So it really is getting like a London based Edinburgh now. I woke up a 1.30pm, having gone to bed at 5am. This is not good news for the script that I am meant to be writing. Which I haven't started yet. And which was meant to be in at the end of March. Same old, same old!
My friend Stefan texted me with the news that I was Critic's Pick in the Guardian today, but that I might be disappointed when I checked it. Indeed when I picked up the paper I found that the excitement of being chosen as one of the top five artistic events of the day was slightly tempered by what was written.
It said "Comedy Richard Herring
Stewart Lee riffs on misery, bitterness and inappropriate sexual urges."
Which, you know, is quite funny, given what I was saying just the other day.
It's hard to know if that was a genuine error or a dig or a little joke on the part of the journalist. I think it's most likely that it was meant to say something like "Stewart Lee's erstwhile partner" and a couple of words dropped off. But I suppose it could be a description of my riffs and they are trying to say they are Stewart Lee style riffs. If they were trying to take the piss then "Stewart Lee tribute act" might have been a better starting point.
It made me laugh anyway, ultimately, so no real harm done. And I suppose there was a chance that all those legions of Lee fanatics might have read the pick and thought that "Richard Herring" was a new character that the opera director was working on. So maybe it would help me shift some tickets.
I had thought numbers might dip a little tonight, due to the Easter weekend, but the theatre looked fairly full - though short of yesterday's sell-out. I think it was the best show of the run though. After a couple of slightly tetchy performances, I was a lot more playful and enjoyed myself and there were some characters in the crowd who interrupted and chatted, but not in too disruptive a way. I took the piss out of them effectively and in proportion. And the final section of the show expanded to greater lengths, the old people particularly surprising me with some of the stuff they were coming up with. They are surprisingly eloquent and in all honesty it's getting to a slightly spooky point where I am genuinely only hearing what they are saying as it is coming out of my mouth.
The fact the bar was closing early added to the irritation of the rambling fictional characters, who revelled in their power and started talking about their plan to take over my life so that I became just a bit part character in their lives, where they would give me just a couple of moments a day where I would be myself, to show me what it was like being them. I doubt I will ever remember what I said, but as long as the old people remember then I suppose it can stay in the show.
I expanded on the theme of yesterday's Warming Up, about the end of the show being like a boxing match and despaired at my own inability to bring proceedings to a halt. As I got to the last bit of the last joke I addressed a woman in the front row saying, "I don't think I can do it. I don't think I can go on. It's so close to the end, but I just don't think I can do it." I stumbled around on the point of a mock break-down. It worked very well and the audience seemed to relish the fact that the show might never end. It was quite exciting and it's great to see how things have progressed over just nine performances and how my confidence continues to rise. The playfulness is the key though, plus the ambiguity as to whether the mental break-down that you witness through the course of the evening is genuine or an act. I don't know if I am quite sure.
One more chance to catch the show in London, but it's already close to selling out, so book now to have the chance to see a man's life unravel in front of your eyes. It's surely Stewart Lee's finest 90 minutes. I don't know how he came up with the character.
