“Great!” said the man, after I’d agreed to do a gig in London this weekend.
That was a few months ago and oh how quickly “great” can become “I’m terribly sorry but we have somebody better known willing to do it.” The annoying thing was that this was a charity gig and I wouldn’t care but they were getting me for an hour. The person they got in to replace me is doing fifteen minutes then buggering off to do another gig.
Moan over. After all I cannot blame a charity for wanting a known comedian and the guy who has taken over from me (yes that is what I say happened) is frankly one of the funniest comedians in the country and very well known.
On the plus side though, it does save me a long train journey to London on Saturday morning. The gig was in the afternoon so I would have had a long haul back up north after it. At the end of the day I can’t get too upset at having a nice weekend off. Then my stand-up is just a sideline rather than what I do for a living so it is probably only fair that a comedian who works his arse off all year round should get all the free sandwiches.
Anyway, I must apologise for the lack of bloggery recently, I have an excuse for one day but the rest are just laziness. On the day of excuses, I wrote a blog but my computer shut down and I lost it. There! That’s the excuse, how do like that excusarinos.
Moving swiftly on.
Last Saturday we recorded our fifteenth podcast (yes I know it says fourteen but we did an episode 8.5 once) and it was lovely as always. Andy was ill so was sniffling through it but I think I managed to remove the bits in the edit where he was hallucinating. At one point, he thought I was Lorain Kelly and tried to make me give him a soapy tit wank and a few minutes later, he saw Tom as a giant ham and sucked his chin.
Anyway, the poddy is up at the usual place so feel free to tuck in and I can say with hand on heart that it was not produces by child labour, or with the blood of virgins.
After the podcast on Saturday, I headed over to my Dad’s 60th birthday meal. This was enjoyable but slightly concerning. You see, in my head sixty is the age that my grandparents are and my parents are only in their thirties. This is ridiculous of course; because that would make them, the same age as me and my conception would have had to involve crazy Doc Brown and his Delorian.
The only conclusion I can draw from the aging of my parents is that I’m supposed to be a grown-up. However, I don’t have a mortgage or a long-term partner and as I am gay and not fond of being hounded by the CSA, it is unlikely that I will ever pump bloke fluid up a lady-purse and sire a child. Instead I write silly jokes and talk rudy swears on a fortnightly podcast.
Actually now I think about it my life is great. I live alone so can do whatever I like, I have enough money to keep me in Blew Ray discs and large televisions and I have some of the best friends a chap can have. I even have great family although my parents are letting me down somewhat by getting older. Bring on the carbonite!