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A flurry of ticket sales this morning meant that today's gig was basically sold out (looks like six of the twelve shows will be full which is great news).
But I was in a shitty mood because I was very insecure about my future at the time and felt I wasn't getting taken seriously as a stand up. But American comedian Paul Provenza had seen me and loved me and said unusually he was going to dedicate a whole night of his interview show to me. It felt like a big deal, though in reality it wasn't. As it happened there had been some kind of mistake (and I think it was on their side) and they'd forgotten about the booking. With this irritation (and the others that that blog mentions) I felt very annoyed and let down. I had too much to drink and then went to do this big gig at the Assembly Rooms where I'd be part of a mixed bill. I was still very insecure about doing stuff like this to an audience that didn't know me and I had to follow Rhys who rightfully had the crowd in the palm of his hand with his brilliant stand up and incredible noise impressions.
I followed him, drunk and a bit pissy and clearly not as good as him (and I think time has borne testament to that) and though I wasn't dying, I wasn't going great. So I decided to use my frustration and anger and bring that into the act, whilst (I thought) parodying myself, by saying I couldn't do stupid noises, but attempting to. Whether I meant it to or not it certainly came across as a criticism of Rhys, which would be insane given how much he'd been loved. Indeed Ed Byrne the host did say on stage it was a bit much me being a prick about Rhys act when he had gone so much better than me.
It was hubris and arrogance. I'd started the night thinking I was a big deal and ended it with a shit in my pocket (a great phrase that the actor Kevin Eldon used to use for such occasions) and humiliated myself.
I think Rhys would have left by the time I was on, but I sought him out the next day to apologise. He took it, as you'd expect from the laid back and cool man he is, well. But I felt I had lost any respect he might have had for me. Which would have been none. I don't think he knew who I was. So I ended up with the negative respect I deserved.
It was a learning experience for me, but I still cringe. I didn't mention it until right at the end of the podcast when it was too late to explain what it was about (I just said the last time I'd seen him I'd had to apologise).
Of course he was about to make it big and could not have cared less about me, but just as I'd failed to befriend the Flight of the Conchords when I'd (vaguely) had the chance, I managed to offend their "manager" too. If I'd known he'd be in a Jumanji film I would have treated him properly.
But it's a great story of showbiz - starting the day thinking that this might be the start of something important (to be fair Paul Provenza did really like me and loved what I did in his Set List show to put me in the TV version) and ending it fucking everything up.
Today was a much happier experience. We had fun talking about ghosts and me failing to kill the Loch Ness Monster (as well as a possible reveal as to what Nessie might be) and alien visitations. Rhys remains down to earth (though with his head on a slightly different astral plain) and success could not have come to a nicer bloke.
It could have come to a more idiotic bloke if it had happened to me. But there's probably something in this blog explaining why it didn't.
Post gig I took the kids off to 10 pin bowling again and there were some squabbles and tears - Ernie getting obsessed over only using the purple balls, and crying if anyone touched them and having a couple of meltdowns about other stuff and a couple of hits to and from his sister. It was hard work.
We walked home, with both kids now as happy as larry and me trudging ever more tired. I picked up some healthy food for dinner because I am feeling very unfit and full of crap and then somehow staggered back to the flat.
Once we climbed the stairs to the lodgings I tried to open the door but the big bottom lock was not shifting. Eventually I realised that my key had broken. I was ready to lie down on the stairs and die. I texted Catie who I'd forgotten was going to see the show after hers today. I told her that I did not have the energy to come to her to pick up her key and she selflessly agreed to come back home and let us in (if the key hadn't broken in the lock). I had visions of us locked out of the flat all night and sleeping on the cold grey stairs, but I think they key had broken in my pocket somehow and Catie's worked.
Thank God we're only doing 12 days this year. I don't have more than three more days in me.
