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The final Can I Have My Ball Back? of this tour and presumably ever. Slightly strange to have this extra gig a fortnight after the last one, but nice to be doing it in Bristol and at the Tobacco Factory, a venue that I used to play a lot. It's always a little bit sad to finish a show, but it's mainly a gloriously happy experience, so that little bit of sadness doesn't matter. It was a good solid show to end on, though the people in the front rows were a little more elderly than usual and a nice lady who had advised not to neglect the balls did not return for the second half and thus never got to find out if I survived my operation.
I had walked to the venue from the hotel - a journey of about half an hour. I love this city and it was fun to amble in and take in the sights. I was impressed to see a heavy litter bin had been somehow tossed down to the riverbed - an incredible effort of vandalism. They just love chucking heavy stuff into water here, whether it's a bin or a statue of a slave trader. Both these destructive drenchings feel like art.
As I approached the venue I was charmed to see that someone had created little pavement bollards that looked like pencils. I saw destruction and creation on the same trip, but all of it was art.
Backstage at the venue I was looking through my social media messages when I discovered a folder of unread messages dating back to at least 2016. There were dozens of the things, many now with message unavailable, but some with heartfelt missives from fans and friends, a lot of them from lockdown. I'm very sorry if you messaged me and I didn't respond. I had no idea this folder was here or why I hadn't seen them in my regular inbox.
One of the messages came from my schoolfriend Chris Scard and included a couple of photos from my youth: Chris and I with an attractive young woman who I do not remember (though I don't know how I could forget her - I didn't spend much time with attractive women back then. Maybe it's you, or your mum!) and me and Bri Bancroft and Geoff Quigley larking around in someone's garage or shed, drinking beer with me wearing one of the charity shop jackets that I favoured when I was in my late teens. No wonder I didn't meet many attractive women.
So another show over and a goodbye to Right Bollock (though he may crop up on Twitch of Fun). Next stop is Oh Shit I'm 60! (if I make it that far), which I'll start work on now, but will be debuting in 2027. I had thought I might do another stand up show next year, but I want to make the most of family time for a bit and I also liked the way I put the Ball show together, much more slowly, over a longer time period, so am going to take two years to write a show again, rather than leaving it all to the last two months before the Fringe.
Thanks to everyone who came to the show. I have really enjoyed it, despite fighting lurgy for the last two months. I don't think I've enjoyed a show as consistently as I have this one.
Sadly I never got my ball back, but I have discovered that dropping a bollock can sometimes be a good thing.
