Xmas Factor.

So, how has your last 48 hours been? Pretty exciting, I would imagine, eh? You’ve probably been organising parties, getting off with models or shouting at Johnny Ball. Not me. I’ve been busy feeling sorry for myself.

What a crap couple of days it’s been. I have no idea why I’m in this crappy mood. Well, I have some idea. I’ve got another cold (my 5th this year, I think), it Christmas and I’ve spent too much time on my own recently. None of that has helped put me in a good mood. Plus I keep thinking about next year a lot. What am I going to do next year? I’ve done brilliantly at the art of time wasting but I think I’ve gone as far as I can with that. I may actually have to do some work. I know I should do my own Edinburgh show next year but I’m scared.

On a lighter note, I had an argument with a toilet attendant yesterday. Oh, yeah. Is there anyone who I won’t open my big mouth to? Cripples, children, toilet attendants. None are safe from my dubiously moral finger pointing. But, to be fair, he started it.

I turned up at Sway, a venue in Covent Garden, to perform at yet another Christmas gig. I’ve really enjoyed my recent shows at Sway but, as it’s a Christmas gig, I thought it best to go to the toilet before I went on. Just like the superstitious actor will kiss the colour blue three times and then break someone’s leg before performing in Hamlet so the stand-up comedian, at Christmas time, must have a great big shit.

I went into the toilet and straight into the cubicle. There were three men in there already (not the cubicle) and one of them was the toilet attendant. He was cheerily squirting soap and passing out paper towels in the hope of a time. He was also singing. As it’s the festive season he merrily sang the classic “It’s Christmas Time, It’s Lovely Time”.

No, I’ve never heard of it either but those are the complete lyrics and the song never ever ever fucking ever ends.

“It’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time” he sang while I sat in the cubicle wondering why on Earth he was doing this. This isn’t a Coke advert. If you sing openly in public people will just think you’re a fucking nutter who should be locked up, castrated and shot. They won’t think you’re cool. “It’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time” he sang over and over and over again, a never ending pointless loop of insanity until my own faeces refused to enter this world until he shuts up.

I heard him squirting soap, singing and coins hitting his tip plate while I sat there thinking will he ever shut up. He wouldn’t. Do you know why? Because it’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time apparently.
This was getting me nowhere. I thought to myself that I’ll wash my hands without assistance and leave no tip. I’ve done it before, I think. The song had broken my mind so I was no longer sure. Sadly, for me, the toilet attendant was very keen. I got out of the cubicle and as soon as I touched the tap he was right beside me squirting soap and singing “It’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time”. That’s OK. As long as I dry my hands myself I can still get out of here without tipping. Shit. I was too slow. There he was, quick as a flash, with a paper towel and singing “It’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time”. I thanked him and headed for the door. As soon as I opened it he stopped singing. “No tip?”

“Not today, mate”, I said red-faced but smiling.

“That’s bad, man”, he replied.

Was it? Was it really so bad? Well, he’s right really. It is bad to not leave a tip and not explain why. So I explained.

“It’s the singing, mate. It’s too much”, I said.

“But it’s Christmas time”.

“It’s lovely time. Yeah, I know. It’s just you were singing the same line over and over. It got a bit annoying. Just don’t think singing in the toilet is a good idea, you know?”

He looked very serious all of a sudden. Then he turned his back and said “I’m singing because it’s Christmas.

NOT IN A TOILET, IT ISN’T, MATE. Fucking hell, if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a billion times: Toilets aren’t seasonal. They don’t celebrate anything. No-one goes to the toilet to celebrate their birthday, Easter, Hanukkah, Bank Holiday Monday or St. Swithin’s Day and they certainly don’t celebrate Christmas there either. I understand why someone might go to the toilet on the anniversary of a tragedy. They’re very quiet places, toilets. You can think there. But NOT if some cunt is continually singing “It’s Christmas time, it’s lovely time”.

Anyway, I went on stage and pretty much died. I didn’t feel too bad about it though. I already felt bad. Like I said, I’m fed up at the moment. The previous night I did a gig in Edinburgh and wound myself up about it so much before I went on that I felt ill. I just KNEW I was going to die. It’s Christmas, there are work parties here and I am going to die on my arse. I wound myself up so much that when I went on and had a great time, I couldn’t even enjoy it. Stupid Legge. So last night I didn’t even think about the gig and I died. Let that be a lesson to ye.

I’ll cheer up soon. I’ve got some new Los Quattros Cvnts dates coming up (details soon) and I’m taking January as the month that I at least try to write an Edinburgh show. Whether I go to Edinburgh or not we’ll find out later but I need to just write a bunch of new stuff anyway so I might as well aim for an Edinburgh show while I’m at it, eh? Right? Hmmmm…

By the way, while I’m in a fucking cunt of a mood and before I return to my normal cheeky but cheery self why not try out these two blogs? They’re excellent. The first is by Chris Limb: http://www.catmachine.eu/ and the other by Liam Mullone: http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=236414726759

Note: This is the second time that I have written this blog. Bloody Facebook. When will I learn?

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