Oh, that horrible, lonely feeling of guilt that punches you in the teeth when you wake up the day after doing not one but two christmas gigs. That continuing mindfuck of "Christ, did I really do that just to get a bunch of disinterested drunks on my side?" thats seemingly impossible to shake all day. What happened to that drive to be creative that I had/pretended to have when I first started? Last night I did a gig in Manchester to a bunch of people who came along to drink heavily, complain about their food and point out to me when they didn't like my jokes. Instead of putting them down and shrugging it off I basically put on ringlets, little tap shoes and sang The Good Ship Waw-wee-pop to amuse and get these fuckwits to like me. As soon as they did, or at least some of them did, I left the stage. Pretty typical christmas do really. Can't blame the audience, even though I definitely will, because they're out with workmates to get pissed and it's not like they hated me. And why would they? I basically wanked them off, gave them a tenner and told them next weeks lottery numbers. They could only love me after I've sold myself wholesale to them. Then it was off to a gig in Blackburn which was better but I was still basically lapdancing for laughs. I went down quite well in Blackburn but mainly because I'd called someone in the front row a twat. They don't call me the Oscar Wilde of the circuit for nothing or ever. Both OK gigs really until I woke up this morning and felt cheap, dirty and ashamed of my performance. You'd think I'd be used to it but, no, I'm constantly surprised at how low I'll go to get a room full of people I hate to like me. Don't know if I ever want to do another gig ever again. How do some comedians do this constantly? I wish my conscience would fuck off so I too could ruthlessly do fuck all but dance, juggle and wink for a living. Yes but are these lazy "comedians" happy? Fuck, yeah. They're thick. Of course,they're happy. It's all this thinking that we do that makes us miserable. They'll never have that problem, the lucky bastards.
My favourite part of the night was travelling to Blackburn and back with Beth who very kindly gave me a lift. I've met Beth one time before and thought she was very funny but this was the first time that I'd really spoken with her at any length. I like her a lot mainly because of her brilliant cynicism. We talked a lot about all the woeful people that you have to encounter in this stupid job and how anyone that doesn't like The Dark Knight should be despised and deported. It was a great chat. To be honest, even though I didn't get the same feeling from Beth herself, I think she might be the woman for me. We have loads in common. We both think comedy is a crap business, we both love Batman and we both really like women. So, all I'm saying is let's keep an eye on how this relationship develops.
I've got Manchester again tonight. It'll be much the same but tonight I promise to try a bit harder. I've had good times at this gig before, I'm sure I will again. By the way, I've been writing this while listening to the new Ween album, At Cat's Cradle, 1992. It's excellent. If you've never heard Ween then go to iTunes and download Push Th' Little Daisies from the album Pure Guava. You'll be a fan. DON'T illegally download it. Oh, and I just watched The Dark Knight about half an hour ago. It has loads more CGI in it than I remember. I'm a bit dissappointed. But don't tell Beth. I think something special might happen there. You should all buy a hat. DON'T illegally download one.