Sans Tin Hat

Day three of Tiernan's slow descent into hallucination via lack of food or rest. Today is a barnstorm of different things that I somehow need to slightly adjust my brain before each one. This sort of talk sounds like I've gone properly bonkers, but I do feel like I need to have a different mind set to work on say kids comedy, than for adult comedy. Or to work on sketches or write a script. I'm not capable of just flitting between them all. This is probably because I'm a tool. And not a useful too like a drill. One that sits in B&Q that no one really knows what it does and they occasionally sell just one to someone who's curiosity evades them, the try and fix a cupboard it, break the cupboard and it sits in a box under the stairs for ever more. Or it could also be because they do in fact need different mindsets. I'm getting better at doing several different comedy things in one day, but I fear that one day I will just implode into a 12 personalities freak who stands there shouting things about bogies to adults while swearing at kids and constantly being in character as a man in a wolf suit. What's extremely worrying about today is that I'm doing kids stuff first, then adult stuff, and then I'm off to my annual Derren Brown excursion in Brighton where no doubt he'll wipe my mind and I'll be back at square one again anyway.

I haven't got time to prepare for seeing the Derren this eve. No foil hat making can happen, so I will be at full mind violation risk probability. With my frail state of tiredness and mental disarray its highly likely that this could be the worst mistake in the world. Tomorrow's blog could be all about me drinking a pint of vinegar then walking on glass because he said so. Or worse, it'll just be blank as I fail to remember anything at all, let alone how to type. Yes, I'm scared. A bit. Saying that, if my mind is wiped I'll probably have to spend several days in bed while other people help me eat stuff? Hmm. I mean tweet him now with a subtle proposition. For brain wiping that is. Not marriage. I'm not sure how anyone could ever marry Derren Brown. Though I suppose if he decided he wanted to marry you, you'd have little choice. I bet he has a harem of mind washed man wives just wandering around his mansion, all of whom are unable to see each other, while Derren sits in his chair shaped like a crystal ball, only with a bit cut out otherwise he'd just slide off.

See? I'm clearly still bonkers. Just. Need. To. Get. To. Sunday....


Last note: Yesterday's Fat Tuesday was actually on a Fat Tuesday which was all very exciting. It was made more exciting by the excellent sets from Jay Foreman, Danielle Ward, Foil, Arms & Hog and Greg Davies. Go see all of them all the time. Hurry up.