need to get rid of once I get home, I certainly know that much. If only I had fifteen minutes of "armbands" jokes, I'd be fixed.
Here is a photo of a cat that was meowing and exposing itself outside my window this morning.