I don't quite know how I got away without a hangover today, but unless it's coming tomorrow, then I pretty much did. Not that I was particularly active in the daytime, but at least now rolling around in agony and lethargy after sampling most kinds of alcoholic drink several times and at many different temperatures yesterday.
But with rather a lot to get on with in the next two weeks - like an Edinburgh show and my as yet not really begun Guardian Guide to writing comedy - I think I'd better return to a life of abstinence. And then what about Edinburgh itself? I am tempted to try and live a healthy life style, see shows and do some writing. How likely is that? But it'd be nice to remember something about the Fringe one of these years!
I couldn't lounge around all day, as I had to bomb up to Leicester in the car to do another preview. Ian Stone was on before me, but he came off stage looking a little ashen faced, warning that the audience was a little unresponsive (though it had sounded like he was doing fine from backstage). Sure enough things were a little stodgier than I've been used to, but it was probably just with it being Sunday night and the people who talked to me afterwards seemed to have enjoyed it. It is hard to get used to the fact that some crowds are less effusive than others and it's easy to blame yourself. Ian was a bit concerned it had been him and texted me to see how I had gone down and was relieved to hear I had had a similar experience. Because to learn that I had stormed would have been upsetting for him. I should have pretended.
I was back in the car within minutes and driving home, once again contemplating the odd life of the comedian, five hours travel punctuated by an island in the middle of an hour (well 70 minutes this time) talking to strangers in a dark room. I don't know how I've ended up doing so many of my previews outside of London. I seem to have been driving more than writing for the last week.
I am considering doing the show dressed in a cobbled together version of my school uniform, but wondering how a 41 year old man goes about buying one that fits him, without looking like some kind of pervert. I know there are lots of school disco style parties where grown ups dress as school children to relive their past, but that would still seem to be the past time of people in their 20s and maybe 30s. If a man in his 40s goes to those things, then surely for a sense of not looking like a sad idiot or wee Jimmy Krankie, he must go dressed as a teacher. Though thinking about it that is probably more morally iffy, if he is then going to flirt and dance with women dressed as schoolgirls. Morally iffy, but I bet it happens a lot, doesn't it. People are perverts. Well done on that people!
So what shop can a 41 year old go and buy himself a school uniform and what does that 41 year old man say when he is there - "I am just buying this for my son who happens to be the same size and shape as me exactly"?
"It's for a show I am doing"?
"I am a pervert. Just accept it and let's get this over with as soon as possible"?
I wonder how much of a school uniform shop's business actually goes to adults. And whether they specifically stock over-sized clothes for this small but significant market.
And what kind of audience will I attract when the word gets round that I will be dressed in what to some reprobates is kinky clothing?
Coming from a man who nightly publicly claims to want to have sex with Wee Jimmy Krankie, this is maybe a bit rich. I won't be dressing in shorts though. That would just be leading the perverts on.
Still if you know of a discreet school uniform supplier in London, then let me know. And I will give the police your email address.
