Hey Nonny Nonny!

Yesterday started brilliantly. It started with me on a train leaving Hereford. That was brilliant. I sat there drinking tea, eating a toastie and watching Four To Doomsday with the commentary on. I was very happy indeed. It was really sunny and there was no one sitting near me in the carriage. I read a bit more of my Dexter book which, although not as good as the TV series, is getting better and better. When I got off the train at London the tube to Charing Cross had been delayed at the platform but as soon as I got on board it started it's journey. It was as if London Underground itself had thought, "We fucking love Michael Legge and this train is going nowhere until that gorgeous bit of fuck-hunk gets on". It really felt that that's what had happened. That feeling of me being brilliant obviously spread to the staff of SouthEastern Trains because as soon as I got to Charing Cross my train was there waiting for me and it said the greatest words known to mankind on the board, "Fast to Ladywell". They may as well have written "Michael Legge, We all really love you!" on the dotmatrix. A ten minute journey and I was home. Jerk was wagging her tail with so much excitement. That's how good it was for her to see me. Yes, yesterday started pretty well.

Then I did a gig. Always a mistake and really I should know better by now. The Boat Show at the Tattershall Castle is a fantastic gig run by extremely nice and very hard-working people (Christian, Sally, Ali, Paul). The audience there is always relaxed, fun and intelligent and the atmosphere in the room is very positive indeed. I say always but last night they were....what's the word.....CUNTS. Not all of them. Just the 30 or so awful, awful drama students who came to the gig to play "Who's The Loudest?". I hate drama students. I think they're the worst people on this planet. I have infinitely more respect for murderers and estate agents that I do for fucking awful, awful drama students. At least a murderer might kill a drama student and therefore save the world from another cunt and an estate agent might run one over in his car when he's on his way home from work.

I used to go out with two drama students. One of them was and still is nice (Hello, Sally). They both went to the same drama school, Rose Bruford in Sidcup. Sidcup has two buildings of note in it; Rose Bruford Drama School and the headquarters of the National Front. One of these two places really used to upset me on practically a daily basis. I visited Rose Bruford dozens of times and anytime I was there wherever I looked there were piles of cunts rehearsing loudly or massaging each other or fucking singing. Pretentious cunts. And God forbid it was someone's birthday! The amount of times I witnessed some awful cunt project "Everyone! Everyone! This fine morrow brings the birthday of our dear Anton". That's they way they always spoke and they were always called Anton. Then about 50 twats would circle Anton and sing Happy Birthday while harmonising like they were in a gospel choir. Awful, awful cunts.

As soon as I walked on stage, and they started screaming to see who would get the most attention, I hated them. And it showed. I wanted to have the same fun night I'd had the night before and they were in my way and I despised them for it. As a result, I was shit. Just to make it worse, Micky Flanagan walked out on stage and did his set calmly, confidently and with much laughter. He was fantastic but it was soooooo obvious he was being brilliant just to wind me up. Richard Herring obviously thought the same. And when Terry Alderton got an encore and standing ovation I thought "Alright, I get it, we're all having a dig at Michael Legge because we love him so much". I suppose I should be flattered.

The drama students were loud pretty much all night and I just couldn't really deal with them. Just like all those years ago at Rose Bruford. I did ask them what drama school they went to though. Do I really have to tell you which one it was?

The worst thing about being crap last night, apart from actually being there, was that Philip Jeays was in the room. Philip is a truly lovely man who was kind enough to give me my first ever gigs when I started out and I'm sure it must have been a lovely nostalgic walk down memory lane seeing me being just as incompetent as I was back then. You'd really be doing yourself a big favour by checking out some of Philip's music. I'd do that now if I was you.