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People don't seem to be taking the Me1 Vs Me2 Kickstarter campaign seriously, as if it's some kind of joke. Believe me when I say there is nothing funny about Me1 Vs Me2 snooker. Remember that you don't pay out any money until the target of a million pounds is reached and you can withdraw your bid at any time. So, you know, you might be safe to make a donation and look like an eccentric millionaire. But there's lots of ways to satirise the value of money. Giving £1 is as hilarious as giving £5000. Kudos to David Cockrell (I am not just picking out the guys with cock in their name, they just seem attracted to me for some reason) who increased his donation of £1.01 to £1.02. It could make all the difference and as Me vs Me snooker is all about wasting everyone's time, then this is the perfect example of someone entering into the spirit of things.
I kinda like the people who give a small amount, because in a sense to treat it sensibly and like you might get your badge or mug shows more faith than a pretend £5000 bid. Though I think some of the big bidders are genuine. Who wouldn't want to have Me3 come to their job and give motivational talk to their confused work mates?
I have to say that I a disappointed in most of you. You have a chance to help me make Me vs Me snooker look stupidly popular at basically no personal risk. So far my wife seems vindicated in her beliefs that I am wasting my time with this podcast and attempt to turn self-playing snooker into a national sport. Even being one tenth of the way to being a quarter of the way to the goal doesn't impress her. So please, donate £5000 today and look forward to the call from the Fraud Squad that is the cherry on the cake of this particular work of art.
I know there's a part of you that thinks I am going to actually do it. There's a part of me that thinks that too. The magic of Me vs Me snooker will make this happen. So far the internet seems to have the antidote to the self-playing snooker virus, but it is adaptable and still has four weeks to mutate. If only a US news channel can get wind of it they will be all over this Great British eccentric, playing a game they've never heard of against himself in a basement.
It's weird to think that we might be entering the last few months in this house. I passed the Pesticles statue on Hammersmith roundabout today and remembered how that had appeared shortly after I'd moved to Shepherd's Bush (it is the reason for part of the title of my second collection of blog entries “The Box Lady and Other Pesticlesâ€. It seemed both like a long time ago and only a few months ago as most things seem to these days. Nothing is certain and we haven't yet sold the house or found somewhere to live, but things are progressing it seems and whilst we might still be here this time next year, we might be in a new place by the Spring. I've lived in this house for almost the entire time period of this blog, and looking at the combined genitals of one of the men and remembering how it looks like a poo from a certain angle made me laugh again, but feel a little sad too. His genitals haven't sagged in the last twelve years and have remained as solid as ever. Exactly the same as mine obviously too. I don't know why I said that.
I thought of that piano that had been dumped by someone on my front path and which greeted me on my return from Australia and of paying the bin men to take it away after he hinted that was all that it would take. I offered him £20, but he was an honourable rogue and would only accept a fiver.
The move here was full of uncertainty and discombobulation and in much less happy circumstances than our next move will be. Then I had failed to form a family unit and the house was a gaping reminder of that and this time we're moving to a place that will truly belong to us all and be ours from the start. But I suspect the first few months will still be a bumpy ride, just as they were for the 35 year old me who paid off those bin men. Now I am used to the Bush with its strange piano dumping (and occasional other dumping) ways (to be fair both dumps have only happened once each in 12 years) and its shitting pesticle statues. It's been an interesting dozen years of my life (if you've read all that I've written you might beg to differ) and I am not sure anything quite turned out how I had expected. But I arrived alone and will leave in a team of three. So that's something.
And the house hasn't broken me, as I feared it might at some points. But I have managed to keep up my mortgage payments and not left with bailiffs smashing in the door and the house has given me security in lots of different ways. As that young version of me (who hardly seems like me at all) worked insanely hard throughout 2000 and 2001 he had a hope that the money he was earning would help his as yet unformed and unborn family, and I am glad that at least that wish came true. Back then I could churn out a script a week and now I struggle to write one a year, but how lucky that I had no interest in drugs or fast cars and had nothing to spend my money on except a bit of a house.
Of course now I wish he'd had the foresight to invest everything in Me1 vs Me2 Snooker and we'd be set up for life.
I wonder what became of the Box Lady
Tonight at the Albert Hall I gigged with Adam Hess and David Trent, both of whom I heartily recommend. David in particular made me laugh so much that I was nearly not able to go up afterwards and close the show. Check them both out if you get the chance. Both taking chances and doing acts that are not typical comedy club fare. But still they made it work in a difficult room in front of not too many people.
