With Ian Hawkins, Mat Wills, Chris Douglas and the inimitable Neil McFarlane.
Yesterday I drove all the way to Stoke. The one that is “-on-Trent”, rather than the one that is “Newington”, which would have been much closer and probably not worth writing about. I am normally quite a late riser, 7.30am being an accepatble time, 9.30am often better, but we had to be in the north by 10am, so 5am it was. It’s as if my schedule doesn’t respect my body’s desire to sleep.
Continue reading Doing funny radio. In Stoke. On Trent
The other night I did a gig in a provincial town that will remain nameless and so hopefully blameless.
Three comics in a car, Ian Hawkins, Andy Storey and myself, leaving Clapham Junction to head through the heavy London traffic, trying to keep road rage to a minimum despite the number of numpties on the roads (I’d be arrogant not to include myself in that number, but, being me, I’m quite happy to have a go at all the others). Banter was the usual, where we’ve gigged recently, discussions about comedy and attitudes, the odd bit of circuit juicy gossip (either we are out of the loop or there is currently very little gossip with much succulent, fruity, sugar water to whet our appetites. Or possibly our tastes are now so numbed that we are bored by anything less than a real life “Aristocrats” situation).