It appears no matter what type of transport I invest in to get me to my gigs, they all have made a special effort these last few days to epicly fail me. Today, I need to get to Brighton. I've made the decision to get the train because trying to park in Brighton on a Saturday afternoon is more of a squeeze than trying to fit a pair of child's speedos onto a large rhino. To be fair, if you are ever caught trying to do such a thing, you will have a lot of explaining to do. Firstly, where on earth did you get those child's speedos from? Secondly, please stop harassing the rhino. All I'm saying is its really not easy. So I presumed getting a train there would be a bag of simplicity. A nice big hessian bag of non-difficulty. Until I found out that the tube I need to get to Victoria to get said train, ie the Victoria line, is closed all weekend. WANKERS! To say this makes me angry would be a mega understatement. Instead of 20 minutes on a tube then an hour train journey to Brighton, I now have to make a 40 minute train journey followed by an hour train journey. Ok the last bit stays the same, but it becomes only more annoying because of the first bit. I'm bloody annoyed. I can't imagine Queen Victoria would be happy with this were she alive. Or any other Victoria's. Except Beckham. She's scared of tubes, incase she falls through the gap. There is also a high chance that when I get to Brighton, the Comedy Club 4 Kids gig I'm meant to be doing, will be cancelled. Pre-ticket sales are very very low, so I could be trekking all the way there only to do nothing and trek all the way back. If this happens I will punch someone that looks happy with their day.
Little else to say today. My gig last night was cancelled, and then I luckily managed to get a gig instead at the lovely Downstairs at the Kings Head in Crouch End where I had a really not lovely gig and ran straight home. It was a Club Senseless night, with awesome music from Ronnie and the Rex bookeneding the evening, with some comedyness from myself and Dan Antopolski in the middle. I say comedyness, but the way the audience stared at me, I may as well have been a bearded lady pulling out my own eyes with inflatable armbands. They did not respond to anything I said, and I felt completely unable to do anything to make it work my way. So I didn't bother. I just hammered it out and ran away like a big beardy chicken. There were a few people to the right side of me, who from the beginning of the show, I had classed as dickheads, due to their unnecessary levels of drinking and shouting out loud. After I finished they followed me upstairs to say how much they liked my set and how crap the rest of the audience were. Part of me wanted to change my mind about them, thinking they must be lovely, but a large part just though 'great, no one except dickheads like my stuff.'
Little else to say. Just some quick responses to recent comments from this blog (collected from Blogger and Facebook):
Miss Blue - I will shroud myself in pictures of Darwinian discoveries and they will choose to ignore me and everything I do. Its the only way to remain safe.
Anahavana - I bet he was just wearing silk trousers. They can do that. And I should know. Ahem.
Sarah (@misswiz) - yes you're right. I probably should. However, I might just do a show about how I'm fairly sure that at night boy scouts sneak into my house and tangle up all the wires. Its the only explanation as to how it happens.
Simon Hart - yes lets. I vote that we start by setting fire to the place on Oct 11th. That'll drive the religious nutters out. Plan?
Simon Phillips - your nan makes it worse. You should get her to stop that.
If you live in Brighton and have children, bring them along to Comedy 4 Kids this afternoon, or don't. One of those options will make me angry. You decide how my day pans out. Don't be mean.
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