I lost my mobile phone. You'd think I'd be really upset by that but I'm not. I'm very happy indeed. I hate that fucking phone, it's awful. I know Orange will just replace it with the exact same model but at least I don't have to use it at all for a few days. It's a Samsung Soul and if Orange ever offer you one claiming it's their equivalent to the iPhone, please just turn them down. It's kind of like the iPhone in as much as it exists on this planet but that's as far as it goes. So I'm in Bristol for the next few days without anyone contacting me and that's just fine. Maybe I'll finally do some work on a script now instead of phoning Johnny Candon to see if it's really legal to ogle the new girl from Sarah Jane's Childless Adventures.
I took the train up to Bristol yesterday and was sat next to an entire family of arseholes. The mum was the worst. She was a hippy Earth mother type, like the mum in About A Boy, who kept shouting at one of her daughters because they wanted some dried banana chips. Apparently she's not allowed any until she's finished reading her book. Surely you can do both at the same time, you fucking annoying hippy cunt were words I never said but continually thought. The other daughter just stared out the window with the saddest look on her face. She just seemed lost. It was like she was thinking "just a few more years and I can leave these wankers". I hope she does. They're awful. The angry daughter kept shouting back at her mum because of the whole banana chip injustice. Mum then said that she really doesn't know why the little girl is always so angry all the time. Well, I don't know the little girl at all but I'd guess she's quite upset because some cunt called her Willow. That's just a hunch. I said Mum was the worst but actually Dad was. He sat there the entire time, not speaking, just photographing his sad, staring daughter. That's a nice creepy.
The audience at last night's gig at Jesters were very good indeed. Sadly, I was a bit flat. Not awful, just not very lively. Gary Delaney then went on and blew the roof off. He was utterly fantastic. He has jokes. Real jokes. And lots of them. In fact, I think he has the best joke on the circuit. Unfortunately, he never tells it on stage. If you want to hear it, you have to be with him in a car driving past a particular building in London. It's quite a bit of organising to hear a comedian tell one joke but it is very much worth it. After the gig I went to a bar called Mr. Wolf. It's a great bar that has live music and groovy people. It's the kind of cool bar you'd think London would have loads of but actually has none of. Stupid London. I drank too much Jagermeister and, hey presto, I have no phone. I bet today's the day Peter Kay calls me to give me my big break.