8190/21110
Up to Birmingham to the Midland Arts Centre today. I felt confident that I had played there before, but couldn't remember when. The blog knows all (well at least some) and I did have at least a three year stint here in the Noughties
Back in 2005 (when I sometimes had audiences as low as 20 - though not in Birmingham) and when you could occasionally get a free hot meal provided by the venue.
In 2006 it looks like I drove myself to Birmingham and back in a day, but sold out! Though was getting audiences as low as 7 elsewhere (or wasn't, because the gig was cancelled).
In 2007 I wasn't very well (I'd sharted on the drive over, so hopefully I was travelling alone) and stayed in a weird hotel that I have no memory of at all (though did say that I valued my testicles in that entry - if only I'd known). Also I remember nothing of any of these four visits and didn't recognise the venue, only the name.
And then just a wait of 17 years and I was back, still unable to shake off the current lurgy (but at least my pants didn't have shit in them), still talking about my balls and again staying in quite weird accommodation in spill-over accommodation at a conference centre, in what looked like student accommodation, with a tiny shower that didn't drain quickly enough and paper thin walls and a good distance walk across a busy road to the bar and restaurant. Bollings had booked it, but I was with my substitute tour manager Grundy (I can barely cope with the fatigue of being driven now, let alone driving myself) and I suspected that Bollings had put us in here as some kind of joke. Even though it was him who couldn't do these gigs, it felt like he was taking revenge.
Today's gig was almost sold out (so not as popular as 2006, though equally never playing to 7 people any more) though strangely the first three rows were almost entirely empty. They were in a little pit in front of the stage and there was one woman sitting front and centre on her own and one guy at the edge of the third row - and then the rest of the seats were sold. I wondered if the woman was the Mayor of Birmingham or was just being shunned by everyone else (which felt a bit too cruel given her bravery in taking that seat), but afterwards it seemed she had enjoyed the attention.
There was a top heckle at the end of the show, where (spoilers) I show a picture that Phoebe drew of her on my shoulders, suggesting that she loved me more now then when she wanted to push me into a volcano. I then suggest that the picture wasn't me, but maybe her new dad and a lady in the audience did a call back to an earlier part of the show where I fantasise about a naked Greg Davies and said the picture looked like him. Which it sort of does. I said I didn't think Catie would be that lucky to end up with him. I guess you had to be there. But I love a good natured, well made heckle from someone who speaks up and then shuts up, revelling in their victory.
There were a lot of one-ballers in tonight, one of whom told me he'd had the operation three weeks ago and had been dragged out by his mates. Are you OK? I asked him. But he wasn't yet. It's all a bit raw at that stage. I think he'd enjoyed the show though. Though surely the freshest monoball who has ever been to the show?
Nice gig, which made me forget I was unwell and then back to the Conference Centre to have an alcohol free beer alongside a scattering of people who were attending an NHS conference and were cool enough to stay up to 10.30pm. Then back to my room where the walls were so thin that I could hear a conference attendee doing a wee in his bathroom. Good strong flow though. Impressive.
