Four Days Until Day One

No wonder I don’t watch normal TV that often, I sat on the remote control and Mmmm Bop threw up out of my television and the two people in glittery pink skating around. One of them is called Ray, I believe is the famous one. On the other side, Jilly Goolden is eating couscous out of a big square bowl and the intonation of the voiceover suggests this will be a reality spunk tissue like Celebrity Wife Swap. Oh good, it turns out I have lots of books in my house, so maybe I’ll give one of them ago. I might avoid that beginner’s guide to Heidegger as, with only four days to touring, it’s best not to get too caught up in being miserable about the blight of the human condition, so that’s my Schopenhauer in cartoons out of the window too (but the Golden Treasury of Peanuts looks very inviting, and that does have a hint of existentialism about it too).
I am putting together my audience walking in music at the moment and then my walking on music. I don’t know if anyone has ever cared about walk in music. Every year I imagine that perhaps someone will buy another Nico album or The Vaselines magnificent compilation, All The Stuff and More (if you don’t know them, you might know them from Nirvana’s cover of Jesus Don’t Want Me For a Sunbeam). I may be a little more populist this year – in fact, I’m listening to The Sun Always Shines on TV at the moment by A-Ha. I reckon some Billy Bragg (Great Leap Forwards), Lithium cover by The Polyphonic Spree, British Sea Power’s Waving Flags, John Finn’s Wife by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, maybe a little eighties REM and something current to stave off the midlife crisis that hits in six weeks. Oh and ten there’s The Tindersticks and Jeffrey Lewis and Robyn Hitchcock…hang on, this is getting tricky, I’ll just have a really long interval to fit them all in.

While doing a phone interview on a busy road (better than doing an interview in the train toilet at midnight for 5 live with Jim Bowen and Cannon and Ball talking about how comedy isn’t like it was in their day), I came up with my concept that I’ll trot out until the local journalists sound bored. I realize that stand up is increasingly my third date compilation tape. Just as men must give a compilation tape in the early days of a relationship to try and brain wash their new love into enjoying their music, my stand up shows are me telling the audience “you must read Carl Sagan, do you know this about bonobo apes? Watch this thing on youtube etc etc.

Last night was another gig for Paul B Edwards, this time in Letchworth. Hattie Hayridge had some tremendous gags which I was quite envious of. My set wasn’t as good as Hitchin, mainly because I was trying to do an entirely different 40 minutes to the night before (one of those stupid exercises that I make myself do to increase possibility of me beating myself up after the gig).

At 2am last night I started writing a reply to a ninny at http://www.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=2208914440&topic=6962&ref=mf
But then kept rewriting it as I realized that I’d probably look like a ninny.
The Intelligent Design is Not a Science page is fun though, but as ID is basically a faith position, you won’t find many of that lobby popping over and debating properly, the big lying cheats.
I'll read Snoopy Classics now.