For a man who I imagine has spent the last 24 hours masturbating over images of my flaccid penis, Steve Brown has done remarkably well at getting some work done and by lunchtime I had finished images for RHEFP, the Metro and my upcoming London podcasts (I am bringing the Edinburgh format to the Leicester Square Theatre on Mondays in May and June - first guest Tim Minchin -
Buy tickets here). Funnily enough I looked quite embarrassed in all the nude shots, so if we go for that idea then we will have to use one of the panted ones, but Steve says he should be able to transfer the naked crotch from one of the other shots over the panted shot and then blur out my actual penis. It seems like an awful lot of effort to go to to not have my penis on a poster. I think this was all part of his perverted plan. He likes taking the crotch off one photo and putting it on another one and then eradicating the genitals. It's better he does it only in digital form rather than on real human beings. But I suppose it's only a matter of time. He removed my heart last year and my penis this year, like some very slow and sadistic and pornographic version of Operation. What organ will be go for next year? My guess is my skin, which he will make into some kind of cover for his lights (or maybe he'll drape it over his camera like they used to in the olden days). There is no second guessing this monster.
It was another packed day, trying to sort out all the things I need to do before heading off on the next leg of the tour. We managed to fit in a run as well, running through a wood which had several little tent like structures made out of sticks and branches in it, which is either a charming example of childhood fun or means there is a serial killer living there. I miss the city. There are no serial killers hiding there.
I haven't been doing anything like enough exercise, though have at least not really put on any weight, so it was good to manage a 30 minute excursion, coping well with the hills.
I felt pretty tired driving up to Derby, which was slightly worrying as I had booked a Travelodge in Cumbria and had a longish drive to do after the gig. But I made it in one piece and was very well looked after by the efficient staff, so had time to sit in the dressing room and write my blog before the show. I was missing the Chortle Awards tonight where I had again been nominated for the internet award. I won last year when I couldn't make the actual event, so maybe that was a good sign. If I effect a casual attitude of not giving a fuck (even if forced on to me) then I shall be rewarded.
In the interval I discovered that I had indeed won again, which was a nice little boost. The other awards went to some really excellent comedians and Stewart Lee and it felt good for the second year running to have triumphed over the big star with Fosters money and PR machine behind them (last year Alan Partridge, this year the Fast Show). And Me2 (who was very annoyed not to be at the ceremony and had wanted to pull out of the Derby gig) is claiming that the whole success is down to him and him alone. This might be true. I may not win many awards, but I have won every Chortle internet award that there has ever been (if I win three in a row, surely the trophy becomes permanently mine). I still haven't picked up an award (for myself) though, so can count myself as a loser.
And if there was any danger of me losing sight of reality and letting the award go to my head, then that was quite effectively dampened by another long and complicated drive (there seem to be an awful lot of nocturnal road closures this year, which is very unfair on us night drivers) and ending up in a freezing cold Travelodge room in the middle of nowhere. I doubt there have been many award winners who have spent the night of the awards in a £30.25 Travelodge room - but it seems apt that I did.
Thanks very much if you voted for me in the Chortle Awards. I will do my best to keep getting this stuff out there and coming up with new and ridiculous formats.
Now on to Scotland - there are plenty of tickets left for Edinburgh, Glasgow and Aberdeen. What have I ever done to offend the Scotch? Ah well the Braveheart pic should win them round right?
