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Thursday 7th August 2008

The rain kept pouring down, to the apparent amazement of many, although constant rain is surely one of the features of this wonderful Fringe. Perhaps in recent years, maybe because of global warming, things haven't been quite so bad and my advise to you is to move to Scotland (if you don't live here already), because when the rest of the world is flooded, the mountains of Caledonia will be tropical islands. The ginger haired people will rule to world, which will be one in the eye to all those people who thought someone simply being ginger was funny enough to be the punchline to a joke (and yes, I would have to be included in that number, but Londoners would have drowned long ago).
The rain kept the punters away and disappointingly I had the lowest turn out so far this Fringe. I might just have got 100 people in, which is still good by most people's standards, but I am very slightly saddened by the fact that I still can't sell out after all these years, even with such great reviews. I am not too downhearted though. I am getting enough to both do a good show and not have to worry too much about losing tons of money and though they took a little while to get going tonight (sitting in their soggy clothes), they really bought into the emotional journey and it was a satisfying performance.
I have taken to running up the aisle to come on to stage and then sprinting back down it at the end, so be careful if you come not to get out of your seat too early. One of these days there is going to be a nasty collision between me and someone desperate for the loo.
But it's good that I am still so full of energy, over a week into this thing.
I didn't feel so full of beans at the swimming pool earlier, only managing a derisory 6 lengths before retiring to the jacuzzi to relax. I had a slight hangover from my excesses with Collings last night, but sitting in a warm tub of frothy water with a jet shooting up my mousehole certainly helped me forget my troubles.
When I walked home from the gig the rain had stopped and the Edinburgh streets felt fresh and clean. Like God had punished enough for whatever minor crime the city had committed to deserve this 48 hour soaking. Like a really pathetic and non committed version of the flood he sent that Noah escaped from. Any zealots constructing arks in the town would have been disappointed to see God relenting so soon. But then again He'd have to be really serious if He wanted to flood Scotland. No wonder He gave up. "Take that as a warning," He might have said, but the Scotch would have known it was an empty threat and would carry on with their sinful ways. You have to love them.

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